Page 12

CHAPTER 12

REESE

“Thanks for meeting with us,” Coach Hardin says as he welcomes me into his office.

Crossland McClaren, the owner of the Bangor Badgers, is already seated across from Coach Hardin’s desk, his Armani suit contrasting with Coach’s track suit in an almost comical way. Still, I love that the owner came to Coach Hardin instead of making him go to his office. It only further proves how cool Crossland is, and how different he is from the previous owner. Blakely used to talk about him, and how big of a prick he was. We all have nothing but respect and admiration for Crossland for coming in and turning our team around.

And after the last month we’ve had, we’re about to approach the first round of the playoffs, which is a huge accomplishment.

“Of course,” I say, taking the open chair next to Crossland as Coach settles behind his desk. “You know I’m available whenever you two need me.” I try to sound as confident as possible, wanting to disguise the nerves I can’t control. I mean, it’s the owner and the coach at the same time. Anyone would be a little intimidated, right?

“We just wanted to have a little sit-down with you,” Coach says. “To let you know how impressed we are with the way you’ve grown our following on the socials.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, shaking off the last of the nerves as he guides us to nothing but a positive topic.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m so happy to have finally found our audience.”

“You really have,” Crossland says, smiling at me. “We’re actually selling out,” he says. “Something that hasn’t happened in three years. And it’s not just our regulars showing up to support us. You’ve reached an entire new audience through your videos,” he continues. “People who are completely new to hockey are supporting us. It’s incredible to see.”

My heart expands in my chest, warmth radiating all over my body. I’m sure the pride is beaming through me. “I’m so proud of our team,” I say. “They deserve the support, the attention. Not to mention the deals the individual players have been getting.”

Coach nods, leaning back in his chair.

“How many is it now?” Crossland asks, looking at Coach.

“Sara says we have a dozen or more in the mix, fifteen already signed.”

I beam brighter at that. Especially knowing Nash has secured several of those deals. The Liquid IV deal, and then the one that came in last month from one of his favorite companies, Roosevelts. They’re still ironing out the details, but that’s almost a done deal.

A bite of guilt gnaws at my insides as they continue to shower me with their praise. I’m grateful for the socials’ performances, but a part of me feels…dirty. Because the content that started it all is based off a lie.

Or was .

I don’t know anymore.

It’s been four months, almost five now, and while Nash and I still pose for the page, we don’t do it as often now, but not because we don’t want to. It’s more we forget, too wrapped up in each other to remember to pull out the camera.

“Is there anything you need from us?” Crossland asks, drawing me back to the present.

My eyes widen. The owner of the Bangor Badgers is asking if I need anything from him. Holy shit. “Um…” Wow. I’m so elegant when I want to be. I clear my throat. “I’m doing good,” I say. “The budget you’ve allotted me for ads is generous, so I have a ton to work with. I’ve even been able to use some of the excess to do giveaways for tickets.”

“Smart,” he says.

“Told you,” Coach adds.

I smile at him. Blakely’s dad has always loved me and welcomed me into his family since my first year of college.

“Is there anything you’d like to… disclose to me?” Crossland asks, offering me an empathetic grin.

It takes me a second to realize what he’s implying. “Oh,” I say, blinking rapidly, panic flaring through me.

“Forgive me for being direct,” he says. “But it’s hard not to miss a theme in your videos. And don’t get me wrong, I’m all for working relationships. Clearly.” He glances at Coach, silently referencing his daughter and Lawson Wolfe. “It’s customary to disclose it, though,” he says. “Officially with HR, but it’s nice to let me in on these things too, so I’m able to prepare in the event…” His voice trails off.

“The event we break each other’s hearts?”

“Yes,” he says. “Having a relationship with someone you work with can be amazing,” he continues. “But it can also be risky. The blowback can be a PR nightmare, not to mention sometimes creating hostile working environments. I just like to be prepared.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding a few too many times. I shake my head, sighing as I shrug. “I honestly don’t know if it’s serious enough to disclose,” I finally answer. The words sting as they come out of my mouth, the effects rattling my heart.

But it’s the truth.

Nash and I have never once spoken about being official instead of fake.

Do we behave like a loyal, monogamous, blissfully happy couple?

Absolutely.

Do I know without a shadow of a doubt he’s as invested as I am?

Absolutely not.

I think back to a month ago, in the bowling alley when I’d gotten a tad jealous of the women accosting him at the bar, and his ridiculously romantic reaction after. I can barely hold back a grin as I picture him climbing onto that table and telling the whole place he belonged to me. It was the most ridiculous and romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, but…Pax was recording. That made me question who the grand gesture was really for, but I hadn’t mustered the courage to ask.

Defining anything with someone who is a notorious bed hopper seems like asking for my blissful little joy bubble to burst. If this is fake to him, and I admit I like him…he could end it.

And I’m so not ready to let him go.

I may never be ready.

“I can say,” I continue when the silence has gotten a little too thick in the room. “Nash and I are both serious enough about our careers to not let it affect our work. We’re so grateful for the roles we’re in and would never do anything to risk that. If things do go badly, you won’t see it in our work. I can promise that.”

Crossland and Coach look at me like they don’t fully believe me, but nod and smile all the same.

“Okay then,” Crossland says. “And if things do get serious enough, be sure to visit HR, will you?”

“Yes,” I say.

“And tell Stokehill to do the same.”

“Will do,” I say, pushing back from my chair as they both stand. “Thanks again,” I say as I head toward the office door. “For the support.”

“Thank you, Reese,” Coach says. “Keep up the good work, kid!” he calls as I head out the door.

“I will!” I call back and do my best to look calm and collected as I head out of the office and back into the hallway of the arena.

Only when I’m out of sight do I blow out a breath, adrenaline making my body shake.

The conversation, while awesome because of the praise for my job well done, has made one thing incredibly clear.

I need to figure out where I stand with Nash.

The sooner the better.

I cheer from our seats in the crowd, jumping and clapping as Nash and Lawson and Pax are all forming an unstoppable unit as they speed toward the goal.

“Ohmigod!” Blakely shouts as Nash passes the puck to Lawson.

“They’re going to do it!” I yell back.

“Go, Pax! Go!” Monroe shouts as Lawson zips the puck to Pax, who then sends it right back to Nash, the trio gliding on the ice like lightning.

We’re all clutching each other’s hands, and I swear the entire crowd silences as Nash pulls his stick back and smacks a shot?—

Right past the goalie, the puck hitting the back of the net.

The buzzer roars, just barely louder than the crowd as the scoreboard shows we’ve won.

Monroe and Blakely and I scream, leaping up and down as we high-five complete strangers in the crowd. We’ve just won a first-round playoff game, something that the Badgers haven’t done in years.

The energy in the crowd is electric, and I settle long enough to look at the ice, spotting Nash looking up at me, smiling and pointing at me.

My heart flips in my chest, and I clap harder, doing my best to show off the jersey with his name on my back. He blows me a kiss before his team envelops him, and I swear I swoon a little bit.

The girls and I hang back for only a few minutes to let the crowds filter out, then we head out to Blakely’s car, going to her place for the night. It’s girls’ night, and we know the boys will be celebrating their win.

“That was incredible,” I say after we’ve all changed into PJ’s and have picked a spot on Blakely’s couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand, a tub of popcorn in the other.

“I’m so pumped for them,” Blakely says.

“We have a shot at the Cup,” Monroe says.

“It’s early,” I say, guarding my hopes. “But this is the closest we’ve ever come.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I shift my treats to the coffee table, pulling it out to swipe open the text.

Sofia: Thanks for fixing that copy on my site!

I grin down at my sister’s text.

Me: That’s what you pay me for, sis. ;)

Sofia: Still. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Did I tell you that ad alone lead to a forty percent conversion rate?

Me: Hell yeah! So proud of you!

Sofia: Thanks! I stuck a fun package in the mail for you.

Me: Oh, is it full of your products? Monroe and Blakely already order your stuff religiously.

Sofia: Tell them these treats haven’t hit the market yet. Blushes and a new lip stain.

Me: OMG they’re going to flip. Thank you!

Sofia: Of course! Congrats on the win BTW. Love you

Me: Love!

“Who are you grinning at?” Monroe asks. “ Nash ?”

I put down my phone and grab my ice cream and popcorn. “No,” I say. “It was my sister. She sent a haul for us.”

“Yes!” Blakely says.

“Lip stains and blushes not on the market yet,” I explain.

“I love your sister,” Monroe says. “I’m texting to tell her that now.” She pulls out her phone, firing off a quick text.

“Tell her I do too!” Blakely says.

I laugh, digging into my strawberry cheesecake ice cream before chasing it with a handful of popcorn.

She puts her phone down for only a second before she gets another text. “It’s Liam,” she says, smiling softly and shaking her head at her phone. “He’s wondering why I’m not home.”

“Didn’t you tell him we were having a girls’ night?” Blakely asks.

“I did,” she says, firing off another quick text before focusing on us again. “But he’s having a bunch of people over at his apartment and must’ve checked to see if we were doing girls’ night at mine.”

“Ahh,” I say, nodding. “Crazy that he lives right next door to you,” I continue.

“I know right?” she asks. “We’d seen each other in the building a few times after he signed to the Badgers, but I see him a ton more now that we’re…”

“Dating,” Blakely finishes when she can’t. “Can you still not admit that? It’s been two months.”

Monroe shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “He’s fun. And nice to me despite all the guys saying he’s a dick. I think he’s just that way on the ice, because he’s never been mean to me.”

“Okay, then why can’t you say you’re dating?” I ask.

“It’s too soon,” she says. “Plus…you know me, I don’t do serious relationships.”

“We know that,” I say. Monroe’s mom is one of the most sought-after divorce lawyers in the country. Growing up seeing so much of the other side of marriage had put anything serious off of Monroe’s radar, despite her parents being happily married. “But we support you,” I continue. “Even if you decided to get serious…with anyone.”

Blakely and I share a look, but don’t push anymore on the subject.

“ Speaking of dating,” Monroe says, turning that look on me and switching the focus. “What about you? Have you and Nash finally admitted there is nothing fake about your fake relationship? Or are you still denying it?”

“I’m not denying anything,” I say. “I’ve told you how ridiculously happy I am with him.”

“And yet part of you still worries it’s not the same for him,” Blakely says, voicing concerns I’ve shared with them many times.

“Wouldn’t you be?” I ask them both. “He’s… Nash .”

“I know,” Monroe says. “Trust me, in the beginning we were worried about you getting hurt.”

Blakely nods her agreement.

“Now we’re worried you might miss out on something great because you’re scared,” Blakely adds.

I sigh, eating another massive bite of ice cream. “I am too,” I say after I swallow the bite. “But I’m scared of it ending,” I admit. “It’s been four months with him, and I don’t want it to end. I want it to be real . And I’m scared if I admit that, he’ll moonwalk away, saying it was never that way for him.” I shake my head, eating some popcorn. “Why ruin something so good?”

“No one is telling you to ruin it,” Monroe says. “We’re just saying, we see you. We see you happy in a way we’ve never seen before, that’s all.”

I nod, smiling at them both. “Thanks. I promise, I’m going to figure it out. I mean, it can’t stay this perfect forever, right?”

“It can,” Blakely says confidently. “But you have to put in the work too.”

“Right, and part of my work is trying to tell the most notoriously non-monogamous Badger that I want him to pick me. Choose me. Only me.”

“What would it take for you, Monroe?” Blakely asks.

“What?”

“You’re basically the woman version of Nash,” she continues.

“Offended,” Monroe teases. “But go on.”

“If you were with someone, trying out a relationship, what would it take to convince you it was worth something more serious?”

“Oh,” I say, catching on. “She has a good point.”

Monroe considers, a barrage of emotions shifting in her eyes. “Patience,” she finally says, surprising me. “Patience and a whole lot of trust.” She shrugs. “I have my reasons for being terrified of commitment. Anyone wanting me for the long haul would have to get that and work with me on it.” She shakes her head. “I sound like a lot of work,” she laughs.

“You are,” I tease. “But to the right person, that wouldn’t be work. It would just…be.” I think about Nash, about the girls who constantly follow him around. It’s not work to be understanding through all of that. It’s not work to consider having to take things slow. It’s…worth everything. He’s worth everything.

“Okay,” Blakely says. “So, Reese, you just need to be patient and understanding, which you already are.”

“Right,” I say, shaking my head. “In the meantime, I’ll just have to hope I’m not way off base with Nash freaking Stokehill.”

“Yep,” Monroe says. “Good luck with that,” she teases.

I laugh at her snark, tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

She catches it with her mouth, throwing her hands up in celebration.

“God, you’re annoyingly awesome all the time,” I tease her.

We all laugh, and Blakely queues up the latest romcom, thankfully switching the attention off me and Monroe both.

Soon we’re just three best friends, indulging in sweet treats and movies.

It’s a fun night to escape into, one where I only think about the possibilities of Nash actually wanting to be with me a few times. The idea alone is enough to send my heart fluttering, so I kill the nerves with junk food, and focus on much needed girl time.