Page 121 of Edging Coach
When I awoke—very groggy—he was gone.
He’d also removed all the bottles of root beer.
I smiled at his text of fifteen emojis—includingsome very rude ones. He didn’t always have the right words—but he always had a heart of gold.
And as I stepped onto the ice in Toronto—to some boos and jeers—I spotted him in the audience.
He blew me a kiss.
Of course.
And I scored not one, but two points that night.
Some in the crowd definitely cheered.
I was, after all, the hometown boy.
As the team flew to Dallas, I tried not to think about how I hadn’t responded to Jack’s three-in-a-row texts all those weeks ago.
And when Wheels, our captain, handed me his phone in the dressing room that night—and my world bottomed out—I tried not to think about how I just wanted to be standing next to Jack, on the Pacific Ocean and watching the whales.
CHAPTER 35
JACK
A Boyfriend for Vancouver’s Rookie Defenseman?
The headline sent my heart to the floor so fast, I was amazed there wasn’t an audiblesplat. Fuck. Seriously?
My mind tried to rationalize that the headline might not have been referring to Devon at all. There were six defensemen on the team, after all. Except only two were rookies, and the other was very married with a baby on the way. If the latter had been the subject of the article, it would’ve been a much more salacious headline involving adultery, cheating, and heartbreak.
And anyway, there was a photo beneath the headline.
A photo of Devon and another guy—one much closer to his age than me—outside in the dark behind what I thought was Toronto’s arena. They were standing close and talking. Then in the next photo, they were exchanging a hug, and with the grainy photo, the low lighting, and the weird angle, it was hard to tell if it wasjusta hug. Especially when Devon was holding the other guy that tight.
Against my will, my mind went back to Devon with me in another parking lot. Behind our hotel in Abbotsford withfogged up windows and a whole lot of promises. Lucky for us, no photos had landed online and no rumors had made the rounds. That I knew of, anyway. I shivered.
But there were photos and rumors making the rounds now.
Jarvis did not return requests for comment.
My stomach tied itself into acidic knots. Fuck. I’d seen that line in articles about myself. From reporters that had never contacted me, my ex-husband, my agent, or my team. Sometimes reporters said it and meant it. Other times—too many times, in my experience—it was a way of publishing rumors without verifying them and thenactinglike theytriedto do their due diligence.
I chewed my lip. Maybe Devon was having a laugh at this. More likely, he was embarrassed. Humiliated. Whether he and that guy—that fucking lucky guy—were a thing or not, it was never comfortable having your personal business splattered all over the headlines. Ask me how I knew.
I wanted to make sure he was okay. Deep down, I felt like he wasn’t. How could he be? He’d only even been playing on that stage for a matter of weeks; he probably still had a spike of panic when he realized reporters were discussing him at all.
He hadn’t contacted me in weeks, though. Not since I texted him to let him know I was resigning at the end of the season. Not since I tipped my hand far enough to let him know I wanted more than sex with him.
Message received.
But I still cared about him. Would it be overstepping to check on him? Just… make sure he was okay?
God, I hoped not, because I was already typing out a message.
I saw the article. Are you okay?
By the time I left my office to join my team for our home game, I still hadn’t received a response.
