Page 44

THIRTY-TWO

Jolie

Dad

I assume everything is set for the Calgary game, or should I not assume that?

Me

Everything is set. Ads are running. Sponsorships are in place. Social media is updating on a constant rotation. Signage will be displayed in the locker room and at the press conference. I’ve got it handled, don’t worry.

Dad

I’ve heard that before.

What about the footage from the New Jersey game? Where are the highlights? Why hasn’t any of it been posted?

Me

The footage is being edited as we speak. Last I checked, it was almost done.

Dad

Last you checked? Why aren’t you doing it?

Me

I have two assistants who are more than capable of handling tasks like that.

Dad

This is your job.

Me

And I’m doing my job.

I pulled the spoon out of my mouth and chewed the chocolate chip pumpkin bread pudding—which Beck’s chef had made for dessert—topped with a massive scoop of caramel ice cream, and I glanced around his living room.

Although I hadn’t spent a ton of time here, it was starting to feel extra cozy whenever I came.

I turned my face toward him as he sat beside me on the couch, my legs resting over his lap. “It feels really good to be home.”

Shit, that was really only partially true.

The other half of me didn’t want to be in LA. I wanted to keep running from away game to away game, hiding from whatever fate was waiting for me.

We’d flown back this afternoon, and while we were on the plane, Beck asked me to drop my stuff at my apartment and meet him at his place to spend the night.

Which was a no-brainer.

But since I’d walked through his door, knowing I’d be returning to my office in the morning, my anxiety had me inhaling everything he put in front of me. First the salmon his chef had prepared. Now, this pumpkin whatever it was, along with the old-fashioned he’d made us as an after-dinner drink.

He spooned a mouthful from his dish and said, “I like that you’re calling my place home.” He rubbed the side of my thigh, stopping near my hip before he worked his way back down. “Could you see yourself moving in here?”

“Now?”

He shrugged. “The timing doesn’t matter—now, later, whenever. I’m just wondering if you would ever be comfortable enough to live here.”

An outsider, looking in, would probably think we were moving at warp speed. But in my mind, all those years of wanting him counted for time served.

I was positive he felt the same way.

“I could see myself moving in here tomorrow.” I licked off some ice cream from the tip of my spoon. “But I kinda think we should wait until my lease is up. Ginger is new to LA. I can’t abandon her—even though I did this evening and probably will tomorrow night.”

He put his dish on the table in front of the couch. “Only tomorrow night? How about for the next two weeks that we’re home until we hit the road again?”

“Well … we’ll see about that. When I get to the office tomorrow, I truly have no idea what I’ll be facing.”

“When are you and your dad scheduled to talk?” He set his hands on my knees.

“There’s nothing on the schedule. I just have this feeling in my gut that the talk is going to happen tomorrow.”

“Good. It’s time to get it over with.”

I nodded, the tightness moving its way into my chest, and each mouthful I fed it, it was getting worse, not better, so my bowl joined Beck’s on the table.

“I don’t like keeping this secret, Jolie.

I don’t like that the guys on the team are still making comments about how fucking hot you are.

I don’t like that tonight, instead of going to Charred or Toro, we’re eating here because we can’t be photographed together.

I want anyone and everyone to know you’re mine. ”

There was a boulder in the back of my throat, only allowing me to say softly, “I want that too.”

But …

Oh God, there were so many buts.

I just had a feeling that when it came to us, I was going to have to sacrifice something. A balance of sorts. And what that something was made me so anxious.

I needed a subject change, so I asked, “What time is practice tomorrow?”

“We have weight training at nine. That means we’ll probably hit the ice around eleven.

I’m sure we’ll have some meetings after.

Coach is going to want to talk about the Vancouver game since we haven’t yet.

” He put his hand behind my head, his hazel eyes focused on mine.

“What time do you plan on getting there?”

I drew in a big breath. “Probably really early. I’m sure my desk looks like a tornado hit it, and my email certainly needs some TLC, which will take me hours to get through.

I want to review the footage that was shot while we were away and see what we can use for promos.

Rather than being there all night, I prefer to just start before the sun rises. ”

His fingers spread out, covering almost half of my head. “Promise me something?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

“No matter what is said between you and your father, you’ll tell me the truth. You won’t hold anything back from me. And whatever happens, it’s not going to affect us.”

My stomach flipped, and I wished I hadn’t eaten all that food because now I was nauseous. “Those are some big promises, Beck.”

He rested his head on the back cushion. “How much do you care about me?”

The word love could easily slip through my lips. That was how much I cared.

But for some reason, “More than anything,” was what came out.

His hand moved to my chin. “Then promise.”

My eyes closed, the tears building and burning behind them as I whispered, “I promise.”

I couldn’t sleep.

There was absolutely nothing worse than tossing and turning in Beck’s bed, staring at walls, the ceiling, my mind a racecourse that never stopped circling, fearing that I was keeping him awake.

Instead of hoping I would at some point fall asleep and finally get some much-needed rest, I climbed out of bed at around five in the morning and quietly took a shower and got ready for work.

Before I left, I went over to his side of the bed and nuzzled my face in his neck, whispering, “I’ll see you at the arena.”

He reached his arm back since he was facing the opposite direction from where I was standing, and he put his hand on my cheek and groaned, “I’ll see you later.”

I kissed his fingers as I removed them from my face, and I let myself out of his house and drove to the arena. I gripped the strap of my bag as I headed inside, taking the elevator to the executive-level floor.

As I was walking down the hallway toward my office, nearing my father’s, which I had to pass on the way to mine, I heard, “Jolene, come in.”

I stilled from the sound of my father’s voice.

“And shut the door.”