I should have argued. Should have told him this was my problem to handle, that he didn't need to meet my family under these circumstances. But the truth was, I didn't want to do this alone.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
The flightto Calgary took just under four hours, and I spent most of it on the phone with June, who was already coordinating damage control. She'd sent her legal team to Mom's house with cease-and-desist orders, but the media wasn't technically doing anything illegal by standing on the public sidewalk.
“I'm flying out there myself,” June said. “Should land around the same time as you. We'll handle this, Grant. Your mom won't have to deal with them alone.”
“Thank you.”
“Just keep a low profile at the airport. Don't give them any more ammunition.”
We landed in Calgary and rented a car, then drove the hour north to the small town where I'd grown up.
“This is where you're from?” Jace asked, looking out at the flat landscape, the distant mountains.
“Yeah. Born and raised.” I took the exit toward town. “Small. Quiet. Everyone knows everyone.”
“Must be weird, having media descend on it.”
“It's a nightmare.” I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “My mom didn't ask for this. She just wanted to live her life, and now she's getting dragged into our mess.”
“It's not a mess.”
“Isn't it?” I glanced at him. “We're a scandal, Jace. And my mom gets to deal with the fallout.”
“Then we tell a different story.” His voice was firm.
I didn't answer, just focused on driving.
Mom's housewas exactly as I remembered—small, tidy, the garden she'd maintained for thirty years still thriving despite the early winter cold. But now there were three news vans parked across the street, cameras set up, reporters milling around with that predatory patience that made my skin crawl.
I parked in the driveway and killed the engine. “Stay close to me. Don't answer any questions.”
“Got it.”
The second we stepped out of the car, they swarmed.
“Coach Sutherland! Can you comment on your relationship with Jace Hartley?”
“Is it true you've been involved since the beginning of the season?”
“How does the Wolves organization feel about this?”
I kept my head down, one hand on Jace's back, guiding him toward the front door. The reporters pressed closer, microphones shoved in our faces, cameras clicking.
“Coach, did you pursue Jace, or did he pursue you?”
“Is this why you were really fired from your last job?”
That one hit like a fist to the gut, but I didn't react. Just kept walking. The door opened before we reached it, and Cal was there, physically blocking the reporters from following us inside.
“Back up,” he said, voice hard. “This is private property. You're trespassing.”
“We're on the sidewalk?—”
“You're harassing my family. Get the fuck back.”
I pulled Jace inside and Cal followed, slamming the door behind us. The sudden quiet was jarring after the chaos outside.
