Talia and Jake.
Husband and wife.
My brain catches on her last name.
Talia Petrov.
“Huh, that’s funny,” I say, frowning.
She looks at me blankly.
“What is?”
“Your last name,” I say slowly. “It’s the same as my coach’s. The meanest, most old-school Russian to ever walk this earth.”
She looks more flustered now.
“What do you mean… coach?”
“I’m an athlete,” I explain.
Her face drains of color. “What kind of athlete?” she asks quietly.
I frown. That seems obvious.
“I play ice hockey. I’m with the Metro Raptors.”
She just stares at me. “What did you say your name was?” she asks.
Something cold slides down my spine. “Why?”
“What’s your full name, Hercules?” she presses, her voice tight now. “It’s not that hard of a question.”
“Jake,” I answer slowly. “Jake Morrison.”
Her hand flies to her mouth. “No,” she whispers.
My stomach drops.
“You know who I am?” I say.
She nods faintly.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, fuck.
My mind races. “And you’re Talia Petrov?”
She just nods.
“And you’re related to Coach Petrov?”
It’s the only explanation that makes sense.
She nods again.
