Page 13

CHAPTER 13

ELLE

T he office is eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that makes the hum of the fluorescent lights seem deafening. Everyone else has cut out early, probably relishing the rare Friday night off. Cannon shouted something about karaoke, Pete was headed to a movie with some friends, and Ben was taking his family out to dinner.

But me? I’m sitting at my desk, staring at the phone like it owes me answers.

I hang up with a frustrated sigh. Another dead end. Calling around to track down a reporter who wrote a hit piece years ago isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. Especially when that article was the catalyst for one person’s world unraveling.

And especially when thinking about that article inevitably leads me back to him. When I think of him, I think of his lips, and when I think of his lips…well, then I’m going to think about The Kiss.

My stomach flips, unbidden, at the memory of Dixon’s lips on top of mine. The heat of his hands on my waist. The way he looked at me after, like he was daring me to take a step closer instead of running.

No. I can’t think about that. I’m his coach. This is not only unprofessional, it’s wildly unethical. The repercussions could be catastrophic. For me, for him, for the team.

The sound of a text snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts, a notification lighting up the phone on my desk. I grab it, and my stomach does a little flip when I see the name.

Eric.

I shouldn’t even open it. I know better. But curiosity wins, and before I can talk myself out of it, I swipe to read the message.

Hey, Elle. Hope you’re well. I’ve got a new position at Sports Insider, and I’m looking for a solid story to kick things off. Can we set up an interview? Your insight on the team would be huge.

I roll my eyes and type back quickly.

Congrats on the new job. If you’re looking for an interview, you’ll need to go through the proper channels. I can’t make exceptions.

He responds almost immediately.

Come on, Elle. Just this once? It’d mean a lot.

I wish I could send him a picture of me rolling my eyes, but I resist.

No. I’m not here for favors.

I set the phone down with a sharp exhale and a loud grunt, as someone coughs behind me. “Hey, Elle?”

I jump so hard that my chair skids back. My hand flies to my chest. “Did you materialize out of thin air?!”

“What did I do?” Sutton yelps and jumps in response, clutching an imaginary string of pearls. “And why are you so on edge? In here grunting and slamming phones down.”

I blow out a breath and gesture to the phone like it explains everything. “Eric’s texting me and I’ve been trying to track down a source for an old news article and…well, let’s just say it’s complicated.”

Her sharp green eyes narrow as she leans on the edge of my desk and eyes the name I’ve scribbled on a piece of paper. “Jim Wells. Has he done something to you?”

I hesitate. Sutton is not only my boss but also my friend, which makes this tricky. How exactly do I tell her that I’ve been making out with one of her players in between trying to settle in as a coach for her team?

I opt for deflection. “He’s a reporter, and it’s something from years ago that’s decided to rear its ugly head. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Fine, I’ll take your word for it.” She eyes me suspiciously, but thankfully, lets it go. “It’s Friday night, the rare Friday off for us. You need to get out of here. You’re wound up tighter than Campbell after a triple-overtime loss.”

I snort despite myself. “That bad?”

“Worse.” She straightens and grabs her bag. “Let’s go grab a drink. There’s a bar around the corner with killer cocktails. One drink before you head home. My treat.”

I glance at the phone, then back at her. “Fine. But only one.”

Sutton grins like she’s won a prize. I shoot a quick text to Hayden to let her know I’ll be late and follow Sutton out.

* * *

The Blue Line Bar is warm and dimly lit, the kind of place that feels like a cozy refuge from the world. It feels like it’s been around longer than I’ve been alive, evidenced by the slightly uneven floorboards and the vintage Budweiser sign flickering in the corner. Booths with cracked vinyl line the walls, and the bar top is scuffed wood, worn down by years of elbows and beer glasses. It’s perfect. Sutton and I grab a small table near the back, and for the first time all day, I feel myself start to uwind.

We’re halfway through our drinks when the door swings open and a wave of loud laughter follows. My stomach tightens when I see them—Ollie, Campbell, and Sawyer. A few others trail behind, including Henry, and finally, Dixon.

Campbell spots us first, his easy grin widening as he saunters over. “Well, look who decided to join the land of the living. Ladies’ night?”

Sutton rolls her eyes. “One drink does not a ladies’ night make, Campbell. And don’t even think about trying to crash it.”

“Oh, come on. You know you love my company,” he says, dropping into the chair next to mine without waiting for an invitation.

Henry follows suit, leaning an elbow on the table and flashing me a grin. “Team meeting?”

“Wasn’t supposed to be,” I reply, laughing as he pulls a chair over for Sawyer, too. I like Henry. He’s one of the younger rookies on the team, and he’s charming in a harmless, flirtatious way.

“Yet here we are,” Sawyer says as he takes the chair next to Henry. “What are we talking about first?”

I smile, leaning back in my chair as Sutton raises an eyebrow. “You guys do realize we were having a perfectly good conversation without you, right?”

Sawyer drums his fingertips on the table, his grin never faltering. “Doubtful. You were probably talking about how much you missed us.”

Sutton snorts. “Bold of you.”

“Truth be told,” Sawyer says, nudging Henry with his shoulder. “We were debating when we walked in who Elle’s favorite is.”

“Obviously me,” Henry says without missing a beat, his grin widening. “I’m the youngest, fastest, and best-looking. I’ve got rookie charm on my side.”

“Charm is one word for it,” Sawyer mutters.

I raise an eyebrow at Henry. “Rookie charm? Is that what you call the time you fell during the warmup skate last week?”

Campbell bursts out laughing, slapping the table. “Oh man, she got you there. That was brutal.”

Henry narrows his eyes at me, feigning offense. “I thought we had something special, Elle. You gonna do me like that in front of my teammates?”

“She’s just being honest,” Sawyer cuts in.

“It’s one of her best qualities,” Sutton says, raising her glass. “You’ll always get nothing but the truth from this one.”

I can’t help but laugh, sitting in the thick of this. But, there is one person who I saw walk in, and he is very noticeably absent from this table. I look around, craning my neck to see if I can spot him. I feel Dixon’s gaze before I see him. When my eyes slam into his, he’s standing at the bar, watching me. His face is unreadable, but his expression…there’s something there, something intense and unrelenting.

My laugh falters, and for a second, I can’t look away. But then he turns, his shoulders stiff, and disappears into the crowd without a word.

By the time I catch sight of him again, he’s heading for the door. No goodbye. No explanation. Just gone.

I watch the door swing shut behind him, my stomach sinking. I thought we were making progress. That maybe, just maybe, we’d turned a corner.

Apparently not.