“Not much, seeing as how he’s my client. Sorry, kiddo. You’re going to have to dig into his story on your own. He’ll tell you what he wants you to know.”
His comment makes me think he knows at least as much as I do about Aidan’s past—most likely more.
Wait, does he know that Aidan’s stepdad married Mom? No, I assure myself,he obviously doesn’t, or he’d have said something.
I haven’t told him anything about the wedding, aside from the fact that it was happening, nor do I intend to. And I especially don’t intend to tell him that I’ve slept with one of his star hockey players—the one with the bad attitude who the rest of the league loves to hate.
Dad and I have always been close, and I don’t like lying to him, but we’re both better off if he doesn’t know the truth... and so is Aidan. I’d hate to see what Dad would do to Aidan’s career if he found out. This is a contract year for him, and if Dad knew what happened between us, he’d make sure Aidan was playinghockey in Sweden by the end of the season. And that’s if he were feeling generous.
His phone rings, as shrill and loud as it always is, because he refuses to miss a call... ever. He glances down at it, then stands and says, “It’s Liam Walker. This might take a while.”
Dad doesn’t represent many athletes outside of hockey, and I don’t know exactly how it happened, but landing the football star as a client years ago—right as he was developing into a well-respected quarterback—was a major coup.
But tragedy struck the Walker family earlier this year, and Liam decided to take the season off to stay home with his son. It’s a decision that hasn’t sat well with some Boston football fans who were used to annual division titles and regular appearances at the championship game. But personally, I can’t imagine being in his shoes, and I’m sure he made the choice that was right for him and his family.
“Okay, I’m heading home soon anyway,” I tell Dad, as I close my laptop.
Dad bends to give me a kiss on the top of my head then turns, answering the call as he walks inside. The screen door slams behind him, and I bend my knees up to my chest before wrapping my arms around my legs. I sit, curled up like this, watching the pool sparkle as the wind kisses the top of the water, and listening to the birds chirp as they flit between the thick row of hydrangeas that line three sides of the pool.
But the peaceful setting doesn’t prevent my mind from immediately turning back to the surly hockey player I exchanged heated words with today.
I’ve known him for less than a week, and already I can’t stop thinking about the different versions of Aidan Renaud that I’ve already seen—a fun and flirty stranger the first night I met him, then my broody and hot stepbrother following the wedding, and now, a hockey player with a chip on his shoulder.
All of it leads me to wonder:Who is Aidan Renaud? And how am I ever going to survive him?
Chapter Nineteen
AIDAN
“It’s good to see you,” my agent, Carson Kaplan, says as he reaches across his desk to shake my hand before taking a seat and gesturing that I should do the same on the opposite side of his desk.
I sit, quietly studying him as he folds his hands on his desk in front of him. His short auburn beard ripples as he says, “How is everything going with the Rebels?”
“Hard to say,” I tell him, “since we haven’t practiced yet.”
“But you’ve seen your teammates, right?” There’s concern in his voice, like he’s worried about how I’ll settle back in with the team.
“Yeah, I had a meeting with AJ, and McCabe, Colt, and Walsh were all there. I’m going out with a bunch of them tonight,” I say, thinking about how confusing it was when I was added to a group chat calledRebels Fam, and it took me about twenty texts to figure out who the three unknown numbers were. Turns out it was Drew Jenkins, Zach Reid, and Luke Hartmann—all of whom I’ll be meeting for the first time tonight.
“Good. I suspect you know that the key to successfully transitioning back onto the team this season is highly dependent on reestablishing ties after going dark for the past year. That’swhat AJ is going to be looking at—as much as your game—when she decides whether or not to renew your contract. You do still want to stay in Boston, right? That hasn’t changed since we last talked?”
“I definitely want to stay.” The thought of starting over again feels a lot more daunting in my mid-thirties than it did in my twenties. I’m settled here. Boston is my hometown, and getting to play here until I retire is the dream.
“All right. It’ll be well into the season before she’s ready to talk about contracts, so I think the key here is for you to put your head down and focus on being the best player and teammate you can be.”
Obviously.“She wants me to take the alternate captain position now that Ledderman is retiring.”
Carson’s bushy auburn eyebrows lift in a way that reminds me of Morgan when she looks surprised. Their faces are very different, but she has some of her dad’s coloring and expressions.
Sometimes it feels like the universe is trying to fuck me, and this is one of those times.
Of all the people staying in Bermuda that weekend, I had to sleep with the one who was about to be my stepsister, works for my team, and is my agent’s daughter? The first two things are minor hiccups compared to the last. Carson is not a man to be fucked with, and if there’s one thing I know without needing evidence, it’s that he’s overprotective of his daughter.
“Are you going to accept?”
“I don’t know. I’m a bit confused about her rationale. She said my name had been brought up for the position before. But it seems kind of weird to start the conversation by telling me that the team has changed a lot over the last year, and end it by offering me a leadership position when I’m coming back to a team with different dynamics than when I left.”
“Why do you think she’s offering it?”
