Page 23

CHAPTER 23

DIXON

T he Blue Line Bar is one of those places that doesn’t need to try too hard to feel authentic. It’s a little rough around the edges, but dependable, kind of like me, I guess.

And tonight, it’s exactly what I need. What we need. Low-key. Familiar. And perfect for this Ocean’s Eleven-inspired plot that I know we’re about to pull off.

I sit at the bar, a worn baseball cap pulled low and a hoodie zipped up to my chin. I doubt anyone’s going to recognize me, but in case they do, I’m keeping a low profile. Well, as low of a profile one can when they’re over six foot two and built to block pucks.

A few stools down, Campbell nurses a soda and looks completely interested in the game playing on the TV above the bar. He’s good at blending in, better than I am, even though his sheer size usually makes that a challenge.

Across the room, Elle sits in a booth near the back. She’s got her tablet in front of her, scrolling through something, probably trying to look busy while she waits. She said she was happy to be here, but part of me hates that we’re putting her through this. However, she’s a necessary part of this plan for it to come together.

In the booth right beside hers, Trevor has set up shop and looks like a college student studying for finals. He hunches over his laptop, picking at a basket of fries. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just some guy grabbing dinner. But I know better. Trevor is here for a reason, like the rest of us.

I cast a glance toward the pool tables near the back. Sawyer’s there, leaning against a cue stick like he’s got all the time in the world. He’s pretending to scope out his next shot, but I can tell he’s keeping an eye on Elle. With that, the Andrews Five is complete.

This plan never would’ve come together if it weren’t for these guys—this family of mine. It’s not just about hockey with us; it’s about showing up for each other, no matter what. And tonight, they’re showing up for me, and for Elle, in a big way.

I check my phone, glancing at the time. Eric should be here soon. My jaw tightens just thinking about him. I’ve dealt with my share of jerks trying to get a rise out of me in my life. Wanting to do something to take me down a notch. But Eric? He’s in a league of his own.

Campbell catches my eye and gives me a subtle nod. I nod back, letting him know I’m good, we’ve got this.

This whole thing was my idea, but I know it wouldn’t be happening without the guys. Trevor, Sawyer, Campbell—even Elle, who doesn’t know the full extent of what we’ve planned.

The door swings open and I instinctively straighten, my gaze snapping to the entrance. Eric strides in, looking just as smug as I expected. I hold my breath. This is the part where if he sees one of us, he could walk right back out that door, but he doesn’t. He pauses, scanning the room, and then heads straight for Elle’s booth.

I lean back on my stool, my fingers gripping the edge of the bar. It’s game time.

Eric doesn’t even notice Trevor as he walks past him. No surprise there. Trevor’s practically invisible since he’s known to most as the giant beaver on skates. But I see it: the subtle movement of Trevor adjusting his hat before sliding his iPhone a little closer to the edge of the table.

That’s what I was waiting for. He gave me the signal. It’s a quick scratch to his temple, like he’s got an itch, and I know it’s time.

I pull out the singular AirPod he’d given me and pop it in, keeping my movements slow and casual. A glance to my left confirms Campbell’s doing the same with his AirPod, his expression as bored as ever, like he’s just here to kill time. But I know better. Campbell’s dialed in, ready to catch every word with me.

Trevor’s phone is set to Live Listen, and now, with a tap of my AirPod, I can hear the faint murmur of Eric’s voice as he greets Elle. A quick glance Campbell’s way tells me he’s done the same.

“Elle,” Eric says smoothly, his tone oozing fake charm. “You look great.”

“I know,” she responds, her tone flat, causing both Campbell and me to choke down a laugh.

“And so humble,” he jeers as he plops down across from her. “Thanks for meeting me.”

Elle’s voice comes through clear, but there’s an edge to it. “I didn’t really have a choice, did I? You’ve been hounding me nonstop.”

“Hounding sounds so trite, I like to be seen as persistent,” Eric corrects, like he’s proud of himself. “I thought you’d appreciate that, considering your line of work.”

I clench my jaw, my hand tightening around my glass. The arrogance in his tone and his proximity to Elle both make me want to put him through the nearest wall. Like in the cartoons, where all that’s left is an Eric-sized cut out where he’s been shoved through.

“Get to it, Eric. What do you want?” Elle’s not wasting any time, and I silently cheer her on. She doesn’t owe this guy a thing.

“Simple,” Eric says, smug as ever. “I need access. An interview with someone from the team. Gotta say, the more research I do on Campbell Stockton, the better he looks. But maybe he’s one of those guys who only looks good on paper?”

Across the bar, Campbell shifts in his seat, his jaw tightening as his name gets thrown around like a bargaining chip.

“I’m not your booking agent,” Elle snaps.

Eric lets out a low chuckle, dripping with condescension. “No, but you’re the best I’ve got.”

“But why is that?” she presses. “I don’t know, but I can’t believe me, the one person who cannot stand you, is the best you’ve got.”

“Well, believe it. Especially when you’re the new female coach for an AHL team.”

Hearing his words, I know Elle is ready to wrestle him to the ground and put him in a figure-four headlock for saying that. Call her coach, and a good one, but don’t––and I repeat do not––call her gender into it.

“Watch it,” she growls, but Eric doesn’t get the memo.

“Come on, a woman as a coach? Even you know that would be a great read.”

“Leave your sexism at the door,” Elle snaps.

“I think that I’m getting this wrong. Maybe you’re the story I need,” he says, his tone even more condescending than before. “I mean, not everyone would step down from the NHL for coaching like you did. What happened?”

“You know that Sutton is an old friend and I’d do anything for her.” She tosses her hands in the air. “Sorry, but there’s the scandal. A woman supporting another woman.” She then tosses herself back into her seat, throwing a hand to her forehead as if she were about to pass out. “Ahh! Eeek! The horror!”

Again, Campbell and I both suck back laughter, locking eyes as we listen. Honestly, I would want Elle to be in charge if there were a zombie apocalypse. She would rain down fire if she had to, and I think Eric’s about to get lit.

“There’s my girl,” he says snidely. “Sarcastic and deflective.” He knocks on the table, then wags a finger her way. “You know, I think you’re right. I’m not going about this the right way. I should lead with the goalie.”

Now it’s my turn to get my hackles up.

“The goalie?” Elle asks, innocently.

“Yes, the goalie.” He sneers as she leans over the table. “Dixon Andrews. Bet there’s a lot of dirt I can dig up on him. You could help there considering how cozy the two of you looked last night.”

Campbell looks my way, but the sound of Elle’s voice getting a bit louder and a lot firmer breaks the moment.

“You will keep his name out of your mouth,” she says, her chin tipped in defiance. My heart not only skips ten beats, but there’s a wave of smug satisfaction that spreads through me. That’s my girl.

“Or what?” he taunts.

“I don’t have to answer that; just know I have my own information I can use if needed.” She dips her head in his direction. “About you.”

Eric chuckles. “You’ve always been good at getting information, haven’t you? After all, your notes were pretty thorough. Probably still are. Saved me a lot of time back in the day.”

That’s it. A pause stretches out, heavy and electric. I grip my glass harder, already bracing myself for the explosion I know is coming.

Elle doesn’t disappoint. “You absolute piece of—” She cuts herself off, taking a deep breath. Her voice is icy when she continues. “You’re admitting it. You stole my notes.”

“Borrowed,” Eric corrects, his tone smug. “You left them lying around on your desk. That’s on you, sweetheart.”

Campbell and I exchange a quick look, both of us silently fuming, but Elle’s not finished.

“You stole my work, twisted it, and sold it to a reporter to do what, ruin Dixon and a few other players,” she spits, her voice gaining an edge that would make anyone with a brain back down. “Those notes were always in files, never left out, so you violated my privacy. You didn’t just cross a line, you torched the whole flipping field.”

Eric doesn’t even flinch. “You’ve got nothing on me.”

“Oh, I have plenty,” she fires back. “Including a conversation with Jim Wells, the reporter who wrote that article. He confirmed everything. How you suddenly showed up with details you couldn’t have possibly known unless you’d ‘creatively borrowed’ them from someone on the inside. You. Stole. My. Notes.”

Eric’s smugness falters for a split second, but he recovers quickly, leaning back like he’s untouchable. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not working. You don’t have the guts to do anything with that info.”

Elle leans forward, her voice low and venomous. “Try me. Because I’ve got nothing to lose and a whole lot of people who would love to see you go down.”

The tension crackles in the air. I watch as Eric’s bravado wavers, just a flicker of uncertainty in his expression before he stands abruptly.

“You’re making a mistake,” he mutters, but it’s weak, all bark and no bite.

“Funny, that’s what everyone says when they’re proven wrong,” Elle retorts, leaning back with a smile sharp enough to slice through his ego.

Eric straightens his jacket, clearly trying to save face, when Campbell, who was probably trying to be stealth, stands up so fast that he knocks over the stool he was sitting on at the bar. It’s loud, and when I look, he’s grinning my way and I know it was deliberate. And so completely Campbell.

Eric’s head snaps toward the sound, his brows knitting as recognition dawns. “Wait. Is that…”

Campbell walks over to their table, casually lifting his beer in a mock toast. “Hey, bud. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or, y’know, someone who’s not afraid to knock you on your ass if you give Elle any more crap.”

Eric blinks, then stammers, “What are you even doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Campbell says, his voice light but laced with sarcasm. “Having a drink. Being awesome. Oh, and keeping an eye on Elle, because unlike you, she’s actually worth protecting.”

Eric’s face goes pale, but he’s not ready to retreat yet. At least, not until Sawyer steps out of the shadows by the door, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall like he’s been there the whole time.

“Hey, Eric, right?” Sawyer drawls, his grin dangerous. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Pretty brave showing up when you’re outnumbered. Or is it just plain stupid?”

Eric takes a step back, his gaze darting between the two men. He swallows hard, trying to find some kind of footing. “This isn’t…I didn’t know?—”

“That Elle isn’t alone?” Sawyer interrupts smoothly, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between them. “Yeah, you should’ve thought about that. But thinking isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

Eric stammers something unintelligible, and that’s when I make my move. I rise from my stool, slow and deliberate, and stroll toward the table. Eric’s eyes widen when I step into his line of sight, dropping the hoodie to reveal my face. He takes a shaky breath as I stop directly in front of him, towering over him by at least six inches. I take the earbud out of my ear and show it to him.

“We heard everything,” I say, my voice calm but carrying the weight of a thousand warnings. “The way I see it, you’ve got two choices: you can walk out the door on your own, or fly out with my help––and please, trust me when I say I will toss you from here to the next state over if I have to. It’s your call.”

His jaw works like he’s trying to form a comeback, but nothing comes out. Instead, he glances at Campbell and Sawyer, who are both watching him like cats eyeing a cornered mouse.

“Uh…” Eric clears his throat. “I’ll, uh…yeah, I’ll go.”

“Smart,” I say, stepping aside to give him a clear path. Do I want to knock this man into next week? I do, for me and for Elle, but I also learned a long time ago that I’ll get nowhere if I don’t control myself. That’s why I like the ice, I can take it there.

Eric grabs his coat and practically bolts for the door, his tail tucked firmly between his legs. The second the door swings shut behind him, a collective exhale passes amongst our group.

Trevor finally looks up, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Well, that was anticlimactic, but I recorded the whole thing.”

“Thanks, Trevor,” Elle murmurs, reaching over the booth to tap his shoulder.

“I was really hoping for a bar fight,” he says with a shrug, teasing. “Guess I’ll just have to finish my burger instead.”

Campbell chuckles, raising his beer. “Don’t worry, Trevor. Next time we’ll let you take the lead. Maybe you can whack him with your keyboard.”

“Or your beaver tail,” Sawyer chuckles.

“I’d prefer to sue him into oblivion,” Trevor says, deadpan, “but thanks for the suggestions.”

Elle shakes her head, a laugh bubbling out despite herself. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“You’re welcome,” I tell her, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her temple. “Now, can we please get some food? The stress of this whole thing made me hungry.”

Elle laughs again, her smile widening as she looks around at all of us. “That sounds good, but first”—she casts a look my way—“I think we need to let them in on our secret.”

Trevor’s head snaps in our direction, but Sawyer and Campbell both roll their eyes.

“Secret?” Trevor asks.

“Please,” Sawyer says. “If you’re about to tell us that you guys are dating or whatever, we know.”

Elle looks at me, her eyes questioning, and I shrug.

“Truth, Elle,” Campbell says as he slides into the booth next to her. “We know. We don’t care. So, does anyone want to split the potato skins with me?”

I can understand Elle’s confusion as she takes in their reaction. Thankfully, Trevor gives us something to work with.

“Wait, you guys are like together, together?” His gaze flicks back and forth from me to Elle and back again. “Like, now. Together?”

“Yes.” Chuckling, I nod, my eyes now locked with Elle’s. “We’re together, together.”

Trevor looks at us, to the guys, then grabs his menu. “Cool.”

Campbell bounces in his seat. “Now that we’ve got that settled, can we please order some appetizers?”

“You bet we can,” Elle says. “Dinner’s on me.”

“Perfect,” Campbell says, waving his menu. “I’m ordering the most expensive thing.”

“You would,” I groan.

Trevor grins. “Get the filet mignon with some gold sprinkled on it…”

As the others cram into the booth with us, I settle across from Elle, and for the first time all night, the tension in my chest starts to unwind.

Whatever happens next, we’ve got this. Together.