Dream Girl Drama (Big Shots #3)

Chapter Twelve

Chloe felt an ominous gurgle in her stomach.

Something had simply been... off since she walked into Sig’s apartment. For one, it was nothing like she’d expected. Much smaller than the luxury condo she’d pictured him returning to every night. Just like his truck, the furniture appeared to be well loved, but verging on ancient. Touches of him were everywhere, from a stack of professional athlete autobiographies to the handheld vacuum charging on the counter.

For all his flash and speed on the ice, Sig had an old soul. He liked knowing facts, craved tidiness. Even his hockey sticks were leaned against the wall at perfect ninety-degree angles.

On the television? The Home Shopping Network.

And she wanted to ask him about that. Why he would be watching Laurie Woodruff peddle Victorian-style watches when he usually chuckled and rolled his eyes at Chloe’s constant viewing of the twenty-four-hour shopping network. But then she saw the pile of merchandise sitting in neat piles on his kitchen table and the sight stole all her focus. An invisible finger of dread traced down the nape of her neck as she cataloged everything she was seeing.

An open laptop with a spreadsheet on the screen.

Boxes, tape, scissors. A weighing scale.

At least eight packed boxes, ready to ship in the corner.

Signed pucks, jerseys, rolled-up posters, helmets. A broken stick.

“Where are you sending all these memorabilia?” she prompted again, looking at him, her nerves tingling when she couldn’t get a read. “It looks like you’re selling it.”

Sig’s face was carved in stone. “It does look like that, doesn’t it?”

Several beats passed. “Are you?”

Slowly, he drained the rest of his beer. “I can feel myself wanting to lie to you, Chloe—and I don’t do that. So I’m just going to ask you to drop it.”

“The only reason people sell things is to make money. But you...” She studied him closely. The line ready to snap in his cheek. The sudden lack of color in his face. “You have money, right? You’re paying my rent, you bring me groceries.” Her stomach was beginning to feel hollow. “You complain about my Sephora habit, but you totally enable me, too, sending me links to sales. I mean, you... you’re a professional hockey player. I don’t understand.”

His jaw flexed. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“No.”

It almost scared her how winded he looked. “Come here.” He took her by the wrist, guiding her into the living room where he sat her down on the couch, her numb legs giving out beneath her just in time for her butt to hit the cushions. Sig took a spot directly in front of her on the edge of his coffee table, hands clasped between his knees. Head bowed. “Chloe, this is hard for me.”

That woke her up. Sure, sometimes Sig suffered professional ups and downs, the occasional crisis of confidence that came from being an athlete, but he wasn’t a person who hesitated. He was decisive. Always knew the answer. Right now, he lacked his usual strength and that meant he needed her. It would be a cold day in hell before she let him down after everything he’d done on her behalf. “Do you need help burying a body, because we can probably borrow a shovel from my landlord. He has some snitch tendencies, but we’ll find a way to keep him quiet. Bottom line, I’m with you, okay? Whatever it is, I’m with you.”

He huffed a disbelieving sound, but the affection in his eyes made it temporarily impossible to breathe. “Congratulations, Chlo. You’re officially a Bostonian.”

Her lips stretched into a smile. “Tell me anything right now and watch me stick.”

“Yeah, I’m getting there.” He raked the smirk off his face with a heavy hand. Paused. “I was a third-round draft pick. I’d injured my knee midway through last AHL season and... suddenly nothing I’d done before that mattered, you know? Championship titles, awards, out the window. I was just a liability. At the time, I was lucky to be fucking drafted at all, and while my contract was modest...” He wouldn’t look at her. “It was more money than I’d ever had in my life. Enough to buy my mother a house—and she deserved it after what she sacrificed for me. I bought this place, too, and I’ve been comfortable. With the end of my contract coming up—”

“You’ve been comfortable... until me,” Chloe said, a jolt racing down to her toes. “ I’m the reason you’re selling memorabilia.”

All her life, she’d been kept inside of a bubble. That had never been more obvious than it was in this moment. This was also the moment it burst.

“I’m not hurting for money, Chloe, I just...” His throat worked. “The past has taught me to save for a rainy day. The Bearcats haven’t offered me a new contract yet and I can’t stand the fucking thought of you wanting for anything. I can’t stand it. I told you I would support you and that’s what I’m going to do.”

She was shaking her head vigorously. “No. My apartment is nicer than yours.”

“I don’t need nice. I need you to have nice.”

“Sig.” Her temples were pounding. “Oh my God. You... no. You don’t have time for a side hustle. You’ve been running this whole operation? Selling signed pucks to support three people while I was blowing my rent money on eye cream?” She pressed both hands to her stomach. “I’m going to be sick.”

Sig’s chest was beginning to heave up and down. “It’s a privilege to do this for you, Chloe. Don’t take it away from me.”

“But I’m not really independent at all, am I? I was blind to believe I was. This...” She swept a hand toward the kitchen table. “This is what it really takes to earn what you’re giving me and I had no part in it.”

Chloe stood up on jelly legs.

Sig quickly followed suit, taking her by the elbows.

“You’ll contribute eventually. Right now, you’re focused on training. That was the deal. And don’t minimize all the ways you’ve learned to be on your own. Don’t do that.”

Chloe acknowledged that statement with a dull nod, but she wasn’t able to accept the affirmation. Not now when her reality was altering itself. Not when she was seeing every moment of the last months through a new lens. “And then I have the nerve to tell Grace I’ll think about her mentoring me, potentially taking on first chair. That would pay... a lot, probably. Enough that I’d be able to support myself and take pressure off you. And I said I would think about it. Oh my God, I am so oblivious .”

“Stop being hard on yourself. You’ve never had to think about money.”

“Well, I’m thinking about it now. I’m not letting you do this anymore.”

“Let me?” Roughly, he hauled her body up against his, his lips close enough to hers that she could taste the beer on his breath. “Chloe, I would sell my fucking soul for you and smile while I signed on the dotted line.”

“But you don’t have to,” she whispered, sliding her fingers into his hair, nails dragging along his scalp. “You can keep your soul and have me, too.” Determination spread inside of Chloe, warming her blood, firming her bones. She’d never had this much purpose in her entire life—and wow, it felt good. Really good. Necessary. “I’m going to work my butt off and I’m going to earn first chair. I’m going to really earn it. I’m going to do it.”

Unmistakable pride moved in his expression. “You can do anything. Especially this.” He traced her cheekbone with an arc of his thumb. “But you do it for you. Not me. Not because I had to sell some shit to keep us healthy until my next contract. Do it because you want it.”

Knowing he was right, that landing a spot with BSO had to be for herself and no one else, Chloe took a moment to think, to explore her intentions and found that, yes, becoming a better harpist would satisfy her long-held worry that she’d coasted by on natural talent. Or worse, that she’d wasted a gift that gave her so much joy. Time to be sure. Time to find out what she was truly capable of.

“I’ll do it for me,” she said, looking him in the eye.

“Good.”

“And you’ll get a contract renewal for yourself. A big one—or else the Bearcats front office don’t know how lucky they are. Third round? ” Anger speared upward from her stomach into her throat, so fiercely she had to grab him by the collar of his T-shirt. “How dare they take this long to make up for that oversight? I’d like to kick down the GM’s door and shove my foot up his ass. Three times. Once for each round they ignored your talent. You’re only the best player in the league . Tell me one other player who—”

“You really meant it, didn’t you?” His expression was an odd mixture of humility and adoration. “You’re with me. No exceptions.”

Chloe frowned at him. “I told you. I’ll get the shovel.”

He stared down at her. “Whatever you think I’ve done for you by bringing you to Boston, I want you to know you’ve done the same for me. I’ve never been the best, I’ve always been the assist guy. I have the speed to create openings in the defense. But I believe I’m the best when you say it. I believe that when I look at you.”

“Good.” She threw her arms around his neck, letting out a watery laugh into his shoulder. “It’s true.”

He lifted Chloe onto her toes and crushed her close. “I thought you finding this out would change everything.”

“No.”

“So all that bullshit about seeing other people...”

She pulled away wiping her eyes, mustering a sweet as honey smile. “No, that still stands. I meant that.”

His eyeballs came close to popping out of his head. “ What? ”

If anything, she was now more determined than ever to have clear boundaries in her life. Look what had been going on behind the scenes without her knowledge! Going forward, she was going to have her eyes wide open. Goals would be reached, professionally and personally—and as much as it hurt, she couldn’t continue to wallow in a romantic gray area with Sig. It only caused hurt and confusion... and in two months, it would lead to full heartbreak. Today was the day to make big moves. Big, necessary moves.

Even if she really wanted to be kissed and stroked and told more wonderful things by this man she loved more than breathing. More than the harp and every color in the rainbow.

“I really need to go, Sig,” she forced herself to say. “I need to buy kibble for Pierre before the deli closes.” Many things were occurring to her at once. “And I can’t wait to call Grace and let her know I’m ready to lock in. You know, it’s crazy! Now that I’ve made the decision to reach for the top, I’m excited. Not nearly as nervous as I thought I would be.”

“Great. But Chloe. You’re not dating. Period.”

“You’re right, I probably won’t have a lot of time, now that I’ll be practicing so hard. But you never know, Sig. You never know.”

He boomed a humorless laugh. “You really want some poor chump to die, don’t you?”

She admonished him with a frown. “Don’t be violent in front of Pierre.”

It was obvious from his double take that he’d forgotten about the dog who was currently napping in front of the door. “While we’re on the subject, what time are you planning to walk Pierre in the morning? Not before sunrise. Right, Chloe?”

“Grace said he’ll need to be walked at five thirty a.m.”

“Oh, okay.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sure.”

She mimicked his flippant body language. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll see you at five thirty a.m.,” he growled. “Did you think I was going to let you walk around in the dark alone?”

“Sig?”

“Yes.”

“You seem irritated.”

He visibly gathered himself. “I’m not irritated with you. I’m irritated with every man in Boston for existing.”

She tried to appear nonchalant while something sharp was pulverizing her chest. “Well. If we hadn’t agreed to date other people—”

“Nah, we didn’t agree to that.”

“—If we hadn’t made that mature and necessary decision, I probably wouldn’t feel wonderful about every straight woman in Boston flipping open their newspaper and finding you under the word ‘eligible.’”

“They’re not going to see me on any list. I already squashed it.”

She mashed her lips together to keep from smiling. “Really?”

“Yup.”

Relief spread over the wound and she gave him her most grateful smile. “Thank you.”

His sigh was long and reluctantly tender. “You realize you make no sense, dream girl.”

She picked up Pierre’s leash and backed toward the door. “I’ll try harder.”

“Don’t you dare change a thing about yourself.”

They smiled at each other across the apartment for long moments that made her heart feel heavy and light and burdensome and lucky all at once. Sagging with love and turmoil. Maybe her heart had more than four chambers because how else could everything fit?

“Good night, Sig,” she murmured, grasping the doorknob to prevent herself from running to him. Leaping without looking. Begging again for him to relent.

To give her at least one night.

“Good night, Chloe,” he said, reaching up and snagging his hair in a fist at the crown of his head, obviously gripping tight to keep from lunging for her, too. Giving in. Giving them what they both needed so badly it burned. “See you in the morning.”

When Chloe left that night, she was resolved to try and move on.

Sig still had other ideas.