“I—” the smug fuck, who definitely looks vaguely familiar, though I can’t place from wear, begins to protest.
“I noticed you transitioned to an offensive-focused defense for tonight’s game,” one of the men asks over the protesting child. “Is that a plan you intend to stick with?”
“When we have players like Riggs Ashford protecting our blue line, it would be stupid to not utilize his skills. And what he brings to our defense as a whole…”
Thankfully, my answer draws everyone back on track and by the time I call it and head for my office, I haven’t been asked any other absurd questions. Of course, I don’t make it free and clear. I’m stopped by some of my other coaches in the halls—Ivy checks in with me about a strength session later in the week, my head video coach lets me know my tape is ready, and Kaitlyn tells me that the practice plan for our ice in two days’ time is in our shared drive.
Everything’s working as it should.
Which means that I get through my post-game tasks with ease and it’s not terribly late when I head to the parking lot and get in my car.
The night is clear, the stars overhead sparkling, and there’s that cool kiss of fall sinking into winter hanging in the air.
We’ll have snow soon and then Christmas will be around the corner and that’s my favorite part of the year.
I can’t wait.
Which is why I’m smiling when I pull into my driveway.
Unfortunately, that smile fades.
Because the moment I reach for the button to open the garage door, I realize?—
I’m not alone.
FOUR
Damon
I knowthat I’ve fucked up the moment panic tears through Joey’s face.
“Fucking dumbass,” I mutter, quickly stepping out of the shadows.
Mere hours before, I told her that Hiller was escorted out of the arena.
And Hiller knows where she lives.
And I’m standing in the darkness of her fucking porch, waiting for her to come home.
Dumb as shit.
I stop at the top of the few steps, standing in the bright spot of light, making sure she sees it’s me.
And I know the moment that processes because her face goes carefully blank and then she reaches up to the visor again.
The garage door rumbles open, and she pulls in.
Then it rumbles shut behind her.
I turn around and wait by the front door as lights turn oninside, as the faint sounds of her moving around on the other side of the wood reach my ears.
Then I wait some more.
I wait so fucking long I consider that she may not actually open the door to me.
Not that I blame her.
Still, I don’t leave, just lean back against the pillar, keep my eyes on the door, know that the camera doorbell has likely picked up my movement. If she looks at the feed, she’ll see I’m in for the long haul.
