Page 186 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“And why not?” Lennox prompts.

“It hasn’t been the right time.”

“In two-plus weeks’ time, you haven’t found a measly moment to corner him and ask if he’s happy with his representation?” Chase asks.

“Look, I’m here because you guys feel like he’s a ticking timebomb you want me to manage. I have to use caution. His game is stellar, but he’s a disaster off the ice, so I’m trying to be the one to be there to fix his fuck-ups right now. He’s burned out, and I’m trying to help him see that. Trying to help him see what he fell in love with again.”

There’s a snort in the conference room and they all glance to Brexton, and I can only imagine what she said.

I clear my throat and continue. “I’m trying to show him I’m the one there when Sanderson’s not or is too busy with his other clients. I’m trying to make it be me who Hunter calls when he needs something. When he needs someone to understand him,” I say, knowing it’s so much more than that. To them, this is our career and business, but to me, it’s wanting to see him get over this. “I’m at the games with the praise, but it’s the off of the ice part that will win him to my side.”

“Smart. Let him get comfortable—umm . . . more comfortable with you,” Chase says.

“Knock it off, you guys. Hunter and I happened over three years ago. We’re both mature adults who’ve moved on,” I lie.

“I hear Sanderson was there,” my dad says before a fight can start.

“He was.” I nod. “His warning was delivered and ignored.” Their chuckles fill the room.

“And you?” my dad asks. “How are you holding up?”

How do I answer that with the four people who know me best? How do I mask my expression so they don’t see I’m kind of a mess this morning, torn by emotions I can’t even name myself?

Because now that he’s asked, it’s ten times harder to pretend it’s not there.

Now that he’s brought it up, all I want to do is crawl into his arms and get a fatherly hug that tells me it’s going to all work out in the end.

“I’m good. Fine,” I reiterate. “My goal is to get Hunter alone this week between the next set of games and pitch our case.”

“Rumor is Finn’s not happy with him,” Lennox says.

“Rumor is a lot of people aren’t.” I pull my hair up in a clip, suddenly more aware than ever what I probably look like to them. “And I intend to exploit that to my advantage.”

My father nods, his hands steepled in front of him, and lips pursed. “He’s our in to Sanderson, Dekk. He’s the influencer or whatever term you young kids use these days. He’s the one who sets the bar. Get him over and it’ll be easier to pull more hockey players who want to be him.” He leans back in his chair and, as he looks me directly in the eyes, I feel both his challenge and confidence in me. “I know you can do it.”

Dekker

“This seat taken?” I ask when I spot Hunter in the hotel lobby Starbucks.

He barely glances up from his iPad as he stands abruptly. “Now, it is. Have at it.”

Ridiculously, I think he’s standing to pull out my chair. Instead, he starts to walk away.

“Hey,” I say after him, surprised and dumbfounded by his reaction. “Hunter.”

“What?” he snaps as he looks back at me.

“I’ve texted and you haven’t answered. I thought maybe we could talk, you know—about—”

“About what? Our mistake?” He scrunches his nose up and my insides twist at that stupid phrase. “No thanks. I’m sure Callum or another one of the guys will be along shortly, and I don’t want to fuck up your reputation with them because you slummed it with me.”

“Jesus Christ. Are you kidding me?” I stare at him dumbfounded, hands out, head shaking.

“Nope. I’m not kidding in the least.” He takes a step toward me and lowers his voice. “You wanted sex, you got sex. You want to take the temperature on a new client, then put your damn toes in the water. Sleeping with him and bolting for old time’s sake is a dick move.”

His words sting and hurt and I stare after him, blinking. There’s obviously so much I don’t understand about last night.

I walked away trying to protect my heart.