I also know how much he loves Beatrice and how much he hates lies and bullshit and bullies. And the fact that he’s beensuspendedbecause of Kai, a man he’s loathed for years? The moment that bombshell broke, courtesy of a popular indie hockey reporter, I knew Nix’s anger management skills were about to be tested in ways they’ve never been tested before.
I don’t blame him for keeping the news to himself—I’m sure he didn’t want to add to Bea’s guilt or stress, and it was news best conveyed in person—but still…
I wish he’d let me be there for him.
I could have at the very least offered a safe place to vent before he faced the press. After being suspended, accused of a felony, and chased out of Canada like a criminal, he’s likely hanging on by a thread. The news vans circling my house like sharks might be the final straw.
He might snap, and if he snaps…
I move to the window, peering through the crack at the edge of the curtains again, just as a black town car turns the corner at the end of the block. The hive buzzes louder, cameramen flurrying into place as the reporters sense fresh meat.
I grip the curtain fabric so tight my knuckles start to ache.
Just keep it cool until you get inside,I think, hoping Nix will feel the good energy headed his way through the swarm.Hold tight until I close the door behind you, and then you can unleash every bit of your very righteous fury. Just a few more minutes, Bay. Just a few more…
The sedan parks as close to my driveway as it can get with all the news vans in the way, and Baylor steps out.
He’s wearing a dark hoodie over maroon workout shorts and a baseball cap pulled low. He keeps his gaze fixed on the ground as he fetches his gear bag and travel duffle from the trunk and starts for the driveway.
My chest tightens with a mixture of worry and relief.
He looks massive. Gorgeous. And exhausted.
The reporters surge around the sedan, likely scaring the poor driver half to death as they shout?—
“Baylor! Is Beatrice inside?”
“Did you force her to cancel the tour?”
“Do you have a comment on the kidnapping allegations?”
Shoulders inching higher, I brace myself for whatever comes next. Telling them to “fuck off” would be completely understandable. Unwise, but understandable.
But if he pushes a reporter or tosses a camera…
He sets his gear bag down on the grass at the base of the porch, sending my shoulders the rest of the way to my ears. But when he pushes his hat brim higher, revealing his face, he doesn’t look like a man on the verge of stroking out.
He looks weary, disappointed, like a tired father dealing with unruly toddlers.
He raises one hand, palm out, and the swarm silences, waiting with bated breath and poised mics as he says, “Good morning. I know you all have a job to do. I understand that.” His voice is deep, steady, sending a wave of relief through my tight muscles as he continues, “But what’s happening here isn’t news. It’s a fabrication designed to hurt my family that we’ll be clearing up through the appropriate legal channels. That’s all I can say at this time.”
“What about the claim that?—”
“That’s all I can say at this time,” Nix repeats, collecting his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Then he smiles, a cool, boundary-setting smile that makes me so proud I can hardly stand it. “In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you’d respect my girlfriend’s azaleas. If you step on them or cross the property line again, I’ll have no choice but to call the authorities.” He winks before adding, “Or turn on the sprinklers. And I think we all know water and cameras don’t mix.”
A few of the press cluster actually chuckle.
Then, they step back! They retreat like scavengers shooed away by an apex predator, and Nix didn’t have to raise his voice a decibel.
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been trapped in my chest for hours and head for the front door, flipping the lock with shaking hands.
The moment I step out onto the porch, cameras flash, but I don’t look their way. My eyes are all for this man,myman. When Nix sees me, the “calm and collected” mask slips for a second, revealing the mortal man in crisis beneath, but my arms are already twining around his neck.
I hide the crack in his façade with a kiss.
A real kiss…
A deep, focused, promise of a kiss. It tells Nix that I’ve got his back, but it’s also my statement to the press, my flag planted in the ground.
