Page 2

Chapter Two

Chelsea

We barely said a word on the way to the stadium. Everyone was lost in their thoughts, staring out the window as Dusk Bay rolled past.

I was so deep in my head, I didn't realise we arrived until we stopped in front of the security gate. The attendant opened it and waved us through, her expression as grim as ours.

"Looks like it's true," Frost said softly from the front seat beside Storm.

"Yeah," Storm said. "Looks like." He reversed the SUV into a parking space and killed the engine.

In silence, we climbed out of the vehicle and closed the doors behind us with four distinct thumps.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I stood beside the SUV, my hand on the door handle. It might be better if I waited in the car.

"I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you in if you like," Storm suggested. He took a step towards me and lowered his shoulder as though he was about to do just that.

I held up my hands to ward him off. "I can walk. Nothing will raise eyebrows faster than you carrying me in there."

"In case you hadn't realised already, I don't give a shit about raising eyebrows," he said. But he straightened, grabbed my hand, tucked me to his side and headed towards the staff and players entrance.

"That's one thing we love about you," Frost said. "You give no shits. You go on being you and everyone else can get fucked."

Storm grunted. "That's me. No shits or fucks given. What you see is what you get."

Frost fell in on the other side of him and Dallas walked beside me, more or less surrounding me with a wall of muscle.

"Maybe we shouldn't hold hands," I said. "It might look like we're?—"

"Together," Storm finished for me. "We are. You finished your practical training. I'm over here giving no more shits about what people think about us having a relationship with you. I'm not going to act like there's anything wrong with it, because there isn't."

"As soon as they know we're together, they'll start digging into my past," I argued. I was tempted to pull my hand out of his, turn tail and run.

He held me tight, not letting me draw back. "We'll deal with it. Come on. We're right there anyway."

He was right, we were too close to the door for me to bolt now. A handful of players and staff lingered just inside, and outside, talking amongst themselves in low voices. Their expressions all matched ours. Sad, confused and occasionally angry.

Most barely gave us a glance as we stepped through the open door, into a wide reception area that led to a bank of elevators.

Jay and Ramsey stood near the wall, watching us with guarded expressions. They silently appraised my body, like they always did, but nothing in their expressions indicated Atlas told them I used to work at Flirts. Not yet, anyway.

Jay's gaze lingered on me before turning to Frost and becoming colder. He was clearly still angry Frost kissed Atlas. Atlas hadn't said much about Jay during our date, so I had no idea where they stood with each other.

As for Ramsey, he was always a mystery to me. Doctor Stuart completed his physical, so I was yet to have a conversation with him. As far as I could tell, he didn't do conversations with anyone. I only heard him say one or two words at a time.

Not everyone was as open and warm as Frost, I supposed.

"Hello," I greeted them both. I saw no reason not to try to be friendly.

Jay's gaze dipped to where my hand was in Storm's. He rolled his lips a couple of times before looking back up. "Morning."

It wasn't the friendliest greeting, but it wasn't unfriendly either. He seemed to be wondering what the hell I saw in someone like Storm Keller.

He nodded to Dallas. "Tex."

"Jay." Dallas nodded in return. "Goat. S'up?"

Ramsey shrugged. "Same shit."

This was the first time I'd heard anyone call Ramsey by his nickname. I wondered if he lived up to it. He looked like he knew how to ram. I dropped my gaze to his groin for a few moments before forcing it back up to his face.

"Yeah." Dallas nodded again.

They conveyed a lot without saying much. It was a man thing, I supposed.

"Have any of you seen Atlas?" Jay squinted at me, but he seemed concerned, not accusing.

"Not since last night," I said. "We saw a concert and then…went separate ways. You haven't heard from him?"

"Nope," was Jay's simple response.

"I haven't seen him since training yesterday," Storm said. "Have you seen him, Frosty?"

"I was with you," Frost reminded him. "I haven't seen him either."

"Me either," Dallas said.

"Have you asked Goat?" Storm nodded towards Ramsey.

"Yeah," Ramsey said.

"He hasn't seen him either," Jay supplied. "I guess he'll…turn up."

"Like a bad smell, you won't get rid of him that easily," Storm said.

His indifferent expression suggested he'd be happy if Atlas never showed up at all. Or better yet, showed up floating face first in the bay, or in some kind of shallow grave. If that happened, he wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

I wasn't so sure about that. What if Bruce's death had something to do with Atlas' absence? For all we knew, they could both be dead, killed by… I honestly couldn't begin to guess. Not unless one of the guys contacted my brother while I was asleep.

I glanced over at them, but was almost certain they hadn't done anything behind my back.

"He's not—" Jay shook his head. "Whatever. We should get to the team meeting."

"Coach Stanley likes to start on time," Frost said. "He'll be pissed off if we miss any of it." He seemed resigned, and in no hurry. As if maybe if we held off for a little while longer, it would turn out to be some kind of giant prank. One in very poor taste, but still better than the reality.

"Right," Storm agreed. He clasped my hand tighter before I could suggest I not attend the meeting. He really would throw me over his shoulder and carry me if I tried.

Honestly, I was curious what Coach Stanley had to say. And the rest of the team management. They all must be scrambling to keep the pieces of this puzzle together. I didn't envy them that task at a time like this. Between organising staff and dealing with the press, they'd have their hands full.

Of course, I was sad for Bruce and his family, but the timing couldn't have been worse. The team was days away from the first game of the season. Now was the time they needed everyone and everything in place, not up in the air like someone took a pack of cards and threw it into the bay.

Ramsey placed a hand on Jay's shoulder and they walked together, in front of us, to the meeting room.

Predictably, the place was packed with players and staff. They stood or sat in small groups, whispering and giving each other hugs. One of the older staff was handing out tissues to those who needed them. They might need another box or two before this day ended.

The only person who seemed to notice my presence was Doctor Stuart. He sat in a chair near the window, knees crossed. He looked weary, like he hadn't slept in a couple of days. He gave me a nod and a tight smile before turning his attention back to the front of the room.

I should have realised I could attend without ruffling feathers. No one was going to stop to check things like that today. Their minds were on more important things than me.

We shuffled to the back of the room and stood against the wall, where we could see and hear, but be out of the way.

"I hate these meetings," Frost muttered. "I always want to say inappropriate things so only the people around me can hear them. That would be a shitty thing to do today."

"Yeah, today is a good day to keep it shut," Dallas agreed. He glanced down at the tired carpet on the floor. "I hate these things because it's fucking sad."

"Yes, it is," I said softly. The mood in the room was starting to get to me. A couple of people off to the side had tears sliding down their faces. I recognised one as Bruce's personal assistant. This must have hit her especially hard. Not as hard as his family, of course, but working close with someone and then losing them was tragic. Especially when Bruce's replacement might decide to replace her too.

I could definitely relate to that kind of uncertainty. I hoped for her sake she'd have her position sorted quickly.

I caught movement in the corner of my eye. When I looked around, it was to see Atlas step into the room, followed closely by head coach Max Stanley.

Before he could catch my eye, I looked away, vaguely aware that he moved to the corner. If anyone was going to cause an uproar over my presence here, it would be him.

Hopefully, he'd keep his peace until this was over.

I suspected he would. He seemed all too aware of the negative impact of making a scene in public. No, he'd wait and make a scene in private.

"Thank you all for being here today," Coach started. His words put an immediate end to the quiet talking around the room. "By now, you all know about the passing of Bruce Fergus. His wife found him in the early hours of the morning. She called an ambulance, but they were…too late."

He coughed, choking back emotion, fist over his mouth. For a while, he was unable to continue. I didn't know much about the relationship between Bruce and Coach Stanley, but it seemed there was a healthy dose of respect there.

Finally, he cleared his throat and continued.

"Because of this tragic circumstance, we find ourselves in a difficult position. A new general manager will be appointed as quickly as possible. A number of open positions were due to be filled in the next day or so. For now, those will be handed over to whoever is in charge of that area of operations. As far as I'm concerned, we continue to do as we've always done. Work hard and play hard. Bruce would want us to give everything we have to the coming season. I suggest we do that in his honour. When we hold that premiership cup up at the end of the season, we'll know we did it for him."

A rumble went through the meeting room, a subdued agreement to do as he suggested.

"That doesn't sound like a team ready to give it a red hot go," Coach said. He raised his hands and gestured around the room.

The players erupted in a chorus of shouts, claps and whistles.

"We've got this," Frost shouted out. "We can do this for Bruce!"

"For Bruce!" someone echoed.

"For Bruce!" the whole room said in unison.

I actually caught Storm quickly wiping his eyes. I leaned into him and squeezed his hand.

"I'm not crying, you are," he told me.

I sniffed. "I'm only crying a little bit." I dabbed at my own eyes before catching Doctor Stuart looking at me again. One of his eyebrows rose. Did that mean what I thought it meant? If he was allowed to choose his staff, did he choose me?

I managed a faint, hopeful smile, which faded slightly when Atlas stepped into my line of sight.

He was also looking at Doctor Stuart, but rather than looking angry, he looked triumphant.