Chapter 1
Chapter One
KEELEY
SIXTEEN MONTHS LATER
The dark clouds hover ominously over San Francisco Storm’s practice field, but no one pays them any mind.
Not the players crowding around their fearless leader, as he fills them in on the team’s upcoming fundraiser, or the spectators waiting outside, lining up for their chance to watch their favorite team in action.
Mondays are usually reserved for recovery and video review, but once a season, we open practice up for our fans and they never disappoint. There must have been thousands lined up when I arrived this morning, and that was hours before we were due to let them in.
Murmurs start up around the field when Sal pauses, but his deep voice cuts through the chatter, commanding attention as the players fall silent, all eyes in his direction, everyone hooked on his words.
Including me.
“On top of the open practice today, we have a huge week ahead of us, leading into the biggest game of the season. Not only is Chicago one of our toughest rivals this year, they’re also sitting pretty with an extra notch on their belt. But we’re a much sexier team.”
Laughter rings out and I subtly roll my eyes. Sal is the last person here that would ever make a record of his sexual encounters, but the guys seem to enjoy his humor.
“You all played like champions yesterday, and I’m going to need you to bring that A game again this weekend. We need to show them we’re the team walking away with a trophy this year.”
The respect he garners now, after so much uncertainty when he first arrived, is amazing to watch, and I’m in awe of the time and energy he’s invested into gaining everyone’s trust.
His eyes briefly flit to mine as he takes a quick breath, and I don’t miss the thanks reflected back at me.
Sal’s a confident man, and he knows how to keep a room quiet, but when it comes to matters dear to his heart, that confidence wavers.
This year, Storm’s raising money for Motor Neuron Disease, a matter that affects me more than it does him, with my mom suffering from ALS.
Sal and his daughter, Paige—one of my closest friends and future sister-in-law—run the D’Angelo Foundation that organizes the Storm events.
This year they suggested MND for their fundraising charity, and my family will forever be grateful for that.
Sal and my mom became friends after my brother, Easton, one of Storm’s players, started dating Sal’s daughter, Paige.
He cares just as much about my mom’s health as we do, and standing up there to talk about it just now hit him hard.
Not that anyone really noticed. He’s a pro when it comes to hiding his feelings.
I wink, and the smallest of smiles tugs at his lips before he continues on.
I’m not exactly sure when it happened, but sometime over the last almost year and a half, Sal became my confidant, and I, his.
We clicked from the very first meeting in his office, getting along like we’d been friends for years, despite the twenty-year difference in age between us, and along the way, it became more than that.
Our relationship blossomed into something much deeper, and now, I don’t know what I’d do without him.
Which is not exactly something I need to worry about considering Sal’s daughter is engaged to my grumpy-ass baby brother, and they’re raising my beautiful nephew together.
Not only do I see Sal every day at work, he also lives in the same building as Easton and my mom. Not to mention he pops up occasionally at our family functions, like my mom’s birthday and Christmas last year.
Despite all that, we’ve managed to keep our close friendship mostly to ourselves, convincing everyone we’re nothing more than colleagues. The only person I’ve told is my oldest friend, Callum. But since he lives in Scotland, he’s not about to give the game away.
In this chaotic and sometimes messed-up world, it’s been nice having this little secret between us. Something away from the headlines constantly surrounding our team, and away from our family and friends. Something just for us.
Here, he’s Salvatore D’Angelo, team owner and boss man, while I’m Keeley Reynolds, Storm media liaison, sometimes known as Easton’s sister.
And that’s the way I plan to keep it, for as long as we can get away with it.
Inside these walls we’re brief, courteous, and always professional, but once we’re alone, shoes come off, hair comes out of its tight hold—for me anyway—and we can both be ourselves, calming each other in this otherwise hectic world.
“Last,” Sal finishes up, and I wave to our security officer, signaling that it’s almost time to open the gates for the general public.
“Please send all your good vibes Coach Pierce’s way as he recovers from food poisoning, and be prepared to show him you care by proving you don’t actually need him in order to succeed. ”
Sal steps away from the mic and immediately joins my side, walking with me back to our offices. “How’d I do?” he asks when we’re away from the masses, raising an eyebrow.
“You nailed it.” I can’t help but laugh. “The perfect mix of dad humor and the famous Salvatore D’Angelo charm.”
“Dad humor and charm?” Sal draws his lips into a frown and my laughter increases.
“Yep.”
“I was going for serious but cool.”
“Oh. Well, you did that too. Good job.” I jokingly pat him on the back, and he scoffs under his breath.
“Keel-ley.”
“I’m kidding. It was perfect. The guys were all listening intently. Especially for your ‘we’re going to win’ speech. They’re as determined as you are. Can’t you feel the energy in the air? They want this. It’s going to be our year.”
“Fuck, I hope so.”
“I know so. We have Wes at the helm. Coach Pierce is happy, when he’s not sick. You might even be able to relax those shoulders a little after this weekend.”
Sal makes a show of lowering his shoulders, and I suck my lips into my mouth, suppressing my reaction. “You noticed?”
“I did.” I grin through a wince. “No one faults you for being stressed lately. There has been a lot going on. Especially with Zane. But he played incredibly last weekend, and he’s all smiles now that he has Blair in his life. Even if they won’t admit they’re together.”
“I’m not interested in my player’s love life, Keels. Just his well-being.”
“You’re a good guy, Sal. Better than most. Coach is ready to write him off because he keeps disappearing, and you’re worried about him.”
“Yeah, well, I hate that he’s still in limbo. Hell, the entire team is in limbo. It’s going to be a media circus if and when anything changes with Landon. No matter what happens.”
Landon. Fucking Landon. I don’t usually speak ill of anyone that can’t stand up for themselves, but I made an exception for our rookie last season, Landon McKenna.
He may be in a coma right now, and that in itself is devastating, but he pulled a knife on my friend Hayley and stabbed one of our players—her boyfriend, Reed—after stalking both of them for almost a year.
If it wasn’t for Zane’s heroics, God knows what else he would have done.
Now, Zane’s suffering because of it. He’s been hounded by the media and forced to face the dark truths of his past.
He doesn’t deserve it, and like Sal, I hate that it’s still affecting him months later, and likely to continue messing with him until something happens with Landon, one way or the other.
“I’m ready for whatever we have to face. Zane won’t have to deal with it alone. And you know I’ll make sure the team doesn’t suffer.”
“I have no doubt. Thanks, Keels. Do you need anything from me for the media meeting tomorrow?”
“Nope. I’m good. You’re free to take the rest of the day off.”
“How very kind of you.” Sal smirks and as always, it’s delicious.
“Someone has to tell you what to do. You’re far too powerful.”
“If I’m going to listen to anyone, it’s you. Only, I have a mountain of paperwork to get through and I want to catch the end of practice.”
“No rest for the wicked.”
“Never.” He winks. “Enjoy your day.”
“Thanks. You too.”
Headphones on, I’m listening to music that’s been specifically curated for deep concentration when a notification pops up on my screen, immediately pulling my attention from work.
Mom’s neurology appointment – 9 a.m.
My heart pounds in my chest as all my other priorities instantly drift away.
I set this notification months ago, after her last appointment, and pushed it from my mind.
Mom’s been doing well. She stutters occasionally, and has had a few falls over the past couple of months, but she’s happy and she’s living her life to the fullest.
This reminder is like a kick in the gut, because while she’s good now, no one can tell us how quickly her muscles will deteriorate. MND is so variable there’s no way to give it a timeline and it sucks.
I clear the notification and try to keep working, but it’s pointless. I am well and truly distracted, and I need something to take my mind off the real world. Something I haven’t done in a while.
After checking the time, I grab my yoga mat from the closet in my office and make a run for it, determined to get to the studio for the next class in seventeen minutes.
It’s been months since I took time out of my day to practice yoga. Hell, it’s been months since I took time out of my day for anything. I deserve the break, and yoga always helps get me out of my head. It’s one of the only things that ever works to help me escape. That and the beach.
With yoga, I can lose my mind to the moment. If they tell me I’m in a forest, I’m there. Poolside, I’ve got my sun hat on, ready to go.
It’s always helped me to completely unwind, and I don’t do it enough.
If I’m out for drinks with friends, I’m undoubtedly thinking of work. Watching a movie, thinking of work. Having sex, you bet your ass I’m thinking of work. Not that I’ve had sex in a while. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I orgasmed without my own fingers doing the work.
The point is, work takes priority, and even when I’m not there, it’s never far from my mind.
But yoga. That’s always been my thing.
I wonder if sex after a yoga session would?—
The elevator doors open in the underground parking lot and I move to rush out, jumping when Sal appears in front of me. “Jesus.” My hand flies to my chest.
“Are you okay?” He grabs my elbow to steady me, and I laugh at the concern in his expression.
“I’m fine. I was just trying to sneak away, and I clearly got caught.”
“You’re sneaking away?” His eyes drop to the mat in my hand and he grins knowingly. “Ah. You’re off for a moment of Zen.”
“I am. It’s needed.”
“Understandable. It’s been a busy week. I won’t hold you up.”
“Thank you.”
He holds the doors open and gestures for me to walk through, waiting until I’ve reached my car before letting the doors close, waving as they shut.
I smile as I get in, laughing over his constant need to make sure everyone’s safe, and it’s not until I’m halfway to the yoga studio that I realize I haven’t thought about my stresses once.
Maybe just the idea of yoga does the trick. Either way, I’m feeling better already.