Page 24

CHAPTER 24

ELLE

T here’s a tiny lump forming in my throat and a knot in my stomach as I step into the office. Today is the day I am coming clean to my colleagues, the coaching staff, and I am nervous. The steady thunk of darts hitting the board greets me, each sound landing with the same precision of my spiraling anxiety. Cannon and Pete are locked in what can only be described as the most intense dart game of all time, complete with furrowed brows and exaggerated concentration.

“Darts again?” I say, setting my purse down and eyeing their intense stances. Cannon’s aiming like he’s at the Olympic trials, while Pete leans back, smirking, holding a mug that boldly reads “ World’s Kind of Okay But Will Do for Now Employee .”

“Game plan meeting,” Cannon replies without looking away from the dartboard.

Pete nods. “Strategizing.”

“Strategizing how to hit the bullseye?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” Pete says, dead serious. “The metaphorical bullseye and also the literal one.”

Ben snorts from his desk, typing furiously. “Translation: Pete’s losing.”

“I’m not losing,” Pete shoots back, but his next dart ricochets off the board and lands in the wall. “Okay, maybe a little.”

I laugh nervously, clutching my coffee cup like it’s a lifeline. I’ve been rehearsing what I’m about to say all weekend.

“Hey, guys,” I start, but my voice comes out weirdly high-pitched, like I inhaled a helium balloon.

Cannon turns around, one eyebrow raised, and Pete looks amused. Even Ben swivels his chair slightly, giving me half an ear.

Deep breath, Elle. You can do this.

“So, um, I wanted to let you know,” I say, focusing on the coffee stain on Cannon’s shirt instead of their faces, “Dixon and I are…well, we’re officially together.”

There. It’s out. I wait for the explosion. When nothing happens, I begin to wonder if they heard me.

“Like a relationship. We do things when we’re not here. Together.”

Another beat, and still nothing. No jokes, no teasing, no over-the-top reaction. Instead, Cannon shrugs and tosses another dart. “Cool. Good for you.”

“Yeah, no surprise there,” Pete adds, looking way too nonchalant.

I blink. “Wait, that’s it? You’re not going to make a big deal out of this?”

Ben adjusts his glasses and grins. “Elle, you’ve been making moon eyes at each other for weeks. It was getting painful to watch. Honestly, this is a relief.”

Cannon nods. “Yeah, I was starting to worry you two would combust before the playoffs.”

Pete smirks. “I had money on this happening. Thanks for making me twenty bucks richer.”

My jaw drops. “You bet on us?”

“Technically, we all did,” Ben says, holding up a hand. “But in my defense, I was rooting for love.”

Cannon grins. “And I was rooting for Pete to lose his money, but hey, you win some, you lose some.”

I don’t know whether to laugh, be offended, or both. “Unbelievable. You guys are the worst.”

Pete raises his mug in a mock toast. “And yet, here we are, on your side.”

I roll my eyes but can’t stop the smile creeping onto my face. Maybe I was overthinking this. At least now, the cat’s out of the bag and I can focus on the real challenge ahead—working with these three lunatics while maintaining my sanity.

“Heels,” Ben says, standing up to stretch. “Did you know I met Molly because she’s the sister of my best friend who I played hockey with in college?”

“No,” I say. “Really?”

“My ex is the daughter of my first coach,” Cannon adds. “Talk about scandal. That man benched me for weeks.”

Pete nods sagely. “Love and sports, it’s all connected. Like peanut butter and jelly.”

Before I can reply, the sound of Sutton’s heels clicking on the tile echoes through the office. She strides in with her usual air of authority, a perfect mix of boss energy and best-friend vibes.

“Hey, Elle. Just the coach I was looking for,” she says, her smile warm but laced with something conspiratorial. “Got a minute?”

I glance at the guys, who are now watching like they’re expecting some juicy gossip. “Sure,” I say, standing. “Try not to stab each other with the darts while I’m gone.”

Pete salutes me with his mug, tossing a dart at the board that rebounds off and skids across the floor, boomeranging at his feet. “No promises.”

Sutton waves me into the hallway, and as soon as we’re out of earshot, she spins to face me, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, I got your text. Did you really tell them about you and…” she stops before saying his name, eyeballing me, “well, you know who.”

“Yeah,” I say, crossing my arms. “I figured it was better to just rip the Band-Aid off and tell everyone.”

“That’s a good start,” Sutton says, her grin growing. “But I think we can do better than simply telling the team. This is a big deal, Elle. You and Dixon are practically a rom-com waiting to happen. It’s a love story. Why not lean into it?”

I narrow my eyes. “Lean into it how?”

She raises her eyebrows like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “A hard launch. I’m talking social media, a fun post, something that gets the fans rooting for you two as much as the team.”

I blink at her, trying to keep up. “A post? You want to, what, announce it to the public on socials?”

“Exactly,” she says, clapping her hands together. “Think about it! A cute photo, maybe a sweet caption. Nothing over the top, just something that says, ‘Hey, world, this is my guy.’ It’ll shut down any rumors before they start and get everyone on your side.”

I hesitate, the thought of going public making my stomach flip. “I don’t know, Sutton. That sounds overdone.”

“Overdone?” She sighs dramatically. “What are you thinking? A banner flying behind a plane?”

“No. I haven’t gotten that far yet.” I peek back into the office, watching Ben as he takes the darts from a bummed-out Pete and locks them in his drawer. “Telling you, the team, and these guys was big enough.”

The sound of someone jogging our way pulls our attention. Todd’s headed our way, waving to Sutton.

“Miss Mahoney, got a quick question for you from the tech booth,” he says, slowing as he reaches us and catching his breath. “They’re getting the cameras ready for the weekend’s game for player interviews and to pan to the crowd for shots, too. They’re wondering if you might want them to do the?—”

“Wait, Todd,” Sutton says, throwing her hand up and cutting him off but keeping her eyes pinned on me. A sly grin begins to creep across her lips as she points a finger in the air. I know this look. It’s usually a preface to some kind of irrational idea like convincing me to take a road trip to a random small town just because “we’ll find the best diner food ever” only to end up at a place that’s closed for the season. Or the time we tried to make candles, only Sutton accidentally set off the smoke alarm and filled the apartment with the scent of burnt lavender, which isn’t as flowery as one would expect.

But, I do know that even if they’re crazy, Sutton’s ideas always have a way of working out. Maybe, just maybe, this one will, too.