Page 13

thirteen

Noah

I take deep noisy inhalations as soon as she slams my car door.

I’m not a jerk.

I’m also not okay with letting Paisley stay by herself tonight, but the bigger truth is I’m not okay myself.

My meds haven’t kicked in, and I can't let her see that my anxiety is soaring so much that my body is breaking down. Measured breathing usually is enough to get me back to baseline, but it does nothing. I close my eyes to start my visualization exercises. There’s no way I could be this weird in front of her. Light flickers, and my curiosity piques enough for me to open one eye. Her taillights speed out of the parking lot, taking a north turn back toward the interstate.

She can’t drive to Long Island tonight.

I shake my head, hating that I can’t function. I thought she'd go back to her rental. That's too far to drive, and she still doesn't know if she's safe. I roll my lips in, hoping she at least calls her dad back to let her know she's on her way. She's a grown woman, though, and it’s probably best she be near family.

I speed back to my house, making it back in record time. I hurry through the door and step over Puck, who’s oddly passed out on his side with his nose buried into the blanket that covers his plush dog bed.

It’s back to my bathroom for another dose of my meds. It hadn’t dawned on me before that I might need a loading phase for the first couple of days since I had weaned off of them. With a quick flick of my wrist, I snap the light on, and my eyes jolt open wide.

The bottle is not on the counter where I had left it.

Not again.

I shake my head vigorously. The source of my anxiety might very well be living with a kleptomaniac bulldog. I quickly check the medicine cabinet to be sure. When that turns up empty, I don’t waste time barreling back down the hall to wake up the culprit.

No wonder he was so tired that he never woke up. With the way he’s been wearing me out with all these games, he must be exhausted. I scramble past Bill’s closed bedroom door, pausing only in my mind to rule that out. I already searched in there once. I doubt Puck would reuse the same hiding spot.

I make it to the kitchen with my hand on my chest and grumble in a loud voice with every intention of waking up that dog, “Puck, where are my pills?”

His body shivers as he rolls to an upright position and snaps his gaze on me, fake sneezing in annoyance.

“That’s right,” I growl, advancing toward him, ready to show this fifty-pound mutt who is boss. “I know you have my bottle again, and it’s not funny.”

Another fake sneeze but this one is laced with anger.

“I’m not letting you sleep.” I drop to my hands and knees, getting down on his level, and push my face up to his. In desperation, begging is not out of the question. “You need to show me where you put my pills.” I blink, realizing if anyone saw me face off with a dog like this, I would be laughed at.

His large brown eyes lock on me, and I know he understands exactly what I’m saying. “Show me,” I urge, sitting back on my heels as I ready myself to follow him. His lips spread wide into that rascal smile he gets when he’s loving the attention. He darts down the hall, straight toward Bill’s closed office door, stopping in front of it to scratch at it with his paw.

“You think you’re so sneaky.” My voice is already calmer now that he’s cooperating with me. I pad down the hall as quietly as I can and slip my hand onto the doorknob. It’s unlocked and the door easily pushes open. I’ve only ever been here a handful of times, as this is another place that feels off-limits, but I’m desperate and Bill’s asleep anyway.

I don’t hesitate to do what I need to, and I stand back, allowing Puck to go inside. He waddles to the middle of the room and turns around, eyes hooking on me while his tail wags. I'm so over stalling, and I lower my voice to command, “Show me.”

He goes right to the corner, a small space between the black leather couch and the wall. There’s enough room for him to wiggle his round body inside, and it instantly makes sense. It’s almost funny how he finds these spots that are so perfect for him. If I wasn’t so out of breath, I might actually laugh. He crawls back out, his paws leading the way. His jaw is clenched tight with something, and I’m prepared to breathe a giant sigh of relief. But instead, my heart plummets.

It’s not what I was expecting him to pull out . . .

It’s an envelope, more than likely some junk mail he stole from the trash, and I drop to my knees, resisting the urge to cry. I just can’t beg anymore. “Puck, what else do you have?” I push past him and shove my arm into the crack. Sure enough, there’s my bottle. My gaze flashes to the heavens. I’m so thankful that I vow to never leave them unlocked again. It’s just not worth it.

I scramble to my feet, ready to jet back upstairs to take my pill and salvage any sleep I can get tonight, but Puck stands there and growls at me, the envelope still in his jaw.

“What is it now?” I reach down, not expecting him to give it to me, but he walks right over and drops it at my feet. I don’t want Bill to suspect I’m rummaging in his office, so I pick up the envelope with every intention of putting it back, but pictures spill out . . .

Granite Ice hockey photos.

I raise one eyebrow as my eyes shift side to side before they drop back down and browse the photos. Goosebumps dot my spine. When my gaze lands on a random memory card, I solve this riddle.

Well, well, well . . . what do I have here?

My lips roll in, as I can’t believe I hadn’t suspected him earlier. Of course, Bill would remain silent about what he saw, and he doesn’t deal with problems in any normal rational way. It makes so much sense that he’d be passive aggressive about this.

“Good boy, Puck,” I say, my tone soothing over the tension we had between us. I pat his head and his little body wiggles all over. “You found Paisley’s stalk—”

“What’s all the commotion down here?” Bill stands in the open doorway, wearing a long-striped nightshirt that hangs just below his knees, leaving his hairy legs exposed. It’s a vision no one should ever have of their boss. I quickly cut my gaze to his face. One of his eyes is sleepily narrower than the other, but they are both firmly planted on me.

Standing up straight up again with the photos still in hand, I present my bottle as evidence. “Puck stole my anxiety pills again. He showed me where he put them, right here in your office.” I’m about to slide my foot toward the door and avoid this drama, but everything in me says Bill needs to be called out. I slide my other hand in front of him, flashing the envelope. “Did you lose something?”

Both his eyes spring wide open as his gaze drifts from Puck to me back to his desk. With a stutter on his tongue, he musters, “I-I didn’t think I did.”

“I found them in the crack between the sofa and the wall. I’m assuming Puck put them there, but how did you get them?”

One of his brows hike into a contemplative angle, tipping me off that he might be making this up, but I listen. “I found it,” he asserts with a curt nod.

“Obviously.” I throw my hand out in an impatient gesture. “Where was it?”

“At the gala.” His head bobs south, in the direction of the hotel. “Look, she’s not who you think she is. She’s Blake's daughter, and she was here on some spy mission.”

“Not a spy mission.” I roll my eyes at Bill’s dramatics. “It was her job.” My gaze dips to the floor for a moment before I continue. “Paisley confessed to me that she tried to write a hit piece, but she changed her mind. How did you know about any of this?”

“It was too odd how she called me and asked to come study the team.” He shakes his head, a smirk growing on his face. “I’m not as dumb as you young kids think I am. I’m not going to let just anyone interview my team. I did some background checks on her and quickly uncovered who she was related to.”

“You knew who she was this whole time?” Disbelief settles in my gut. “Why did you let her come?”

One of his shoulders raises and lowers in an uncommonly slow shrug. “I figured she’d write the article if I said yes or not. If I welcomed her to work with us, I could at least keep an eye on her. It didn’t take me long to see she wasn’t interested in showing the team's good side. She refused to take the shots I asked her to take, but she was always right there with that camera in front of her face whenever one of you got in trouble. At the gala, I was watching her, and I saw her fall. Everything happened so fast. When you pulled her out, I noticed her camera was still on the ground, and I grabbed it.”

“And you just couldn’t resist looking at it?” I say, seeing that Bill had been in control this whole time.

“I held onto the photos as insurance in case she would need some motivation and redirection. ” His head tips to one side, and he tacks on, “Of course, I didn’t expect you to spend so much time with her. After I found out you were taking her out for a Valentine’s weekend, I figured I better stop it somehow. I tried to drop some hints for you to find out her last name or what hockey teams she likes, but you seemed oblivious. I knew you wouldn’t believe me, so I wanted to do something to get her to confess to you.”

“Aren’t you a Sherlock.” My tone is steeped in awe as I can’t believe I missed his schemes this whole time. There was no dangerous stalker. It was just Bill being Bill.

“I don’t know about that.” Bill reaches down and scoops up Puck, stroking his back. “I think Puck’s pretty good at sneaking around, setting up this whole scheme to get you in here.”

Bill and I both pin our gazes on Puck. “You think he did that on purpose? He’s just a dog.”

“He may be a dog, but he sees exactly what we are all up to, and he knew exactly what to do to bring it to light. He’s clearly super intelligent.” Bill chuckles, a full smile filling his lips as he adds through his chuckle, “He gets that from me.”