I startle from where I’ve been mindlessly stirring my second coffee in the staff kitchen for God knows how long. I’ve been here since six a.m. preparing for Brookes Devereaux’s arrival. It’s barely nine, and I already feel like I’ve worked a full day.
Turning, I spot Millie walking in, grinning mischievously as she clutches a Magnolia Bakery box to her chest like she’s smuggling cocaine across the border.
“I got cupcakes!” she whisper-yells, devious eyes flitting about, checking we’re alone because honestly, who wants to share when it comes to Magnolia Bakery baked goods?
“Have I told you I love you?” I grin at the box.
“Are you talking to me or the cupcakes?” Millie quirks a brow.
“You, of course,” I answer, despite still staring only at the box.
In such a short amount of time, Millie has quickly become one of my closest friends; it’s hard making real friends in a city like New York, especially when most of the people I meet are through hockey. Hockey is such a transient sport; I’ll meet aplayer’s partner at a game, we’ll hit it off, but then the next week that player is traded to a team on the other side of the country and, unfortunately for me, he usually takes his WAG with him before I even get a chance to organize a coffee date. Millie is not only the sister of one my father’s players, goalie one, Dallas Shaw, but she’s also the girlfriend of another of my father’s players, left winger, Logan Cullen.
Millie and I first met when she thought I was sleeping with Logan. She showed up earlier than expected when she came out to New York to visit him, and she found me at Logan’s apartment, disheveled and wearing one of his old hockey jerseys. She instantly hated me, understandably. But when she learned the truth—that I was only at Logan’s apartment because that was the morning after I had found out Chris and his wife were not only pregnant, but that they were never actually separated, the morning after I discovered that I was unknowingly the other woman and that Logan had simply saved me when I was at my worst—Millie and I realized we actually have a lot in common, and we’ve been best friends since. I even helped Millie get her job here with me at SNN when her internship didn’t work out and it was either find a new job or be forced to move back to Texas, and damned if I was going to lose another potential friend.
I grab another mug from the shelf above the state-of-the-art coffee machine and press the button for Millie’s drink of choice, turning to see her lift the top off the box, the sugary goodness of the cupcakes floating through the air making my stomach growl because I haven’t had breakfast yet.
“Where’d you get to on Saturday night?” Millie asks, taking a huge bite out of one of the confetti cakes. “One minute I was lining up our shots, the next you were gone and I had to down them both.” She scoffs, her mouth full. “I was so hungover yesterday. In fact, I think I still am…”
Shit. I’ve been dreading this. If anyone has the ability to see straight through me, it’s Millie. I swear we’re twin flames.
Avoiding her eyes, I pick up one of the cakes, dragging my nail though the pale purple frosting and collecting a dollop before sucking it into my mouth. “I was so tired…” I say. “The bathroom line was ridiculous, so I went to the one in the bar downstairs, and then I just left. I was so tired.” Shit. Did I just say I was tired twice?Smooth, idiot.
“Did something happen?”
I look up, noticing the curious glint in Millie’s green gaze. And I know what she’s asking. She’s asking if my leaving early had anything to do with Chris. Millie knows what happened between me and Chris, but she just doesn’t know that it was Chris. She’s pretty certain it’s someone from the Thunder, but I feel like she thinks it’s one of the players. I don’t want to risk telling her. It’s not that I don’t trust her not to keep it a secret, but the fewer people who know, the less likely it is that poor Chris’s wife will find out. For now, it’s only me, Logan, and now Happy who know the whole truth. And that’s already way too many people considering Happy has the biggest mouth in the Tri-State area.
“No. Nothing happened,” I lie, smiling sweetly. “Just tired.”Oh my God, Hannah. I continue quickly, “Plus, I had a brunch date with my dad yesterday morning, and interacting with Lance Draper while hungover is not something I recommend.”
Millie giggles but then gasps so suddenly she almost chokes on her own intake of air. “Oh my God, is Brookes Devereaux here yet?”
I quirk a brow at the woman who told our boss, Patrick, during her interview that shehatedsports. “How do you even know who Brookes Devereaux is?”
“Hello! It’s Brookes Devereaux. He’s, like, the Tiger Woods of our generation.” She rolls her eyes indulgently.
I narrow mine, still sufficiently confused.
“Okay, fine,” she huffs. “Instagram. He’s, like,reallyhot.”
I snort.
“Have youseenthose thirst trap reels of him bending over tocollect his little ball from the hole thingy while wearing those infamous khakis?” She presses her lips together to stifle a smile, her freckled cheeks flushing like a schoolgirl. “‘Baby Got Back’ indeed.”
“Is Logan aware of your Brookes Devereaux infatuation?”
“Yeah…” Millie looks up in thought a moment before a sheepish smile curls her lips. “He figured it out when he got home from their road trip a few weeks ago to find me watching some golf tournament live from Australia at, like, two a.m.”
“Oh my God, Millie.” I laugh under my breath.
She shrugs, stuffing an entire cupcake into her mouth and offering me a wink.
My phone vibrates, and I look down to seeMotherilluminated on the screen. I heave a sigh. Of fucking course. And while I consider ignoring her again, I know my dad is right, and I need to talk to her. I’m a grown ass woman, and I need to start standing up for myself when it comes to my own mother.
“Sorry, I just have to take this,” I say to Millie, holding my phone up.
I walk into one of the private booths that line the far length of the open floor office, hesitating before sliding to answer the call. “Hi… Mom.”
“Oh, I thought I was going to have to introduce myself; it’s been so long since we’ve talked,” Mom sasses. She tries to play it off as a joke, but I can hear the bite in her words.
