Page 11

eleven

Noah

Paisley: I’m running late. Still coming.

I reread her text and lower my phone to the table, loosening my tie to allow in more air. It’s banquet night, and the entire team and their families are stuffed in a hotel conference room with long tables that are squished together with zero air flow. I reach for my water glass, and I bounce my leg up and down underneath the table.

Paisley is still not here, but guess who is?

The woman Bill invited for me.

Yep, forgot about her.

Katie or Kinsley . . . I can’t even remember her name. She’s smiling at me from across the table, and every few minutes she bats her lashes and tries to make small talk. It’s not her fault she got swept into Bill’s plan.

This is what he does.

“I watched all your home games this season.” Once again, she leans forward, flashing me a big-teeth smile. Even if Paisley wasn’t on her way here, I don’t want to flirt with this person.

“Hmm?” I grunt out, barely looking in her direction. What am I supposed to say? That this is a mistake? She needs to go home. Sweat beads on my brow as I scan the room for Paisley again.

We finish listening to Coach Carlson give his welcome speech. It wasn’t his worst one, but it also wasn’t anything I haven’t heard before. Coach takes his seat, and now it’s Bill’s turn to ramble. Bill’s the only guy in the room not wearing a tie as he opted for a Granite Ice Polo shirt and trousers. I guess you can set your own dress code when you own the team.

“Good evening, everyone.” Bill nods a few times from his place at the podium.

As I stare at him, I can’t help but feel a tinge of resentment. I’ve never felt this way about him before, but it almost seems like I’m thinking clearer now than I ever have. Maybe it’s because I’m off my meds, but who knows.

Karen, or whatever her name is, flicks her hair over her shoulder, trying to get my attention. I wonder if Bill paid her to sit by me and act like that? It’s not above his character if there’s something in it for him, especially since he’s done it before. Needing to sulk, I slide my elbow onto the table and drop my chin into my palm. I think it’s time to move.

Move to a different table where it’s not so crowded.

And I need to move out of Bill’s house.

And if it was up to me, I would move to another team.

The crazy thing is that I almost got signed into the NHL, but I was so worried about leaving my mom that when the scouts came, my anxiety went through the roof. I couldn’t handle the pressure, and I purposely blew a few too many passes. As I slouch down in my chair and survey the room, I feel my mistake deep in my gut. This team is going nowhere. If I stay for another year, I’ll be stuck and nobody will ever take me seriously.

My gaze hitches on a black shape outside the ballroom doors. At a second glance, I confirm it’s Paisley. She always wears black, and her long hair hangs down, fanning all around her. I flash a silent two-finger wave and scoot my chair back. There is no way I’m going to have her come over here and get the wrong idea about Kayla or Kitten or whatever her name is. Speaking of what’s-her-face, she stares at me with wide eyes, and I freeze before I mumble, “Ah, sorry, I’m not feeling the best.”

Before she has a chance to pull me back, I race out of the room. I’m out the door, scanning in all directions. She was here a second ago. I spin on my heel and almost run smack into her. “Hey!” I call out and quickly relax as I lean in for a hug and drop a kiss on her cheek. I’ll never tire of doing that. “Glad you made it.”

“Sorry, I’m late.” Her lashes flutter as she struggles to meet my gaze, and it’s all over her pale face that something isn’t right.

I drop my hand to her hip. “What’s going on?”

Her lips pinch together and her gaze angles away, and for the slightest of moments, I think she’s mad about Kasey. Kacy. Whatever her name is, and I blurt out, “That lady I was sitting with is someone Bill invited. I don’t even know her name.”

She glances behind me as if searching for someone. “I didn’t notice anything.” Her face doesn’t even bend toward the room as she finally directs her gaze at me, and whispers, “Maybe I’m overreacting, but I think I have a stalker.”

My brows pull up, as that’s the last thing I expect to hear. “Why do you think so?”

“Do you remember when I lost my camera, and then when I got it returned, the memory card was missing?”

My ears hyper-attune as alarms go in my head. “Yes.”

“When I got in my car earlier, there was a small packet on the windshield. At first, I thought it was a parking ticket, but it was my photos.” She holds up her index finger. “Not the memory card like they wanted to return it to me. Instead, just a few of them printed out and no note.”

“Well, that’s a good thing if someone found your photos, right?” I gesture forward. “I mean, you already turned in your article, but it’s nice to have them back.”

“Look.” She inhales a deep breath, and her shoulders fall on her exhale. When she looks back at me, her fiery eyes are potent. “I’ll be honest. I had a variety of photos on that camera, and the prints they left on my car were some of the worst ones. Ones I’d never want anyone to see. It feels like blackmail.”

That’s sketch.

My mind rolls through all the possible images she can have, but it seems silly, and I’m confused. “What do you mean ‘blackmail’?”

“Nothing really bad, like inappropriate photos.” Her cheeks flame red. “I took photos through all the games. Since you guys lost a lot, most of the photos weren’t painting you guys in the best light. So, it almost feels like they are trying to . . . I don’t even know the right word, but it doesn’t feel helpful. Why not just give me my memory card? Plus, when I was leaving, I swore a car followed me, and now I’m scared to be alone.”

Anger bubbles in my gut as it doesn’t sound like a coincidence. At some point she must have made an enemy. Nobody would do this unless they were trying to mess with her. “Do you know anyone in Mapleton that you upset?”

“Not really, but it would need to have been someone at the gala, or there shortly after, to get my camera.” She stares off in the distance as she jabs the end of her thumbnail between her teeth.

I don’t usually get alarmed by much, but a spiral of goosebumps snakes up my spine, irritating my nerves. I don’t want her to go anywhere alone. I actually don’t want her here at all, and I blurt out, “I know you have to get back to New York, but I don’t want you leaving tonight. Someone might be following you.”

Her eyes swell even rounder. “I wasn’t going to leave until morning, because it’s a five-hour drive.”

“I think you should stay at my house.” Someone might be listening to us. I scan the hall, finding it still empty, but I drop my voice anyway. “If they know where you work, you can bet they know where you’ve been staying.”

She stares past me, as if studying something down the hall. “Maybe just for this one night. Just to be safe.”

I take her hand in mine and slide a foot toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

While jerking her thumb back over her shoulder, a look of remorse flashes on her face. “What about the banquet?”

“It’s fine.” I don’t look back. “I’m not missing anything. It’s just a bunch of people in expensive clothes.” I don’t tell her that my gut is uneasy for her, and that it’s crawling up my throat.

I’m an absolute idiot for not refilling my meds.

Why was I thinking that I would be fine?

I’ve been busy, but it’s not an excuse.

I swallow, forcing all my anxiety down, yet again. All I want to do is get her somewhere safe, where I know we aren’t being watched. Maybe I’ve watched too many thriller movies, but everything about this screams stalker.

I usher her out the door, mapping a route to my house that’s different than my usual one in case anyone is following us. All these horrid thoughts jumble in my head, and my heart putters fast, sounding alarms.

With the exception of the security lights above the garage and the single light shining out from under the front door, my house is dark when I pull into the garage. “Home sweet home.”

Paisley’s unnatural pale hand finds her door handle, and she gets out. My heart drums against my chest, and my gaze scans all around the massive eight-stall garage, as I search for anything out of the ordinary. “Ah, this way.” I gesture toward the door while I wait for her, and then wrap an arm around her waist as soon as she meets up with me.

I open the door slowly, pushing my nose first, and sigh when I see Puck lying in his spot. It’s a secure feeling, even though Puck is old. Nothing will ever get past him. I sigh as I bend to pat his head. “This is Puck, Bill’s dog.”

“Wait a second.” Her gaze skirts side to side. “This is Bill’s house?”

I nearly choke. I forgot to clue her into that part. How she could think this mansion is mine makes me almost snort. “I’m staying here this year to save money. It was either that or get a second job. I didn’t want to be exhausted from working all the time and have it affecting my game.”

“Ah, okay.” Her feet slide together into a proper stance.

“You can relax.” I raise my hand, inviting her further into the house. “He’s not even home. He’s at the banquet, and I’m sure they will be out for a while.” My heart is beating so hard that I place my hand against it and pray it doesn’t explode. When I got out of bed this morning, I didn’t plan on having to run off a stalker.

Paisley’s eyes lock on my hand over my heart, and her lips part, but she’s silent.

I scan along the floor for an inkling of a clue to where Puck put my meds. I can’t believe I overlooked this all day today, and it’s all coming to catch up with me now. I walk around the perimeter of the adjacent living room, close the curtains on the huge bay window, and double check all the locks on the windows. Then I pace back to the kitchen and suck back a deep breath, which does nothing to loosen what feels like a vice grip on my lungs. “Let’s, ah, sit down.” I nod back toward the sofa in the living room. “Can I get you a water or anything?”

It’s not even the thought of the stalker that is making me this paranoid, but my anxiety is ramping up with each second. The more I try to slow my breath, the more it ticks up.

“Nah, I’m good for now.” She pads forward soundlessly, while I steady myself with one hand on the counter and open the fridge door with the other to grab a chilled bottle of water. I open it and down about half of it in one pull, but my chest cinches tight. When I join her on the sofa, I plop down, a full sweat on my brow. My ears are hyper-attuned to every creak in the floor, and I’m imagining all that could go wrong.

“Are you okay?” Paisley drops her hand to my leg, and I take it in my hand and give it a squeeze.

“I’m a little concerned. Maybe we should call the hotel to see if they know the name of the person who dropped off the camera?” I’m already reaching in my pocket for my phone as I can’t believe I haven’t thought of this sooner, but it’s the perfect solution.

“I already called.” Her eyes are wide, bringing a warning.

“And?”

“Ah, they didn’t know a thing about the camera. They said it never turned up.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?” My spine straightens, pinging each vertebra with a little hammer to prick at all my nerves. I don’t even know how it’s possible, but my chest cinches even more. “It has to be someone from the maintenance crew or maybe the DJ service. Do you know who cleans that place?”

“I was there for less than an hour. I don’t know anything.” She shakes her head, and her gaze seems to dance over my face before her voice drops. “I’m sorry to worry you. Maybe I should call my dad? I don’t want you to think you have to stress out about this.”

The last thing I need is her dad coming over here, and Bill finding him. “Nah, it’s fine.” I slice my hand through my hair and run it along the back of my neck, but it does nothing to calm me. My mind seems to have a block on it, as I can’t focus on anything except for my heart pounding so hard against my chest. “Say.” I stand, doing my best to sound calm. “I’m going to run upstairs to look for something.”

“Okay.” Her expression is neutral, but I feel her gaze follow me out the door. As soon as I’m out of sight, I sprint up the stairs two by two and scurry into the bathroom. I pull out a drawer and dig my hand way to the back, searching for meds. Maybe my mom found them and put them in here.

Nothing.

Sweat dots my forehead, and I open the medicine cabinet. Nothing but over-the-counter cold medicine and lots of mismatched sports wraps.

I grab my chest as I leave the bathroom. The walls seem to wave, and my breathing is hard, but I cross the hallway in a hurry and head toward my mom and Bill’s room. It’s super cringe to go in here, but it’s the only place I haven’t looked. With Puck up to his games, I don’t doubt he could have stashed them somewhere.

My gaze traces the dressers and the door to the walk-in closet. I hate to snoop in their private stuff, but if I know Puck, he more than likely stuffed it in a corner or behind a nightstand. I’m careful not to touch anything as I peek behind the door, but there’s nothing but the usual jam. I pace forward with my gaze set on the four-poster bed, and I drop to the floor and squint, a pile of disorganized stuff coming into focus. I reach my hand under and pull out a beanie.

Palmer City Voltage?

That’s totally sus.

Bill would never allow this in his house. He hates the Voltage.

My eyebrow quirks.

Or does he?

I’ve often suspected his hate was more of a front for jealousy. I reach my hand under again and pull out a Voltage jersey. Now, I crack a smile as this isn’t an accident. He clearly has a secret love for them. I push my hand under another time, and my fingers meet something I instantly recognize to be mine.

I almost shout with joy when I pull out my meds and hold them to my chest, as if the proximity to my heart has the power to slow my pounding heartbeat. I’m already standing up when I whip around to get out of here and wham!

I crash into Bill.

“Excuse me.” I fumble, holding my pills up. “I’ve been missing these for days, and I knew Puck hid them.” I kick the beanie, doing my best to push it back under the bed without him seeing I found out his secret. “I didn’t see anything else.”

His gaze angles down in a wide sweep, his nerves evident by his brow pinned together as he checks his side of the bed. Thankfully, it’s clear. The air is thick as I slide my feet toward the door, hurrying along.

“We missed you at the banquet.” Bill’s tone is neutral.

“Ah, sorry. I wasn’t feeling well.” I hold my pills up again, thankful to have tangible proof to show him. “I haven’t had any meds in days. Everything caught up to me.”

“I saw Paisley downstairs.”

“Yeah, I invited her to hang out.”

“I’m about ready to turn in for the night and watch the news.” He nods toward his bed, a kind smile on his face. “I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks.” My fingers tighten around the bottle. This time my feet don’t stop until I get to the bathroom. I fill a large cup of water and swallow my pill. Relief washes over me as I know I dodged a panic attack. I turn the faucet on, letting it run for a minute before I lower my face over the sink basin and splash cold water on it.

I’m already feeling better when I emerge from the bathroom to return to Paisley. Hopefully, my mind clears up, and I can figure out how to help her.