“Okay,” she said slowly. “And after we fuck them, what will we say to the question of their star defenseman’s fitness and your role in it?”
“My role?” This time when I stopped, it wasn’t out of anger. “You’re not saying they’re pinning this on me?”
That’s exactly what she was saying. It was written all over her face.
Bile burned the back of my throat. Because Theo was right. This was my responsibility, my job to keep our secret a secret.
“Answer me.”
Holly nodded. “They want to know why you sent in those reports declaring him fit to play when he clearly, well, wasn’t. You’ve put them in an uncomfortable position, which I’m sure you know. The Surge is gunning for the Cup this year.”
That goddamn cup. It had people in a blind frenzy, willing to risk their literal lives just to wave it over their heads.
An idea sparked in the back of my head. One that required me to keep using my shovel instead of handing it in.
“My reports were accurate.” I dug the hole deeper. Coming clean meant both Theo and I lost what we wanted most. Doubling down meant we both still had a chance of getting it. “His injury happened in Dallas.”
The surprise on Holly’s face was expected. “Game four?”
“Game four.” I held her gaze, determined not to show any sign of awkwardness or nerves. I’d been lying about this for so long, it wasn’t even that hard to do. “And the reason management didn’t know is because I haven’t done my reports for this leg of the round. We only landed a few hours ago.”
“So you’re saying Theo’s been fit to play this whole time?”
“Up to now, yes.” I approached her desk, leaning in to grip the edges. A closer look to make sure she believed me. So far, so good. “If you watch it back, you’ll see the hit he took in the second period. That’s all this is. He’ll be fine to play in three days.”
There was that word again. Fine…
He wasn’t fine. We weren’t fine. Nothing about this catastrophic shit show was fine.
But I plastered a smile on my face and let Holly make her little notes to take back to management, and as soon as I was cleared to go, I left.
I dropped my bags in the middle of my apartment and kicked off my shoes, letting them skid across the floor. My shoulders felt raw, knotted with plane turbulence, game intensity, and that fucking press conference. A shower was the only thing I had on my mind. That, and a stiff drink after.
Steam billowed out the second I twisted the faucet, the pipes coughing to life like they were just as overworked as I was. I peeled off my clothes without ceremony, letting each piece fall where it fell—onto the tiles, over the African violet blooming in the corner, across the damn sink.
The heat hit me in a rush, a blistering curtain straight into the knots at the base of my neck. I braced my hands on the wall in front of me and let the spray pour over me until the worst parts of the day dissolved enough for me to breathe again. The water stung too hot but I didn’t dare adjust the temp. If anything, I welcomed the burn. Needed something honest after everything else.
I dropped my head and it sluiced down my back, mapped every ridge of tension like it was reading me more clearly than Holly or management ever could. My shoulders throbbed with the ghost of the stress I’d been wearing since we landed, since the presser and Theo bolting out of that room like it was on fire.
A pulsing ache bloomed behind my sternum, unwelcome and persistent—
Nope. Not doing that.
I dragged a hand over my face as I came up for air, pushing soaked hair out of my eyes, and stood there until the tile stopped spinning and my heartbeat found something resembling normal. The water kept pounding down in scalding relief, and I kept taking it.
For a second, I thought I imagined the knock. But then it came again, and I cursed under my breath. I hadn’t even worked the conditioner through my hair yet. I shut off the water, and yanked a towel from the hook, wrapping it tightly across my chest. Steam followed me out of the bathroom in thick waves as I padded down the hallway, still dripping onto the floorboards I kept telling myself I’d refinish someday.
Another knock. Impatient now.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, checking the cinch on the towel. My hair clung to my shoulders, water trailing down my spine in thin, traitorous lines.
I wrenched open the door, and caught my heart right before it lurched out of my throat.
Theo. Standing in my doorway. My gut pitched at the sight of him, and the glaring awareness of my semi-nudity. Skin still pink from the shower, hair wet and curling against my neck, in nothing but a towel. His gaze didn’t so much as flinch. It swept me head to toe, greedy and shameless, lingering long enough to make my pulse stutter. Heat climbed up my neck, infuriating and uninvited.
I slammed my brain back online. “What do you want?”
The question seemed to shock him out of whatever stupor he was in, because he took a breath and pushed past me.
