Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
NATHAN
I decide to meet with Layla early in the morning for two reasons.
One, McLanely made it clear that this matter is urgent. In fact, the Lucky Strikers captain stopped just short of suggesting I call Layla right there in the parking lot.
I knew better than to do so. Layla would misinterpret my interest and make all kinds of assumptions about our relationship.
The second reason I arranged the meeting this early is simple—I want to get it over with.
This conversation has been dangling in the corner of my mind like a guillotine. From the moment Layla told me she was in town, I had no intentions of interacting with her and now I have to eat my own words and beg my ex to play nice with my team captain.
Better to rip off the band-aid.
Layla wraps her spindly hands around a coffee cup. Her nails are a bright red, sharpened like daggers at the tips. Very apt for a woman as calculating and dangerous as she is.
“I’m surprised you sought me out, Nat.” She smiles behind her cup before taking a sip. “On our last phone call, I got the sense that you didn’t want to see me.”
A very accurate observation. “You made it impossible for me to do that, Layla.”
“Aw, Nat. That’s sweet. I’m happy to see you too.”
That’s not what I meant.
“You look good.” Layla’s eyes slide down my face. “The haircut is sexy. Brings out the squareness of your jaw. It suits you.”
I frown.
Layla wiggles her fingers beneath her chin, showcasing her daring makeup look. She has blue eyeshadow and something dark ringed around her eyes. That dark outline reminds me of Riley.
And I really wish I were with her right now.
“What do you think?” Layla flashes me a grin and a wink. “Have I changed much since we last saw each other?”
“You look the same,” I say dryly, picking at my donut.
“Is that all?” Layla pouts. “I got highlights and I applied fake freckles.” She points to a smatter of brown spots over her nose.
Why apply fake freckles? That doesn’t make any sense to me. “Mm.”
“You used to notice all the little things about me, Nat. Where did that guy go?”
“I am no longer your boyfriend, Layla,” I say firmly. “And out of respect for your current boyfriend, I’d like if we could keep this conversation professional.”
Layla’s flirty smile drops and she rolls her eyes. “You weren’t this cold to me the last time we saw each other.”
“You mean the day you dumped me?”
“Are you still upset about that?”
I open my mouth to tell her I’m not, but she launches into a monologue.
“I did you a favor, Nat. You and I weren’t going to get married and have the two and a half kids with the picket fence like you wanted. I’m the girl you have fun with, not the one who wipes your drool and organizes your pain meds.”
Her self awareness is astounding.
I put the donut back down because it tastes like dust. Phil’s usually hits the spot, so it’s not the donut. It’s the company.
“You’re right. We were incompatible from the start.”
“Puh-lease. Don’t act like you were perfect back then.” Layla tosses her hair over her shoulder, offended. “You liked me for my looks. You liked that, whenever I walked into a party with you, everybody would watch and we’d be the center of attention. I more than held up my end of the relationship.”
“You think I was only with you for your looks?”
“Weren’t you?” She stares at me with a frank expression.
My eyebrows hike, and I’m hit with a moment of self-reflection.
I used to praise Layla’s beauty often because I genuinely thought she was a knockout.
But if looks were all I cared about, there were a lot of women with pretty faces and nice bodies throwing themselves at me.
Especially when I was at the height of my career.
“I didn’t stay with you for your beauty, Layla. I thought you were funny, smart and ambitious.”
Until I realized that ambition didn’t have a line. Layla would go after her own interests at anyone else’s expense. That side of her personality became crystal clear when she called it quits after the accident.
Layla’s eyes widen and she blinks as if it’s the first time she’s heard that I liked her personality too.
And maybe it is.
I learned a lot about myself after the near-death experience. Back then, I felt like I was on top of the world—I was in the league, playing on a great team, dating a beautiful girl. I thought that I had it made.
It took losing everything to realize how fragile I am and how fragile life is. Every little thing—breathing, walking, health, strength, having people to love and to take care of, they’re gifts. And I was not appreciating those gifts as much as I could have.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel like our relationship was purely transactional.” I stare at my coffee and then at her. “That wasn’t my intention.”
She squirms. “Oh, well, it’s fine. Like you said, it’s in the past. Let’s just focus on the present.”
“On that note,” I lift my chin, “I’m here on someone else’s behalf this morning.”
“Who?”
“Chance McLanely.”
Layla’s expression pinches.
“I’m going to ask this in as civil a way as I can.” I frown at her. “What on earth possessed you to go after a man with dementia, Layla?”
Her eyes narrow slightly and then she makes the connection. Laughter pours from her lips, but it’s not an uncomfortable or sheepish laugh. She genuinely finds my outrage amusing.
“You targeted Chance Mclanely’s father-in-law,” I grind out. “All for a measly interview? Was it really that serious?”
“There you go, Nat. Then and now, you never take my podcast seriously.”
“This is not about your podcast, Layla. This is about you pumping a human being in a fragile health state for information.”
Layla pastes a hand to her chest as if to say ‘I beg your pardon’. “I didn’t ‘pump’ him for information. We had a nice little chat. I heard people at nursing homes are very lonely, and I was just doing my part to make the world a better place. Can you fault me that?”
“Spare me the act, Layla. I know you. Let’s put our cards on the table so we both get what we want.”
Layla leans forward and the low-cut blouse she’s wearing shows off more than I want to see. Her hand slides away from the cup and runs over my knuckles like a snake. “And what do you want, Nat?”
I pull my hand away in disgust. “I want you out of town as soon as possible.”
Layla snorts.
A tightness grows in my shoulders and I stare at her, steady and unflinching. “If an interview with Chance McLanely is what it takes, I’ll set that up for you. I’ve already spoken to him.”
“Oh, have you?” Layla says slyly. She brings her cup to her face for another sip.
“The Lucky Strikers are running a training camp right now, so McLanely is busy. It’s not a good time, but I give you my word that he’ll have a date for an interview at the end of the month.”
“Promises mean nothing. Even from you, Nat. Didn’t you promise you’d love me forever? And look what happened.”
My jaw tightens. She’s taunting me now.
Layla shakes her head as a devious smile spreads on her face. “Besides, I don’t want a simple interview with Chance anymore. I want an exclusive.”
I stare at her smile and I realize my strategy has failed. “You know.”
“Of course I know. That poor, confused man sang like a canary. At first, I wasn’t inclined to believe him.
” She runs a finger over the rim of her cup, staring at me.
“But, since Chance McLanely sent you to dangle an interview like a carrot and kick me out of town, I guess that old man was right. The Chance McLanely is going to propose to his girlfriend, April Brooks.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss, glancing around. Phil’s is a small cafe and it’s crowded, even this early in the morning.
Layla’s lips arch up.
“What do you want? An interview with more hockey players? Jewelry? Endorsements?”
“I’m not a cheap date, Nat. You know that.”
I inhale sharply.
Layla leans forward, her eyes glittering. “You’re not the one in charge here. It’s me. This is no longer a negotiation.”
“Don’t push it.”
“Oh, are you upset?” Layla reaches out and cups my cheek. “You sweet, naive oaf. You think everyone is as upright and sincere as you. That’s why you keep getting played.”
My heart slams against my ribs and I rip my face out of her hands. “As long as you leave town, we can work with you. It doesn’t have to be this ugly.”
Layla smirks, picks up her purse and looks down at me. “I know something important about Chance’s relationship and I can disclose it whenever I wish. That’s called ‘power’, Nat.” She slides her sunshades over her face. “I’m not leaving Lucky Falls anytime soon.”