Page 47 of Broken As Puck

“Okay,” I said finally. “We’ll keep it professional. I’ll do my job and you do yours.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

I got the feeling she wanted to look me in the eyes, but I couldn’t handle that right now. I needed to go somewhere private and get my shit together before training. My nerves were raw and everything seemed like too much. The fluorescent lights were too bright, the coffee smelled too strong, the chair beneath me was too hard.

“I have to go.” I forced myself to raise my eyes and smile at her. “You’re doing a really good job as the team’s publicist. They were right to hire you.”

Her eyes widened slightly and she nodded. “Um, by the way.” Her voice cracked and she swallowed and tried again. “We decided to go with your idea about the Rainbow Sports Alliance.”

“That’s great, Chels. Thanks for letting me know.”

I strode out of the room, closed the door in case she needed a moment to herself, and jogged down the stairs, almost missing a step as my mind whirled. I tripped and caught myself on the railing just as Jesse walked past the bottom.

He stopped and looked up at me. “Too distracted thinking about a pretty blonde to look where you’re going?”

“Mind your own business,” I snapped before I could think better of it. Immediately, I felt a pang of guilt. Jesse hadn’t realized that he was poking at a sore spot and that I didn’t have the heart to deal with his teasing just then.

Drew materialized beside Jesse like a thundercloud on skates. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” I demanded, my voice climbing despite the fact I’d been ready to apologize a few seconds earlier. But that had been to Jesse. He didn’t deserve my crap attitude and wouldn’t give it back the same way Drew would. Drew might even take pleasure in going head-to-head with me.

Maybe if I played my cards right, he’d even take a swing at me. That would go a hell of a long way toward distracting me from my self-pity party.

I squared up against Drew and opened my mouth. But then I thought of Chelsey and of the probationary order hanging over our heads, and I clamped it shut again.

Fuck my life.

Chapter Sixteen

CHELSEY

I smirked as I took a photo of Brian Taylor entering the Minnesota Center and sent it to Layla.

Layla: Rawr.

I laughed. It was fun to tease her about him even though I knew she had absolutely no intention of pursuing him. Obviously. He was happily married.

Layla had, finally, gone on a date with Sam. Very uncharacteristically, she hadn’t brought him back to the apartment and had refused to spill all the details. I didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad sign, but given the way she had been giggling to herself recently, I was inclined to think it had gone well.

My phone vibrated and I checked it out. I had a notification from the dating app that Layla had installed, but I didn’t open it. I’d messaged a couple of people, but my heart hadn’t been in it, so I’d refused any offers to meet up.

I hated to admit it, but being around Matt was messing with my emotions. Every time I saw him, I was either overwhelmed by an unpleasant cocktail of emotions—primarily inadequacy and rejection—or I remembered just how good we’d been together and how unlikely it was that anyone else would fit me as well as he did.

Either way, it wasn’t good for my dating prospects.

I sighed. I needed a distraction. Looking around, I took a few photographs of the audience. Most of them were decked out in green and gold—Minnesota colors—but there were several clusters of blue and silver amid the sea of green.

Personally, I’d been tempted not to wear the Chaos’s colors because it would remind me too much of how I’d supported Matt in the past, but as the team’s publicist, I knew the importance of showing a united front, so I’d sucked it up. I’d gone for Harris’s name and number since he was the team captain.

Eventually, play started, and it moved quickly. Both teams were in good form, but the Chaos were on the back foot from the instant the puck dropped. Minnesota was just too skilled. If they’d been in poorer form, there was a possibility the Chaos might have beaten them, but as it was, they didn’t have a chance.

That said, I thought they could be proud of themselves after the final whistle blew, as they lined up to shake the opposition’s hands. They’d kept their cool under pressure, which might not sound like a lot, but compared to the way the team used to crumble when things got difficult, they’d come a long way.

I’d gotten some excellent photographs too—particularly one of Davenport doing the splits to block a goal. His expression was pure concentration, and the easy athleticism of the moment was mind-boggling.

I waited for the crowd to disperse and made my way to hover outside the changing rooms. Max and Patrick had already disappeared inside with a camera, but Kim was leaning against a wall and I joined her, using my phone to compose a post for social media.

“You weren’t tempted to use the documentary as an excuse to try to get into the changing rooms?” Kim asked, not looking up from her phone.