Page 101 of Hot Shot
“How about I walk you out?”
“Okay.” I follow him out of his office and through the arena. “Thanks,” I mumble when we reach my car.
“If you need anything. Anything at all, Madison. You know where to find me. Hunter will come around.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns to leave.
“Wait.” I call after him and he turns back to me. “Did you know about Hunter and me?”
“I did. I saw the way he greeted you at the game earlier in the season. Couldn’t take his eyes off you during warm-ups. Plus, hockey players are not the greatest at keeping their voices down, and they forget my office is in the locker room. I know far more about some of them than I probably want to know, but yes, I heard your name and Hunter’s thrown around together. I suppose it could have been a different Madison, except I saw you two sneak away at the barbecue.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?”
“He’s one of your players and I’m your daughter.” I know I’m stating the obvious, but this reaction is not at all what I expected.
“Hunter’s a great guy. Focused. Driven. Calm. Smart. Dedicated. I couldn’t have picked a better guy for you.” He smiles and nods before turning away. “Night Madison,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Night. Dad.”
Chapter thirty-seven
Madison
It’sbeentendayssince the story broke that the head coach of the Orlando Storm has a daughter who is dating one of his players.
Ten days since I’ve seen or talked to Hunter because the team have been gone on a week-long road trip.
I’ve been watching the games, and there’s something off with him. Someone else probably wouldn’t notice but I see it. It’s the little things. He’s missing easy passes, hesitating before taking shots. It’s all my fault. I’m the cause of his lackluster playing.
My dad has texted twice to tell me that everything worked out. The general manager wasn’t concerned that we were dating.
Dad even sent me the statement the Storm released. I’m thrilled that at least the article didn’t cause any negative repercussions for Hunter’s career. At least not yet.
He still hasn’t gotten a new contract, that I know of, and we’re already deep into January.
I peek through the curtains of Judy’s front window and see that they’re still out there—the reporters. Their numbers have been dwindling every day since the morning the story broke. Today there are only two.
Aunt Judy and Curtis will be home from their cruise tomorrow, and I’m really hoping that they’ll all be gone by then.
My phone rings and I startle. I see it’s Rachel and hit ignore. I feel bad. But I’m not in the mood to talk to her. I’ll text her later.
I spoke to her the morning after the story came out to give her a heads-up in case any reporters reached out to her for comment.
She came over the second night with wine and ice cream. We stayed up late talking. It was nice, but when she offered to come over the next night, I turned her down. She’s got a business to run, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize anyone else’s career.
My phone rings again and I sigh. Doesn’t she get the hint? But when I see that it’s EJ, I decide it’s now or never.
“Yeah?” I bite out, not bothering to hide my anger.
“Hi, Mads.” His voice is soft, and I cringe at the nickname.
“What do you want, Elliot? Haven’t you done enough damage?”
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Madison.”
My pulse pounds in my ears, and I want to scream. Instead, I take a deep breath and say, “If you can’t have me, no one can have me. Right?”
“He’s not good enough for you.”
