Page 115 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
Brent groans softly. “Jesus Christ.”
“You knew what you signed up for.”
“Unfortunately.”
I end the call and stand there for another minute trying to get myself under control.
Protect. Control. Contain.
Every instinct inside me is screaming.
This isn’t just hockey gossip anymore.
It's Peyton.
And the idea of strangers digging into her life makes something ugly twist inside my chest.
The back door slides open softly behind me.
I turn to find Peyton standing there wearing one of my sweatshirts, sleep still lingering in her eyes.
My chest tightens.
This is so damn dangerous.
“Everything okay?” she asks softly.
No. Not even remotely.
But I nod anyway. “My agent, Brent, called.”
Her expression shifts. “Uh-oh.”
I huff out the closest thing to a laugh I can manage. “Apparently, we’ve become entertainment for the entire hockey world.”
Peyton winces slightly. “Sorry.”
The apology pisses me off.
I step closer before I can stop myself. “None of this is your fault.”
Her eyes search mine carefully. “Then why do you look like you want to fight someone?”
Because I do.
Instead, I drag a hand through my hair. “Brent scheduled a Zoom thing later. Trying to calm the media down before training camp.”
Her brows lift. “A press conference?”
“Basically.”
“You hate press.”
“I hate people.”
That gets a small smile out of her.
Worth it.
