Page 57

THIRTY-FOUR

AUGUSTE

She’s too quiet.

Courtney’s got her legs folded in my passenger seat, chin tucked against her knee and she’s left the music to me.

That’s how I really know something’s wrong. And I know what it is even though she spent all of last night trying to convince me she’s okay. That she’s made peace with the situation with her mom and the asshole she’s married to.

I won’t push her. I’ve learned when she needs coaxing and when she needs space, and right now, space is what she needs.

The silence stretches, broken only by the rhythmic whir of tires against asphalt and the low hum of the engine. I want to reach over and rest my hand on her thigh. Thread my fingers through hers. Pull her back into our bubble and tell her I’ve got her, I always fucking will—but… space .

Still, I need her to know that she’s not alone. That if she needs to break, I’ll be here to stand guard over all her pieces until she’s ready to put herself back together again.

We pull into the Comets’ lot, sun casting long streaks across the pavement. She still hasn’t said a word. Not even when I shift into park.

Then as I’m about to open my door, Courtney’s hand grips mine on the armrest.

“Something feels off today,” she says when I turn to her.

Her profile’s lit gold and bright, but her eyes are the opposite, dark and stormy .

Leaning in, I press my lips to the corner of her mouth in a soft, stolen kiss. “I’m right here, Princess,” I murmur. “No matter what.”

Her hand lingers on my chest for a beat. Then she nods and climbs out, tugging her camera bag over her shoulder. By the time we step through the facility doors, our masks are up. We’re just two friends carpooling to work.

I fucking hate it. But she’s got enough shit to deal with without my ego adding to it.

“Oh, ummm…” Courtney stops me as I’m about to head into the locker room. “Don’t forget Livia is dropping Samson at home earlier today.”

Matheo’s sister has kept Sammy at the shelter she works at during the day. He gets to socialize and run around their yard, and the small fee I pay for the service, helps keep the doors open.

Win-win.

But nothing like hearing my girl remind me that our dog is being dropped off at home early.

Yeah, that’s the biggest motherfucking win I’ve had in forever.

Taking Courtney’s hand, I tug her into one of the dark alcoves with a well hidden fire exit. It’s risky, but today is calling for risks when it comes to loving on her.

“Everything is going to be okay, Court,” it’s all I can tell her in lieu of how I feel.

Before I let her walk away, I steal just one more kiss.

One more taste.

The guys and I are lounging along the bench, watching Dylan and Jürgens go through drills with the goalie coaches. Eli’s sipping his green tea next to Jayden, who’s doom scrolling beside me.

I lean forward, resisting the urge to check my thread with Court.

Instead, I open up the tabs I’ve had open for days.

A-frame cabins in Tahoe. Hidden lake houses in Big Bear.

One with a wraparound deck and looks like it’ll have zero cell reception.

Another with a firepit and private dock.

All of them look like a bookworm’s paradise.

“Ooo,” Jayden leans over, squinting at my screen. “That place looks… cozy .”

I glance over my shoulder to find him grinning like a fool. “Yeah, just scouting places. Might take a trip before the madness begins. ”

He gives me a sideways look. “Uh huh. Solo trip?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

Jayden smirks with a knowing nod, but lets it go. Just as well because Coach stomps past the bench. A flurry of tension follows in his wake as I glance over just in time to catch him barking into his phone.

“Honey, stop panicking. I’ve already sorted a car. It’ll be waiting to take you straight to Washington Memorial.”

Washington Memorial?

I sit up straighter.

“Court,” he adds, voice breaking for a second. “Have a safe flight and text me when you land. Oh and?—”

He pulls his phone from his ear and checks it. Meanwhile, I’m straight in my thread with Courtney.

Auguste: What’s going on? Are you okay?

All I keep going back to is her remark from this morning, Something feels off today .

“Shit,” Coach spits, cursing at the screen and tapping it like mad as our assistant coach approaches him.

“Everything okay, Bobby?”

“My ex-wife’s been in an accident.”

“Fuck, do you need to?—”

“No, Courtney’s on her way.” Coach blows out a frustrated breath. “Everything’s still so complicated with Catherine and her husband…”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Catherine’s in surgery. Skull fracture and lacerated spleen.”

Fuck.

My body goes ice cold—I told Courtney I’d be here for her. It was a promise…

I pace to the tunnel, checking the status of the message I just sent and the one before that. Both sitting unread.

Walking farther down, completely out of earshot, I call Courtney.

Straight to voicemail.

I call again.

Again. Voicemail.

She’s on a plane. On the way to her mom’s side. After yesterday, last night…

Fuck.

Coach is barking directions to the assistants as I pace up and down the tunnel, vibrating out of my fucking skin as I attempt to figure out how to fix this. How to keep my promise to his daughter. My girl .

“Broussard,” he snaps. “You plan on playing the puck with that phone?”

My eyes flash to him, and the pasty color of his skin makes my stomach turn. I feel physically sick.

“I… I need to go.”

Coach stops right in front of me. “Excuse me?”

“There’s been an emergency.” His face loses any color it had left. “It’s a… aah… a family thing. I need to leave. I have to go.”

For a second, I think he’ll fight me. But something flickers across his face—understanding, compassion and I don’t wait for more. What he’s giving me in that one look, I owe Courtney. She is mine and I am hers, and she will not hurt alone.

I rush to the locker room and change into my sweatsuit from this morning. There’s another change of clothes in my kitbag and my ID is in my wallet. It’s all I need.

The moment I’m in the car, I’m calling étienne.

“Auggie, what’s up?”

“I need to get to D.C. today. No delays. I don’t have time for questions. The next commercial flight is tomorrow morning and I need to get to D.C. ASAP.”

“Okay…” étty exhales, already texting on his end. “Alright. Let me loop Marley in. Her clients always have a jet on standby here and there…”

Marley works PR for one of the biggest record labels on the continent. And her clients don’t exactly fly coach, so if anyone can help me, it’s her.

“Sit tight,” he says. “I’ll call you back in five.”

I hang up and stare out the windshield, heart hammering. Courtney’s out there alone… hurting. And I’m not fucking there for her.

My eyes flick to the infotainment screen, a few contacts are listed from when Courtney connected her phone.

One name flashes.

Delilah.

I don’t think about it, I just hit dial and she answers on the second ring.

“Hello?” I take a moment too long to speak and she immediately warns, “Whatever you’re selling is not for me.”

“No. No… it’s Auguste.”

“The Puckinat—” Delilah stops. Then warily, she asks, “Wait, why are you calling me? ”

“Court… her mom,” I say, voice tight. “She was in an accident and now she’s in surgery?—”

“Oh my god.”

“I need to know where she’ll be. I can’t get through to her, and I need to know where she’ll go so I can go to her.”

“Fuck. She’s… she’ll be at the hospital. That’s where she’ll go.”

“Washington Memorial.”

“Yeah, Courtney will be by Catherine’s side. Ask for Catherine Nolan at the information desk. If you have any problem let me know, my mom is a donor there so she can get you in.”

“Thank you,” I say as a message comes through from Marley with flight details from the private airstrip at LAX.

I’m texting her back as quickly as I can so I reroute to the private terminal when Delilah asks, “Can you keep me updated? Courtney has tunnel vision in these situations and?—”

“Yeah, of course.” I nod even though she can’t see me.

I end the call and dial Marley for all the information. Turns out the label is flying a jet to one of their artists in Boston and it’s rigged with enough fuel for a stop in D.C.

Thank fuck. Something has to go our way.

Within the next thirty minutes, I’m boarding the jet.

My legs are bouncing each second that passes and the flight staff brief me on the safety procedures and every other goddamn if, what, and how scenario.

I just need to get to my girl. My palms are sweating and my pulse is spiking.

I’m pretty certain this is what a heart attack feels like.

The moment we lift off, I close my eyes and try to gather myself.

I don’t care what I have to do. Who I have to fight. The hurdles I have to jump.

I’m going to find her.

I’m going to hold her hand through this fucking nightmare, and I’m not letting her go.

Ever .