“We can take our time. I’ll have it billed through the company.”
“You’ll be alright no matter what. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re a smart girl, a real go-getter, and Waverly isn’t that tower of yours, but the fourth floor. I didn’t let them touch it for a reason. It’s yours if you need it.” Then he pops a kiss on the top of my head. “Hasn’t changed much since we turned it into a little apartment so your mom could live there when she went to college at NYU.”
Eyes burning now, I tell him. “If I get ousted, it’ll be the first place I go.”
Walking past my suite toward Vales, I have to force myself to move forward. I don’t want them to be bad, them meaning Matteo and James. All the years I’ve trusted them without question?
Matteo, who has been at my father’s side since my memories began to stick. Who caught on to what I was doing and didn’t pull me aside to tell me to sit down; instead, he gave me the courage and confidence to keep moving forward. Hell, when I was little, he brought me juice boxes and told me the truthwhen adults tried to soften it. Matteo, who never once asked for anything in return.
James, who has driven me everywhere since I came back, as I was trying to figure out how to tell Dad I didn’t want to be his intern; I wanted to be a reporter. He knows my silences. He adjusts the music when my shoulders tense. He learned my coffee order before I ever spoke it out loud. He has waited outside hospitals, offices, and funerals, and never once made it feel like a burden.
People don’t just become leaks.
They don’t suddenly decide to betray you after years of loyalty. That’s not how genuine relationships work. That’s how paranoia works. That’s how power poisons perspective.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Paul slows as we approach a door, and something catches his eye. I look back and see Aleks jogging toward us.
I can’t help but smile. “What are you doing?”
“Just wanted to tell you good luck.” He nods to my bag. “Phones off. Didn’t want to let the girls know you were here early, I assume.”
“Shit,” Paul mutters, “Do I have one of those trackers on me?”
Aleks clamps his shoulder, “Doesn’t matter. What matters now is you’re here, and both of you deserve some answers.”
God he’s so sweet.
He looks at me, “Good luck, and remember our plans don’t change based on the information you get. But if you need to head back to The Broadview, I’m taking you there.”
“AK,” I clear the emotions from my throat. “We’re good. But if I get shit because you’re breaking some hockey ritual or rule, you won’t be.” I step to him, push up on my toes, and kiss him on the cheek. “Win this game.”
He doesn’t move; he just looks at me, a smirk pulling in the corner of my mouth, because I just broke a rule. “That’s the plan.”
“You need directions, Kilovac. The ice is that way.” Paul jokes.
“Throw me a sign?”
I simply nod, mesmerized by how blue his eyes are, and then when he turns around and leaves, just how perfect that hockey ass is.
“You done checking him out?” Paul asks. I shake my head no, and he tugs on my sleeve, “Let’s see if he’s got any answers.”
Chapter 18
Detroit
Aleks
“You don’t cometo Brooklyn without understanding the subtext,” Faulker snickers asNew York State of Mindrolls low through the speakers.
“Our DJ’s badass.” Sterling chuckles.
The announcer drags outDetroit Redemption,the name echoing just long enough to invite boos. Not wild ones, very measured. Brooklyn’s not wasting energy tonight, they’re saving it for us.
Coach D stands in front of the whiteboard, marker loose in her hand, eyes moving across us like she’s weighing strengths and weak points, who’s here and who’s lying to themselves. They stall on me briefly, and I give her a slight nod.
“Detroit,” she says. “They play disciplined, structured. They wait for mistakes instead of forcing them. They think patience makes them smarter than you.”
