Page 25 of Holding Penalty

“Uh, Mr. Miller?” he says.

I roll my eyes at him. “You can call me Nash.”

“Oh. Uh. Right, then. Mr. Nash—I mean Nash …” the kid’s tripping over his words while he addresses me. I’ve seen him talk more composedly with plenty of the other players on the team. Do I really come across as such an asshole that an arena employee I see regularly is scared to talk to me? “I thought you’d want to see this …”

It’s now that I realize he’s holding something that looks like a magazine in his hands. Actually, it looks more like one of those trashy tabloids they stock next to the checkout counters at grocery stores.

He holds it out to me, and I take it. I look at the front page. My stomach plummets.

Alligators Star Seen Leaving Seedy Austin Motel With Mystery Woman.

The headline is splashed above a photograph that I know was taken Saturday morning. I know exactly where it was taken, too. Because I’m in it, and so is Piper.

It’s a shot of us just as we’re stepping out of the hotel room we spent the night in together.

My fists tighten so hard at the edges of the tabloid that my fingers burst through the cheap paper, digging into my palms on the other side.

The picture has a clear view of me. Luckily, Piper’s turned to the side. It would be difficult to recognize her. But someone who knows her well—especially someone who recognizes the dress she was wearing that night—wouldn’t have any trouble doing so.

This could cause her a lot of embarrassment. And it would be my fault, because I’m the one who drew the attention.

I have to do something about this.

My eyes lift from the paper and find TJ’s. The kid is practically quivering, like he’s in a shoot-the-messenger situation. I’m not that scary, am I?

“Where’d you get this?” I ask. The question comes out rougher than I intend, because TJ flinches.

“I saw it at the convenience store where I stopped for coffee on the way here. Sorry, sir, but I thought you’d want to know and⁠—”

“Calm down, TJ,” I say, trying to get my anger at the pieces of shit responsible for this publication under control, trying to take the bite out of my voice. “None of this is your fault. I appreciate you letting me know.”

After I see TJ’s relaxed a bit, I let the darkness back into my tone. “This fucking paper’s gotta be all over the city by now.”

Adriano looks over my shoulder. “Oh, the Austin Observer? They’re not too big, actually. Probably just a couple dozen stores carry that one.”

Adriano knows a thing or two about trashy tabloids. He’s one of their favorite pieces of subject matter. Granted, the headlines and photographs he provides them tend to be a lot juicier.

“But the internet,” I say.

“The company that owns the Observer is super behind the times, and only really wants to sell physical copies of their paper instead of going viral online,” Adriano says. He’s like a professor giving a lecture on a topic he’s a worldwide expert in. His Greek accent lends him a note of intellectual distinction at this moment, too. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Of course, someone could buy a paper, take a picture of it, and upload that themselves.”

“Not too many stores carry this paper, you said?” It’s Vaughn who asks that question, which surprises me. He’s usually only too eager to stay out of anyone else’s business but his own.

“Yeah,” Adriano answers.

“We’ll buy up every copy then,” Vaughn says. “If we each split up and take our own cars, covering a different area of the city, it should be doable.”

I look at Vaughn with surprise. He’s the last guy I’d expect to volunteer his day to go on a wild goose chase.

“Guys, I can’t ask you to do that,” I say.

Vaughn just shrugs. “You don’t have to ask. We’re a team. We come through for each other when one of us needs it.”

My lips open in surprise at an attitude I never would have expected from our closed-off, perpetually grumpy goalie.

“What the hell, Vaughn?” Hayden says. “Where was that attitude when I needed you for our double date?”

The ice-cold side-eye Vaughn slides to the rookie is more like what I’m used to from him.