18
Nash
A buzzing sound I couldn’t place was pulling me out of deep sleep. I rolled over onto my back, noticing the empty space beside me, still warm from where Kennedy had been.
I blinked, looking around the room for her, when the bathroom door opened and she stepped out, her hair loose around her shoulders as she pulled on a blouse.
“Hey,” I murmured, voice rough with sleep. “What time is it?”
“Good morning,” she said. “It’s just after six.”
“Six,” I groaned.
“Yeah,” she said, moving around the bedroom. “I’ve got an early meeting.” She stopped at the mirror, fastening an earring.
I propped myself up on one elbow, watching her in her all-out business mode, admiring the way the pants hugged her ass. “You could be late,” I suggested, already knowing I didn’t stand a chance but throwing it out there anyway.
She gave me a quick smile and leaned over to press a kiss to my mouth. “I can’t.”
“Can I at least make you breakfast?” I asked, my legs already swinging over the edge of the bed.
“I’ll eat at the office,” she said, heading for her bag, “but I won’t say no to coffee.”
That made me grin.
I followed her into the kitchen, turning on the coffeepot while she scrolled through her phone, responding to some messages and then laughing. I raised a brow.
“Josh sent a silly video of his cat.”
That made my brows go even higher. “Sampson?” She was texting with Sampson?
“Yeah. His cat’s cute but kind of crazy. Do you want to see?” Her eyes flicked up to mine.
“No, that’s okay.”
It probably shouldn’t have bothered me that she was texting my teammate, especially after the conversation we’d had the previous night, but it kind of did.
“What are your plans for today?” Kennedy asked, taking the cup I handed her.
“I’ve got a photo shoot at eleven.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Like the Armani one?”
“This one’s for a sports brand, but yeah, similar, I guess.”
Her smile was warm. “I can’t wait to see it.”
A few minutes later, I watched her head down the hall, heels clicking against the floor before she disappeared out the door—off to work like normal people. Well, normal people who started earlier than most.
I grabbed my second cup of coffee and my phone and dropped onto the couch. The morning news murmured in the background while I thumbed through my messages—one from my agent, an update about a team meeting, a few texts from the guys at the bar last night that actually made me laugh.
Then a sports app notification with my name popped up. I tapped it, and a headline lit the screen: Reed Leads Team to Victory with Vintage Play.
The article broke down my second-period turnaround play by play and ended with a line that made me smirk: Maybe he’s not just a wannabe model after all.
It felt good—better than good—to have people talking about my hockey again. For too long, every article about me had been related to the Armani campaign.
I really hoped today’s shoot would be different. I didn’t know the details yet, and that made me a bit uneasy.
The brand was legit—they made compression wear and warm-up gear I actually used—but the last thing I wanted was another set of glossy, overproduced shots that had nothing to do with the ice.
I wanted the focus on me to stay where it was after last night—on my game.
· · ·
“Honey, I’m home,” Kennedy called in a playful voice, giggling as she shut the apartment door and locked it.
I couldn’t help but grin. I loved that she came straight here after work—and that she’d used the key I gave her without much of a fight. It had only been a week, but it felt like so much more than that.
The second she stepped into the kitchen, her eyes lit up as she sniffed the air.
“Is that pot roast?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, a little surprised she could tell just from the smell. I shouldn’t have been, though. Her mom, Cindy, used to make pot roast all the time when we were kids.
“It smells wonderful. Is it ready?” she asked, setting her phone on the table and walking toward me.
“Hi,” I said, leaning down to brush my lips over hers.
“Hi,” she replied, rising on her toes to meet me.
“Yeah, it’s ready. Are you hungry?”
“Yes. Starving.”
A quick glance at the clock told me it was after seven. It’d been a long day for both of us.
I grabbed the pot from the stove and set it on the island, lifting the lid to reveal the roast, potatoes, carrots, and beans simmering in rich brown gravy.
“It’s from that meal service I use, so don’t give me too much credit.
All I have to do is heat it up, but it’s just as good as it smells,” I promised.
Kennedy took plates out of the cabinet and handed them to me. I started to scoop some onto a plate when my phone rang. It was my brother, which was unusual. We texted all the time, but he rarely called. I hesitated, then answered. “Hey, Isaac, what’s going on?”
While he started talking, Kennedy slid in and took over plating the food for both of us. I could tell by the way she leaned over the pot that she couldn’t resist the smell.
“You’re all over my feed,” he said without even saying hello. “With some girl.”
“What?” I asked. “What do you mean? What girl? Where is this?”
“CelebNews.”
Another damn story about me.
“I don’t follow CelebNews,” I said, annoyance creeping in. “What are they saying now?” Regardless of what it was, I already knew it was going to be some bullshit.
Kennedy was quiet, then she held her phone out toward me. She’d opened the web browser. The headline read: Is Nash Reed Off the Market? Looks like he’s scoring on and off the ice.
It was my turn to groan.
“Last week it was ‘Reed Leads Team to Victory with Vintage Play,’ and now it’s ‘Is Nash Reed Off the Market?’ Big week for you, huh?” Isaac chuckled.
“Yeah, well, I’d rather they stick to the first headline.”
Isaac laughed. “Too late, little brother. You know they’re all about the drama. Who is she?”
The photo was grainy, but it was of me and Kennedy, taken after the last game. I was kissing her just before we got in the car. Her face was mostly hidden under my baseball cap, but her hair and her height gave her away. Or so I thought. My brother clearly hadn’t recognized her.
I let out a heavy sigh and dropped into a chair, still holding the phone to my ear. “It’s new.”
“Yeah? Is it serious?”
I didn’t hesitate in responding. “Yes.”
He chuckled. “And?”
I glanced at Kennedy. “If I tell you who it is, will you leave me alone?” I asked. Kennedy gave me a little nod.
“Scout’s honor.”
“Dude, you were never a Boy Scout.”
“Nash,” he groaned.
“It’s Kennedy.”
Isaac shouted something, but I wasn’t paying attention to him.
Knowing Kennedy did not like to be the center of attention, I reached for her hand.
“I’m sorry, baby. Someone caught us last night.
” She shrugged like it didn’t matter, but I knew it did.
To both of us. I threaded my fingers through hers, giving her hand a silent apology while my brother kept talking into my ear.
“Hold up—Kennedy Kennedy?” Isaac continued, his voice much higher than normal. “As in the girl who used to beat your ass at HORSE in the driveway? That Kennedy?”
I laughed. “She beat me once. And I was ten.”
“Bro, she smoked you.” Isaac laughed. “Mom still talks about it.”
“Can you focus for one second?” I asked but couldn’t hold back a grin when Kennedy practically glowed. “Yes. That Kennedy. And this is . . . real. So don’t be an idiot.”
Isaac let out a low whistle. “Damn. Okay. I mean—that’s cool. Really cool. She always seemed . . .” He trailed off before clearing his throat. “You know. Good for you, Nash.”
There was something genuine in his voice that I wasn’t expecting.
“Thanks,” I muttered, rubbing my thumb over Kennedy’s hand.
“Just one thing,” Isaac said, instantly ruining the sincerity. “Do not screw this up. Mom’s gonna lose her mind. She loves Kennedy more than she loves you.”
“Goodbye, Isaac,” I groaned.
“Ooh, struck a nerve. I’m saving the screenshots.”
I hung up on him.
Kennedy laughed softly beside me, and I dropped my head back.
“Your brother seems . . . enthusiastic,” she said.
“That’s one word for it.” I turned toward her fully, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry this got out so soon.”
She gave another small shrug, but her eyes told me what I already knew. This kind of attention made her very uncomfortable, and the fact that she’d gotten swept up in my world didn’t sit well with me.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured, squeezing her hand again. “We’ll handle it together. Okay?”
Her expression softened.
“Okay,” she said. We ate, and the roast really was as good as it smelled. Then we moved to the couch to watch some TV. I’d barely gotten comfortable when my phone rang again. One look at the screen made me shake my head, half amused, half resigned.
“Oh, here we go again,” I said as I answered. “Hi, Mom.”
I didn’t even get past the pleasantries before she launched straight into it. “Are you seeing someone? Who is she? Why didn’t you tell me—”
I cut her off before she could wind herself up further. “It’s Kennedy.”
Her scream was so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “I think I just lost my hearing,” I muttered, shooting Kennedy a look.
She laughed. “Is she at least happy?”
“Very,” I said with a grin.
After I hung up with my mom, Kennedy and I FaceTimed her parents. Cindy, her mom, didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. She spent the entire conversation grinning, like she’d been waiting years for this exact moment to happen.
Her dad, Rob, was quieter, but he smiled and seemed genuinely happy for us.
Her brother, though?
Yeah, that was a different story.
The second I said, “We’re together,” Jackson’s whole face snapped into big-brother protective mode. He grilled me for a solid five minutes, until Kennedy finally hung up on him.
I just laughed, but he called back a few minutes later, muttering something about, “Just making sure,” and by the end he’d loosened up enough to sound supportive.
Sort of.
Later that night, when we climbed into bed, we both received text messages from our moms—who had obviously already talked to each other—each with about a million heart emojis.