Page 12

CHAPTER 12

ANNA

T he arena feels strange when it’s quiet, like a sleeping giant. Sunlight streams through the high windows, casting pale streaks across the ice. I lean against the boards, staring at the smooth, untouched surface. The team’s been on the road for a few days, and without them, the building feels empty, like a ghost of itself.

My phone vibrates in my hand and I feel the corners of my lips turning upward. Another text from Ollie; they’ve been almost nonstop since yesterday’s game.

We’re close. Should be there in about ten minutes.

I’m here, printing out a photo of Jimmy so we can tape it to a dart board this week.

I like it. Now I need to get a dart board.

His quick comebacks, and lightning fingers with the texting, are some serious skills.

Seeing that you were solely responsible for the last two goals to win the game, I bet you can afford to treat yourself.

What a game it was. Thankfully, the team in Chicago streams their games, so I was able to catch the last part of it and it was amazing. Wait, I stand corrected: Ollie was amazing. I’m not sure what happened between the last two periods to drop him on the ice on a mission, but it worked.

While I’ve got his attention and he’s stuck on a bus, I pull up some images I’d been meaning to send to him and flick them his way. The mayor’s ball is next week and we need to coordinate our outfits for the night, if nothing else just to make my tiny teenage heart happy.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but before I can reach for it, a voice behind me makes me turn.

“Someone’s glowing,” Sutton says as she walks up, her heels clicking against the concrete.

I turn to look at her, trying not to smile. “I’m not glowing.”

“You’re absolutely glowing,” she counters, crossing her arms. “If it’s because of Ollie, remember what I said—be careful. These things have a way of getting complicated.”

“Complicated is both the perfect description and most overused word these days.” I roll my eyes, brushing her off teasingly. “It’s fine, Sutton. I’ve got it under control.”

Before she can respond, a familiar voice interrupts.

“Careful about what?”

I glance over my shoulder to see my dad standing a few feet away. He’s dressed casually, but his posture is stiff, and the pale color on his face reminds me he’s still recovering.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, waving it off. “Sutton is being overly cautious about a work thing.”

Sutton raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. Instead, she gives me a quick wave and disappears down the corridor toward her office.

Dad watches her go, then turns back to me with a look that says he’s not buying it.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says, walking closer.

I lean against the boards, crossing my arms. “I’m not lying.”

He settles onto a bench nearby, his gaze steady. “Alright. Then why are you smiling at your phone every two minutes?”

My phone buzzes in my pocket as if on cue. I pull it out, seeing Ollie’s name flash on the screen.

You really think I’d pull off coordinated outfits? I’m more of a T-shirt-and-jeans kind of guy.

I bite back a grin, typing a quick response:

You’d look amazing in anything, but fine. No matching velvet. What about sleek suits, like Brad and Angelina at Cannes?

Dad sighs, catching my attention. “So it’s Ollie.”

I slip my phone back into my pocket and meet his gaze. “What about it?”

He shrugs, leaning back. “Nothing for you to be defensive about. I didn’t realize you two were more than good friends.”

“We’re…” I shift uncomfortably. “It’s hard to explain.”

He nods slowly, but his brow furrows in a way that always makes me want to hug the man. “Good enough to explain why the bank has barely called this week and why my hospital bill is paid?”

The knot in my stomach tightens. While I know why the bank has stopped calling, I didn’t know about the hospital bill. I’d assumed his insurance would cover things. “Hospital bill?”

“I’ve got coverage through work, but it doesn’t cover everything. I called the hospital to find out what to do and they told me someone called and took care of it.”

I’m speechless. “I have no idea why you don’t have a bill, but I can find out if you’d like?”

“If you can, I’d appreciate it. Nothing worse than having a surprise bill appear six months down the road.”

“I’ll handle it,” I say firmly. “And you are hereby instructed to not worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying,” he says, though his face says otherwise. “But I don’t want you overextending yourself.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, holding his gaze.

He watches me for a long moment, and I can tell he doesn’t entirely believe me. But finally, he nods. “Alright. Don’t forget you can talk to me if you need to.”

“Of course,” I say, though my mind is already racing. I’m sure more bills will be coming soon, plus we have more in arrears that need to be handled, but the second half of my payment won’t be here for a few more weeks. And if there is a hospital bill, too, I could be put in a position where I’ll need to sell a kidney and one of my limbs to get us more money. But I’ll figure it out—I always do.

My phone buzzes again, and I glance down.

Fine, but if you suggest matching cowboy hats, I’m out.

I laugh softly, the sound breaking the tension.

Dad tilts his head, his expression softening. “You’ve been smiling a lot lately,” he says, his voice quieter now.

I shrug, tucking my phone away. “Have I?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I haven’t seen you like this in a long time.”

I turn back to the ice, watching the sunlight streak across its surface. “Feels kind of nice,” I admit.

“Good,” he says with a small smile. “You deserve that.”

For a moment, the stillness of the arena feels comforting instead of strange. The noise, the chaos, the stress—it will all come rushing back soon enough. But right now, I let myself enjoy the quiet.

The buzz of my phone pulls me out of the moment. Molly’s name flashes on the screen.

“Hey, Molly,” I say, walking toward the hallway for some privacy.

“Anna,” she says, sounding frazzled. “The kids have a half-day today, and I completely forgot. Can you grab them from school? I’m stuck at work.”

I glance at my dad, who’s now scrolling on his phone, oblivious to the conversation. “Sure, no problem. I’ll head there in a bit.”

“Oh, and can you stop by the pharmacy, too? Ellie’s prescription is ready, and I won’t have time to get it before they close.”

“Got it,” I say, scribbling a quick note on my phone.

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver.”

I hang up, shaking my head with a small smile. Molly’s life is a whirlwind, and as her assistant, I’ve become her emergency contact for everything. While I love what I do, talking to Sutton about what I want for my future has me thinking even more lately about what I want in five years, or ten. Do I want to be grabbing prescriptions or operating off someone else’s to-do lists? Let’s face it, the way things are going, if I stick around too long, I could end up taking Lucas to prom. That would be awkward.

As I slip my phone back into my pocket, movement catches my eye. A man walks into the arena, his stride purposeful. He’s wearing a rumpled suit, his tie slightly askew, and he’s heading straight for my dad.

“Who is that?” I mutter to myself, watching as the man stops in front of Dad. They exchange a few words, and then the conversation escalates. The man’s voice rises, sharp and accusatory.

I hesitate, my stomach tightening.

Dad stands, his posture defensive. “You don’t have any right to come here,” he snaps, his voice louder than I’ve heard it in weeks.

My heart sinks. I stride toward them, stealthily in my sneakers, which serves my purpose. I don’t want the stranger to hear me walk up. As I get closer, I catch the tail end of the man’s reply.

“I have every right when you’re dodging calls and ignoring notices,” he says, his tone smug.

“Excuse me,” I cut in, stepping between them. My voice is sharp enough to slice through their argument. “What’s going on here?”

The man looks at me, his expression shifting from irritation to thinly veiled condescension. “And you are?”

“His daughter,” I say firmly, glaring up at him. “And you are?”

“Here to settle a matter of overdue payments,” he says, pulling a clipboard from under his arm. “Your father owes?—”

“I know exactly what this is,” I interrupt. “But you’re trespassing and I’m pretty sure what you’re doing is illegal. This is private property, and you’re not allowed to harass people like this.”

“Harass?” the man echoes, feigning innocence. “I’m simply?—”

“Save it,” I snap. “If you have something to discuss, you do it through the proper channels. Showing up unannounced and cornering him here at his place of work is not one of them. I know his rights, and ours, under the law and can have the full weight of the team’s lawyers raining down on you if you aren’t careful. Now, leave before I call security.”

The man’s smirk falters, but he doesn’t move right away. Instead, he shifts his weight, as if deciding whether I’m bluffing. My heart pounds, but I stand firm, determined not to let him see even a flicker of doubt.

Before I can say anything else, a voice cuts through the tense silence.

“Is there a problem here?”

I whirl around to find Ollie standing just a few feet away, his broad shoulders filling the space as if he was made to command it. His jet-black hair is slightly mussed from the cold, his jaw tight with barely contained irritation, and he’s rocking a huge shiner on his right eye, which he hadn’t told me about. He’s wearing a fitted leather jacket over a Renegades hoodie, and he looks every bit like the guy you don’t want to mess with. He. Is. Beautiful.

I could tap dance with absolute glee. I couldn’t have planned this if I tried. Perfect.

The man glances at Ollie, and I see his confidence waver.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the man says, though his voice lacks the same bravado.

Ollie steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “See, I think it does. Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like harassment.”

The man opens his mouth to respond, but Ollie doesn’t give him the chance.

“I don’t know who you are, and frankly, I don’t care,” Ollie says, his voice low and dangerous. “But you don’t come in here and intimidate people. Especially not them.” He jerks his head toward me and my dad. “So, I’m going to give you one chance to walk out of here on your own. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

There’s something in his tone—calm but laced with steel—that makes even me shiver. Ollie points to his right eye. “The difference between us is that I’m okay with getting another one of these, cause I get paid to do it.” He narrows his eyes as he looks at the stranger. “Can you say the same?”

The man sputters, his faux arrogance slipping entirely now. “I-I was just leaving.”

“Good call,” Ollie says, his eyes locked on the man. He doesn’t move until the guy turns and walks briskly toward the exit, muttering under his breath.

As soon as the doors swing shut behind him, I exhale a giant breath of air.

“Are you okay?” Ollie asks, turning his full attention to me now.

I nod, though my knees feel a little weak. “Yeah. Totally under control.”

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Sure.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the way my chest warms at his teasing. “Thank you for stepping in, though. He was?—”

“A jackass,” Ollie finishes for me, his expression softening as he glances at my dad. “Danny, are you alright?”

Dad nods, looking a little embarrassed. “I’m fine. That guy was?—”

“Not worth your time,” Ollie says firmly. “If he shows up again, let me know.”

I glance between them, my heart tugging at how effortlessly Ollie handled the situation, as well as how my dad’s eyes brighten from Ollie’s encouragement. Ollie looks so sure of himself, so solid, and for a moment, I let myself imagine what it would feel like to lean on him—not just in a crisis, but always.

“Thank you,” I say again, my voice softer now.

He looks down at me, his eyes holding mine for a beat longer than necessary. “Always,” he says simply.

“Danny!”

Ben’s voice cuts through the air, his tone jubilant at the sight of my father. If only he knew what had happened here a few minutes ago.

“Hey, Ben,” Dad calls out, waving his hand as Ben jogs his way.

“Good to see you back at work. I know we just got back and it’s your first day, but can I get a few minutes with you?” Ben turns my way and nods. “Hey, Anna. Molly said she’s been harassing you today to help get things organized for me coming home?”

“Eh,” I say with a laugh, “all in a day's work.”

“You’re the best,” he says, his tone genuine as his gaze flicks to where Ollie stands, very closely, beside me. If he suspects anything, which he must by now because I know he has at least an Instagram account, he isn’t showing it. He turns his attention back to my dad. “Ready?”

“Sure thing.” As he heads toward the locker room, my dad gives me a look.

“What?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heat.

“Nothing,” he says, but his lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile. He wags a finger my way before the two men disappear from sight.

I watch his retreating figure, my heart thudding in a way that has nothing to do with the adrenaline still coursing through me. I think it’s the man standing beside me.

“I’m glad you made it back safely.” I raise my hand to touch his cheek, a natural instinct really, only to waiver as I get close to his skin. As much as I’m starting to unravel some of these feelings inside, I’m also wary. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really. I’m used to them,” he says, his eyes hooded.

“Care to elaborate on how it happened?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

There’s something in his tone that tells me to leave it alone, so I do. I incline my head toward the exit doors. “Molly’s sent me a list of things she needs me to do now that Ben’s back, including picking up the kids. I should get going.”

“Let me guess,” he says, pushing off the wall to join me. “Something about glitter, baking soda, and an emergency run for last-minute chaos?”

“Bingo,” I say with a sigh, slipping my phone into my bag. “The kids plan to spend their half day harnessing the power of science and sparkly explosions. Aided with some prescriptions for allergies, of course.”

He chuckles. “Sounds about right. I’ll walk you out.”

I blink up at him, surprised. “You don’t have to?—”

“It’s part of the show, remember?” he says, smirking. “Fake-dating and all that. Can’t have the world thinking I’m a terrible fake boyfriend who doesn’t escort his girl to her car.”

The way he says “his girl” sends a warm flush over my skin, and I hate how much I like it.

“Fine,” I say, pretending to roll my eyes as I lead the way out of the arena.

The parking lot is quieter than I expected, the cold air crisp and still. Ollie walks close beside me, his hand brushing mine just enough to make me hyperaware of every step.

“You know,” he says casually, “you’re really selling this whole thing.”

“Selling what?” I glance at him.

“Us,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You’ve got this whole ‘adorable and mildly exasperated girlfriend’ vibe down to a science.”

I laugh despite myself. “Oh, please. You’re the one leaning into the charming hockey player routine like it’s your job.”

He winks. “Because it is.”

As we reach my car, something catches his attention, and his expression shifts. “Hold up,” he says, his voice lowering.

“What?” I ask, turning to follow his gaze.

Across the lot, a man with a camera is standing by one of the arena entrances, clearly aiming it in our direction. My stomach drops.

“Press?” I whisper, a little bit surprised. I can understand them being here for marked occasions, but the team arriving back from away games shouldn’t be one of them.

“Maybe,” Ollie mutters, his jaw tightening. “Or someone trying to stir up trouble.”

Before I can react, he steps closer, his hand gently resting on my waist.

“What are you doing?” My voice is constricted, his touch distracting me fully as his other arm slides around my waist and pulls me in tight. Instinctively, my hands snake their way around his neck.

“Relax,” he says, his voice barely above a murmur. “Play the part and remember rule number one.”

I think back to last week when we made those rules. “Rule One. Only kiss when necessary?”

“That’s the one. I hope you’re okay with this,” are the last words he says before his mouth covers mine.

The thing about this kiss, well, it’s not a quick peck or a casual brush of lips. This kiss is not one I’m expecting from my buddy Ollie, that’s for sure. It’s the kind of kiss that makes everything else fade—the cold air, the parking lot, the tension in my chest. His mouth is warm and insistent, coaxing a response from me that I can’t quite control.

I cannot even fight the shudder of my body as his hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me closer against him, while the other tilts my chin up slightly like he’s making sure I’m right where he wants me. My knees feel weak, and I instinctively grip the back of his jacket to steady myself, which only seems to encourage him.

The kiss is slow and deliberate, and for a moment, I forget why we’re even doing this. It doesn’t feel fake, not when he kisses me like this, like I’m the only thing that matters.

When he finally pulls back, I’m breathless, my heart pounding against my ribs.

“Effective,” he murmurs, his lips still close enough to brush mine.

I’m about to respond—though I have no idea what I’d even say—when we both glance toward the “photographer.”

It’s not a reporter. It’s just a tourist with a camera, clearly taking random photos of the arena.

“Oh, what?” I mutter, half mortified, half laughing.

Ollie chuckles, his hand still lingering on my waist. “Well, that’s awkward.”

“You think?” I pull back slightly, though I can’t quite bring myself to step out of his orbit.

He smirks, his eyes scanning my face. “Hey, it worked. You’re glowing, and if anyone was watching, they’d believe we’re the real deal.”

I bite my lip, hating how much I want to believe it’s more than just part of the show.

“Sure,” I say, feigning nonchalance. “Totally convincing.”

But as he steps back and flashes me one last devastating smile before heading back to the arena, I’m not so sure who’s convincing who.