Page 68 of Arresting the Hockey Player

She rolls her lips together and nods, a somber expression on her face. “You have every right to hate me.”

“Damn straight.”

“If you need me to write a letter to the judge or take the stand and tell him that I had you falsely arrested—how it was a misunderstanding—”

“I don’t need your help,” I seethe. Does she honestly think I’d trust her to help me after the mess that she made? She’s the reason my son isn’t living under my roof.

“I truly am sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help the mess that I’ve created, ask.”

She’s right about that, it is a mess, and it’s entirely her doing. Now that Jasmine is home with Grant, they both want full custody.

The only saving grace is the letter Jasmine had written with her lawyer about giving me full custody, which I had picked up the following day as soon as the law firm opened, before Jasmine had time to request the letter be destroyed.

It’s now in evidence for our upcoming custody hearing. My little ray of hope that the judge will grant me full custody, given her written request, which she had notarized.

In the meantime, DCFS is investigating Zayn’s current living situation with Grant and Jasmine. They are scheduled to also report on their findings at the custody hearing.

She takes my silence as an answer. “Again, I’m sorry. You can lie on the bed. I can keep my hands to myself,” Charlotte says.

It’s a bad idea. I should let her sleep it off while I crash in the guest room. But leaving her by herself also seems like a bad idea.

I’m torn.

What if she passes out and vomits in her sleep? She could choke to death.

SEVENTEEN

Charlotte

I roll over and rub the sleep from my eyes, my vision coming into focus in the unfamiliar bedroom.

I’m not home.

The night comes flooding back to me with flashes of Noah walking me back to his place. I glance at the warmth beside me and the sleeping figure.

Noah Reece.

He’s out cold.

It’s still early, the sun just peaked, and I’m quietly trying to escape his bedroom before he wakes up.

Do we need to talk?

Yes, but I don’t feel quite up to it this morning. Besides, all the apologizing in the world isn’t going to fix this mess. Do I grovel? Beg for his forgiveness?

Noah is stubborn, and it isn’t like I made a tiny mistake.

I had him arrested.

My stomach knots just remembering him being taken away in handcuffs.

I tiptoe out of his bedroom and down the hallway, finding my purse and phone connected to a charger on the kitchen counter. I unplug my phone and shove it in my purse before high-tailing it out of his place.

Either he’s a heavy sleeper, or he pretended to stay asleep so I could escape.

* * *

“You still haven’t spoken with him?” Amber asks, watching me try on the umpteenth gown for the charity event.