Page 18 of Heartless As Puck

I ventured into the kitchen first. There was a plate of Jane’s homemade protein cookies—the only type of cookie I was willing to eat—on the counter.

I snagged one and bit into it, savoring the peanutty taste, then I went to the fridge and opened it out of habit. A covered plate of food took up most of the middle shelf, and I grimaced as yet another dose of guilt flickered through me. Caught up in everything that had happened, I hadn’t thought to let Jane know I’d be eating out.

At least she’d obviously been back. The cookie was warm enough that it must have been baked within the last couple of hours. I backtracked to the garage, and sure enough, the Range Rover was parked inside.

Perhaps she’d cooled down enough for us to talk.

I headed to the entrance to her studio, putting most of my weight on my good foot as I climbed the stairs, though the pain had mostly faded by now, and knocked. I waited, but there was no response. A frown knitted my eyebrows together. She might have already gone to bed, but it wasn’t that late yet.

I paused, listening carefully. Beyond the door, I could hear the muffled bumps and rustles of someone moving around. She was definitely awake.

My heart sank. Perhaps her anger toward me hadn’t eased but grown.

I backed away from the door. If she didn’t want to see me, I wasn’t going to force my presence on her. It was bad enough that she probably felt she couldn’t escape me because she depended on me for a place to live.

Fuck, I had screwed up massively.

I considered going to bed. The day had been a nightmare. But instead, I went to my living room, sat on the sofa, and watched more game tape. I tried to pay attention, but my focus was split. Thoughts of Jane, and of Gus’s suggestion, kept swirling through my mind. They wouldn’t give me any peace.

Was Gus right that I needed to appear more settled to ensure my future captaincy? I really hoped so, because otherwise, I might have blown up my working relationship with the best assistant I’d ever had for no reason.

I shouldn’t have just asked her right then and there. I hadn’t liked the idea at first, and I should have stuck with that rather than talking myself around because of so-called logic and a desire for the captaincy—and because I’d been confused and hurt upon learning the truth about Jane.

I couldn’t help but feel that I didn’t know my loyal assistant at all.

Closing my eyes, I rested my head against the back of the sofa. How could I have been so caught off guard? We’d practically lived in each other’s pocket for months. Surely, at least one member of her family must have visited during that time.

But when I racked my mind, I came up blank. I had a vague memory of her bringing around a friend her age whose ears practically tinkled from the earrings weighing them down, but I couldn’t think of any other person that Jane had introduced me to.

What did she do when I wasn’t home? Did she have hobbies? Did she visit family or friends in the area? I could imagine her crafting, but I’d never seen anything that led me to believe she actually did so.

She was so self-contained. Her belongings never left her studio, unless she was taking them somewhere or using them. My gut twisted. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so concerned about protecting my space that I made her feel uncomfortable venturing beyond her studio.

God, why did this have me in knots? It was literally her job to know everything going on in my life. The same wasn’t true in reverse.

But that didn’t prevent the guilt. I should still have made an effort.

Opening my eyes, I straightened and palmed my phone. I navigated to a search engine and typed her father’s name into it. I scrolled through dozens of photographs of Pete Wright on the ice or being interviewed and checked out an article in a sports magazine about Pete Wright’s hockey protégé son.

When I dug even deeper, I unearthed a handful of photographs of Mrs. Wright with Alec and Jane at Pete’s games. Jane had been a cute kid. Small, with lanky limbs and long brown hair. In one of the images, she clung to her mother’s leg and peeked at the photographer.

That little girl looked right into my soul.

Guilt swept through me again. I felt like I was intruding on her privacy by snooping like this, but then these photos were out there in the public domain for everyone to see. Some of my friends and acquaintances might have already seen them before. Just because I hadn’t didn’t mean they were secret.

Suddenly, I was desperate to know exactly who’d been aware of Jane’s alter ego—the hockey princess.

Any questions would have to wait, though. I couldn’t exactly call around my teammates this late at night and demand to know if they’d paid better attention to my assistant than I had.

I checked the time. An hour had passed. I should try to apologize to Jane again.

I went to her studio and knocked, but when she didn’t respond, I retreated to my bedroom and closed the door. I wasn’t in any kind of mental state to be sleeping, and there was only one person I trusted myself to be vulnerable with: Hazel.

I flopped onto the bed and found her number but hesitated before calling. It was possible she was asleep, but considering she preferred to study late and wake late, I was willing to bet she was probably still up. I selected her number and waited for the call to connect.

“Hey, big brother,” Hazel said, her cheerful tone reassuring me that I hadn’t interrupted her sleep.

“Hey, Haze.”