Page 18

CHAPTER 18

ELLE

I pace the length of my tiny living room, phone pressed to my ear as it rings. Again. And there’s no answer. Again.

“This is Elle Carter,” I say when the voicemail picks up, keeping my voice steady but firm. “I’m calling about the article you wrote a few years back about goalie Dixon Andrews. Please call me back as soon as possible.”

I hang up and let out a frustrated sigh, tossing the phone onto the couch. It’s been two days since team bonding night at Ben’s house. Also known as a night involving a board game marathon, way too many snacks, and oh yeah, Dixon’s lips on mine.

I touch my mouth absently, the memory making my stomach flutter and my cheeks burn. It had been a moment of pure, unfiltered connection…until Campbell walked in and saw everything. He swore he wouldn’t say a word, but that doesn’t stop the embarrassment from creeping in every time I think about it.

Not that I regret it. Not for a second.

The sound of a key in the front door pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. I watch it open, revealing Hayden with a mischievous grin on her face.

“I left my sweater. Thought I’d grab it before Nan and I head out for tea,” she says, brushing past me into the living room.

“Tea?”

Behind her, Nan steps in slowly, her eyes landing on me and her lips curling at the corners.

“Hello, Nan,” I say warmly, holding the door as she enters.

“Afternoon,” she replies with a kind smile. “Hayden insisted I leave the house today. Apparently, I need a break from my knitting.”

“Or maybe the world needs a break from you knitting everyone lopsided scarves,” Hayden teases, dropping her purse onto the couch.

Nan smirks. “People should be grateful for my scarves, Hayden. The one I’m making you will keep you from freezing to death in those fashion disasters you call jackets.”

“Well, you trying to finish your knitting is why we’re now running late for our afternoon tea.” Hayden laughs and flops onto the couch, pulling her phone out of her purse. “We’ll go in a second, I need to update our reservation first.”

Nan settles into the chair by the window, her sharp eyes already fixed on me.

“Hayden says you two are settling in. Do you like it here?”

I walk over to the couch and sit down, grabbing my phone from its crevice and tapping it on my knee. “I’m getting used to it. River City has a much different feel from Chicago, and I do love that city.”

“It’s a great place,” Nan agrees. “I’ve been in my day. We’d stay at the Drake on Michigan Avenue and would sit in the bar of the hotel, right in the same spot where Marilyn Monroe sat with Joe DiMaggio.”

“I know that spot. I’ve sat there, too, right where he carved their initials in the bar. It’s such a great slice of history, isn’t it?”

Nan’s smile is sweet as she closes her eyes and, most likely, takes a walk down memory lane. “Those were some good days.”

We sit here like this, in silence, for a moment until her eyes snap open and she turns to face me full-on.

“So, Elle, how did you get into coaching hockey?” Her words fire out like I’m being interrogated for a new job. The question catches me a little off guard, but I roll with it.

“My dad played semi-pro when I was little. He coached my brother’s team, so I was always hanging around the rink. I played through college, then on other teams, working my way up through the ranks. Eventually, I realized I liked coaching more than playing.”

Nan nods approvingly. “And you enjoy working with the team?”

“I do,” I say honestly. “They’re a great group. Hardworking, competitive, and surprisingly good at pretending to listen to me.”

Nan chuckles softly. “And Dixon?” she asks, her tone careful. “How is he to work with?”

I hesitate, choosing my words cautiously. “I’m only working with him one-on-one temporarily, but I find him to be one of the most driven players I’ve seen. Sets a great example for the team.”

Nan’s expression softens, but there’s something else in her eyes now—something sharper. “He’s had a rough time of it, you know. People taking advantage of him.”

I glance at her, my stomach tightening. “That’s not nice to hear.”

She exhales, leaning back slightly. “Years ago, someone he trusted ran their mouth to the press. Shared things they had no business sharing like his personal struggles, things he confided in them.”

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I sit down slowly on the arm of the couch. The article. It’s like the gift that keeps on giving, but I want to return it. I just need a receipt. “What kind of things?”

“Someone said he had imposter syndrome.” She tilts her head, studying me. “That he doubted himself and it was affecting his mental health.” Her voice sharpens. “Can you imagine how humiliating that was for him? To have the world questioning his ability to handle his own career?”

My stomach twists. “I actually know exactly what you’re talking about.”

Nan’s eyes narrow slightly. “You do?”

“Yes,” I admit, my voice quiet but steady.

“He’s told you?”

“Kind of. He and I met a few years ago, you know.”

Nan sits up a little taller. “What do you mean?”

The energy shifts quickly in the room, like a forceful wind blowing through picking up dust and scattering its sediment around us. I hold up my hands in surrender as Hayden’s head snaps up from her phone to witness the exchange.

“It was you.” Nan straightens, her gaze like a laser. “Wasn’t it? You’re the one who spilled the beans to the media.”

“No. I didn’t.” Why does it feel like Dixon was easier to convince than Nan is going to be this time around? “We talked at a skills camp about being in the NHL and how it was affecting him at that time. I was learning how to be an effective coach at that camp, so we sat and spoke at length so I could take notes and use him as a model for how we, as coaches, can work with our players who are struggling.”

“And then you told the reporter?” Nan presses.

“Still, no.” I get it. Dixon said she was his ride or die, so of course Nan is going to come at me. “Everything we talked about I took to heart. I was never going to do anything with that information unless Dixon wanted me to.”

Nan’s pursed lips move back and forth, making me think she’s probably grinding what teeth she has left in there. “You’re saying he confided in you , but you weren’t the one who betrayed him?”

I nod. “He used to think it was me. He blamed me for a long time, but I swear, it wasn’t.” I hold up my mobile phone. “Nan, I want you to know I’ve been busy tracking down the reporter who wrote the article. I’m trying to figure out who actually leaked it to him.”

Nan’s silence stretches for a moment before she speaks, her voice low but firm. “If this is all true, then you need to find out who it was, Elle. If not for your peace of mind, then for his. And mine.”

“I want to, but I’m worried they won’t want to tell me who their source was,” I say, meeting her gaze. “But I will do everything in my power to get to the truth, Nan. I’m not letting this go until I find out what I need to know.”

Nan leans on her cane as she stands, her expression softening just slightly. “Good. Because Dixon deserves better than what he got. And if you care about him, even a little, you’ll make sure of it.”

“I do care,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

She doesn’t respond, instead Nan gives me a small, knowing nod before turning to Hayden. “Ready to go, dear?”

Hayden glances up, then back at her phone. “Two more minutes. They’re updating the reservation system.”

“Updating the system?” Nan sighs and looks back at me. “This is like being on Timber. Every few days, that app needs to update.”

“Timber?” I ask, meeting Hayden’s quizzical gaze as she looks my way and shrugs.

“Yes, Timber,” Nan says, waving a hand in the air. “You know, the dating app. I have a profile on there ‘cause I ain’t dead yet.”

“I think you mean Tinder, Nan,” Hayden manages through spurts of giggles.

“Whatever,” Nan hisses.

“Woo hoo, success!” Hayden finally stands, grinning as she tosses her phone into her bag. “We’re set. Nan, let’s get outta here. I’m craving a cucumber sandwich.”

Nan rolls her eyes as she stands. “We’ll let you know how the tea is, Elle. Maybe you’ll join us next time.”

“Maybe,” I say, my mind still spinning as she makes her way to the door.

Hayden waves. “I won’t be too late. Home for dinner, for sure.”

The door shuts behind them, and I sink back onto the couch, staring at the phone now sitting on the old table in front of me.

I don’t know when the reporter will call back, but when they do, I’ll be ready. Nan’s right—Dixon deserves to know the truth. And I’m not stopping until I find it.

Throwing my head back, I stare up at the ceiling and Nan’s words linger in the air around me like the faint scent of her lavender perfume.

And if you care about him, even a little, you’ll make sure of it.

That’s the problem. I do care. I care so much it scares me.

I glance at the phone again, my heart thudding in my chest. Dixon used to think I betrayed him. He doesn’t anymore, at least he says he doesn’t, but the past still hangs between us. I don’t want things to get muddied, but they already are. They have been and were from before I arrived on Renegades turf.

I know I’m feeling some kind of way about this man and I’m willing to risk everything I’ve ever worked for to simply kiss him on the sly. It feels amazing when his lips are on top of mine; there’s a thrill to the whole thing and I can only hope he’s feeling the way I do.

If this is our chance, I don’t want to let it slip away.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I’ve got my phone in my hand and I’m pulling up Dixon’s contact and typing a quick message:

Hey, are you free for an early dinner on Sunday?

My thumb hovers over the send button for a second longer than necessary. Then I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and press it.

The message sends, and I set my phone down, my chest lighter than it’s been in days. I can’t control the past, but I can try to build something different now.

Maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something better.