Page 25 of Falling Offsides

“Is everything okay?” She asks, stepping in front of me and walking backwards in hasty steps so I don’t trample her. Her sneakers squeak with every step, cutting through the silence of her unanswered question when she dips her head to find my stare. “Auguste…”

“Everything’s fine,” I mutter, cutting her off before she continues. “I’m fine.”

There’s a beat of silence. Her face falls. Then her footsteps recede as she moves out of my way.

I don’t look up.

I don’t look back.

In spite of the nagging voice that’s screamingassholein my ears. I walk into the cool down room. Strip and find an ice tub to sink into.

The cold that cuts through my body should be enough to clear my head of every thought of Courtney. But it’s not. And it doesn’t.

The PR suiteis quiet when I walk in. Jayden and Eli are already halfway through signing their pile of merch. Jayden has his headphonesin while Eli simply gets the job done—it’s the way they operate together. The two of them are the fucking best defense duo in the league. I’ve never known two dudes to be so in sync they only need to share a look to know what the other means.

“Hi,” the new PR intern greets me with a smile, standing to place a few black and gold sharpies next to the stack of merch with my name printed on a sheet of paper. “You can sign the jerseys on your number, name or on the team logo. Pucks on top, and once you’re done make sure you go into the room at the end and get your portrait taken.”

“Thanks…” I lean forward, squinting at the staff ID around her neck.

“Cecilia,” she tells me.

“Thanks, Cecilia.”

Her smile broadens. “You’re welcome. Do you need a seat?”

Shaking my head, I make a start on the pucks. They’re the most tiring to sign because the space is smaller, requires more control… grip… it’s?—

“Hey, Cece, do you have a—” Courtney’s voice comes to an abrupt stop as I spin to look at her.

She doesn’t fucking smile like usual. Her brows pinch together instead, and with a bite of her bottom lip, she turns away, back into the portrait room with a “Never mind.”

Fuck.

She’s obviously pissed at me; I remind myself that it’s for the best.

Especially if I’m meant to go and have my portrait taken by her.

“Think she’s finally made it to the anger phase of what you did to her?” Jayden taunts.

“Can you quit it? I fucking hit her with a puck… I know. I was there. And this is hockey, shit like that happens every fucking day?—”

“What’s your problem?” Eli grumbles, standing next to Morrow like he’s ready to jump to his literal defense.

“Yeah, Bruce, what’s your problem?”

“Just forget it,” I mutter, focusing back on the jerseys in front of me while they start on their pucks.

I’m signing my last jersey, and Cecilia is folding the pile I’ve already done when Courtney walks out of the adjoining room. She’s laughing, and the sound makes my chest squeeze tight.

I can’t resist the urge to look at her.

Mistake.

Bigfuckingmistake.

“I think you captured my bad side in great light,” PT Jordan purrs,leaning over her shoulder to look at his photo on her camera. “Might just be a photographer after all.”

The asshole doesn’t need to be so close. His fucking chest is pressed to her shoulder. Courtney isn’t fazed by it. Her posture is relaxed while she remains focused on reviewing his shots. And the motherfucker is lapping it up… he’s a goddamn PT, he should understand personal space.