“You want my professional advice?” David asked, sitting forward.
I stopped swaying. “Actually, that'd be great.”
There was something almost funny about it. I’d spent years being the person other people called when faced with a professional crisis, and now here I was, needing someone to tell me what to do.
“You’re the expert after all.”
He smirked and waved me off. “Oh, stop.”
And then we got to work.
Three hours later, I shut down my computer, gathered up my belongings, and left the office.
Stepping into the Marauders’ lounge, I approached Lavoie’s wife, Gabi, who was standing toward the back of the room, her son asleep in her arms.
“What a game, huh?”
“Unfortunately, I just got off work, so I only caught the last two minutes.”
“Oh no. That means you missed Taylor’s bank pass in the second period to set up Cally’s buzzer-beating goal.”
Her son stirred, making a small fussing sound. Gabi bounced to keep him settled as the doors to the locker room swung open and the first wave of players streamed in.
Taylor was the last to appear, his face tipped forward as he stared down at his phone, his fingers moving quickly over the screen.
My phone chimed, and his head shot up. He searched the room, and his eyes landed on me. He shoved his phone into his pocket and, in five long strides, was in front of me.
He started to reach for me, but stopped short, his arm dropping limply to his side.
After Thanksgiving, I had no doubt that if it’d just been his teammates and their families in this room, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but there were a handful of men I recognized as team executives, surrounded by several people Ididn’trecognize, and a photographer with a lanyard around her neck.
“Congratulations.”
He beamed up at me. “Such a great fucking game.”
“That’s what Gabi said.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his brows furrowed and his head tilted slightly to the side. “You were here.”
I shuffled my feet. “Can we get out of here? We need to talk.”
“You okay?” he asked under his breath, confusion giving way to concern.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The second I opened my mouth, everything was going to come tumbling out, and we absolutely could not have this conversation here.
He stared at me for a beat, then gestured for me to go ahead of him. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
CHAPTER 33
SEBSATIAN
Taylor’s eyesflicked to me briefly, then back to the road. “Are you ready to talk about it yet?”
I’d practiced what I wanted to say multiple times on my walk from the office to the arena, but no matter how many times I said the words, they still felt unbelievable. I’d kept my sexuality a secret because it was more important to protect Wyatt’s, and today he’d blown that all up.
I couldn’t help but feel like he’d made a mockery of my sacrifice.
My head fell back against the headrest. “Wyatt called a press conference to announce he’s running for President.”
