Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
NATHAN
The meeting with Layla not only failed spectacularly, it made things much, much worse. It would have been a relief to end things there but, instead, I had to march down to the stadium where Chance McLanely was anxiously waiting for an update.
I cannot emphasize how humbling it is to look your favorite hockey player in the eye and inform him that you dropped the ball and then picked it back up only for it to blow up in your face.
“I guess I’ll have to downgrade the proposal,” McLanely said worriedly. “Better to just pop the question than risk the surprise getting out.”
“No, don’t do that.”
“But that podcaster is a loose cannon. Who knows what she’ll do next?”
“I promise you I’ll do everything I can to keep an eye on Layla. I won’t let her out of my sight until your proposal is complete.”
McLanely tried to talk me out of it, but I held firm. I’m now invested in his proposal going off without a hitch.
However, sticking around Layla is the equivalent of hugging a cactus, and I can’t imagine how painful it’ll be to stay close to my ex.
After that, training started and it was all I could do to keep focused. My body was on the ice, but my mind was downtown in an old mechanic shop, next to Riley.
I ached to see her again. To talk to her. Just a short conversation about the weather, ice cream, her shop, the future—anything.
Being around her energizes me and makes the impossible feel like a cake walk. It’s why I took the chance to show up at her garage without calling first. I wanted to tell her about Layla, update her on why I’ll be hanging around my ex in the near future, and beg her to join me and keep me sane.
“I would rather not,” Riley says.
Her voice slams into me so hard that if she were on skates, I’d be a pancake against the boards.
The smile freezes on my face. In situations like these, I’m usually quick with a joke or a line that’ll ease the tension.
My mind is blank.
Panic kicks in.
I suddenly can’t swallow.
Should I say something light? Something funny?
It’s inconceivable. I don’t have it in me to joke around when I seem to have offended Riley or made her mad.
I study every inch of her face. The ponytail with the two tendrils at the front. The dark brows. The pretty eyes. The rosy cheeks. The beautiful but unsmiling lips.
“Are you angry in general or are you angry with me?”
Riley pushes another page of her document. “I’m not angry. I’m busy and I don’t have time for your constant interruptions.”
Ouch.
I take a step back. “Oh, I… didn’t realize you were busy. I should have texted first.”
Riley’s hands go still, and she looks up. The way she’s scowling at me, as if I’m enemy number one, makes me wince.
“I don’t have time to text either.”
My mind continues to race.
“Just because you have a lot of free time doesn’t mean that I have the same. I want to focus on the shop. I can’t afford distractions.”
I hold my breath, processing her words. Maybe Riley is overwhelmed with the garage. I could understand that, but if that’s all it was, why is she looking at me like I threw her favorite toolbox into the river? It feels like she’s shutting me all the way out of her life. But why?
“Riley—”
“I’m busy, Nat.” She says my name in that angry-teacher way again and her dark eyes slide to the door and back to me in an obvious sign to get out.
My feet refuse to move.
I want to hash it out, dig deeper, figure out what I broke so I can fix it.
But Riley’s harsh stare is so sharp and unforgiving.
Now is not the time to argue.
Feeling like I’ve lost an important game without even stepping foot on the ice, I back out of Riley’s office and close the door softly behind me.
I step into the sunshine, moving on autopilot to my car and somehow backing it out of the lot. But instead of driving off, I let it idle on the street.
What just happened?
I stare at the large doorway of the auto shop that could let in the very Mack truck that just ran me over.
What on earth just happened?
Riley and I were texting last night. Everything was good. She started flirting a bit, so I responded in kind and let her know that she’s more important to me than she thinks. Did I scare her off? Is that why she’s drawing the line?
I run my fingers through my hair, wishing I could time travel to last night and never send that text. I’d rather be Riley’s stand-in brother for the rest of my life than be shut out.
Pulling out my phone, I start drafting an apology, but I stop just short of sending it. Better to let Riley cool off and then I can reach out to her—when her schedule allows, of course. I’m not going to risk showing up unannounced again.
I return to practice without eating lunch and get through the drills as best as I can with Riley weighing on my brain.
“Campbell! Faster! Faster! Are you awake over there!”
I gasp for breath and push myself harder, realizing that I’d zoned out during the drills.
By the time Coach calls it, my leg throbs more than usual, which is strange because we haven’t done anything out of the ordinary today.
“The scrimmage is in two days,” Coach announces as we drag ourselves to the bench.
“This is the final round that will solidify the roster. We’re down to the wire, gentlemen.
” His eyes cut through me. “This is not the time to slow down. It’s time to get your head in the game.
At this point, distractions will cost you. ”
“Yes, Coach!”
“Get outta here. Get some rest,” he says, chucking his chin at the hallway that leads to the lockers.
The locker room is tensely quiet.
Coach’s warning was the gunshot signaling the start of the race and waking up all the contestants. For the past few weeks, we spent every moment together as teammates, colleagues, friends and brothers.
But now, the gloves are off.
The truth is, your closest friend is your toughest competition.
I’ve been in this position before, when I was preparing for the league. It’s a cut-throat business and, like Coach said, what separates one player from another is his ability to put it all aside and win.
I have confidence in my ability to bring results and I’ve been working hard every night, studying the tapes, waking up early to work on my speed, looking for that competitive edge that’ll put me over the top.
It was all going to plan until….
I lower my head and run my fingers over my scalp in frustration. This isn’t her first time being frosty with me. The day I came to apologize after the fair, she was distant too, but something about today feels different.
Or maybe I’m the one who’s different.
“You look stressed, Campbell,” someone says on their way to the shower.
I force a chuckle and say something in response, something dumb. I don’t know. I barely think about it. I grab my things from my locker, hit the shower and come out feeling a little more rational.
Okay. Riley doesn’t want to talk to me.
Fine.
Maybe taking a break from her is a good thing.
She needs to focus on her garage, and I should be focusing on hockey and protecting McLanely’s proposal.
On that note, I pull out my phone.
Nat: Where are you?
Layla: Why?
Nat: Because I’m your babysitter for the foreseeable future.
Layla: That’s no fun.
Nat: Life isn’t fun. Where are you?
Layla: At this place called The Tipsy Tuna.
Layla: Chance McLanely’s girlfriend is here too.
I launch out of the stadium and speed it to The Tipsy Tuna. On the way, I call Chance to let him know that Layla is hovering around April.
“That woman’s insane,” Chance mumbles.
He has no idea.
“I’m going to intercept Layla. Try to get April out of there.”
“On it.”
There are plenty of cars in the parking lot of The Tipsy Tuna, and when I walk in, a beautiful, older woman with dark skin and a bright smile waves at me.
“Nat, how you been? I haven’t seen you around here in a while.”
“Hi, Mauve. You look stunning as ever.”
“You sweet-talker, you.” She swats me with the towel slung over her shoulder.
“You know you can come to me if Bobby ever gives you any trouble.”
Mauve laughs. “You by yourself tonight?”
“Actually, I’m looking for…” There. I nod at the bar where Layla is perched, drinking a martini.
“Oooh.” Mauve wiggles her eyebrows.
“It’s not like that. I guarantee you,” I mumble. Brushing past Mauve, I stop in front of Layla.
“Hey, handsome.” She grins at me. “That was fast.”
“You know why I’m here.” Taking the seat beside Layla, I frown. “Keep playing games and Chance is well within his rights to inform the town sheriff.”
Layla snorts. “And tell him what? That I’m here having a drink, same as the rest of the townies?” She takes a sip of her martini.
I bite back my annoyance. Chance needs to speed up the timeline of his proposal. It hasn’t been a full hour of babysitting Layla yet, and I’m already exhausted.
Layla waves to get the bartender’s attention. “What’ll you have, Nat? Since you’re kind enough to keep me company, it’s on me.”
“Just a water.” I tell the bartender.
Layla pouts. “You’re no fun.”
I twist my neck around, looking for April.
The music in The Tipsy Tuna is loud and it mingles with the laughter erupting from a table on the other side of the room. I recognize the ladies from The Pink Garage. Rebel, April and Cordelia must be having a girl’s night.
During my scan, a familiar ponytail catches my eye. Doubling back, I peer through the crowd and notice the curve of her cheek and the very edges of her upturned lips.
It’s Riley.
My heart reacts with a sharp tug and I half levitate off my chair so I can see her better.
“What are you looking at?” Layla asks. She sees the direction I’m staring in and laughs. “I didn’t lie to you, Nat. I’m keeping my distance from McLanely’s girlfriend until I decide what I want in exchange.”
I barely hear her words.
All of my attention is on Riley.
I can only see her from behind but she’s nodding along, her full ponytail bouncing. Cordelia leans in to tell her something and she tips her head back, laughing.
Warmth fills my chest and I feel a sappy smile pulling at my face. I’m glad to see her out and enjoying herself.
She deserves that.
She deserves the world.
“Oh my goodness.” Layla covers her mouth.
I jerk my attention back to her and grumpily ask, “What?”
“I can’t believe this. Not the goody-two-shoes Nathan Campbell.”
The bartender brings my water and I knock it back, wishing it were something stronger.
“Is that why you’re doing all this? ‘Babysitting’ me. Keeping me from telling anyone about the proposal?”
“What are you talking about, Layla?”
Her eyes glittering with intrigue, my ex leans forward. “You’re in love with Chance McLanely’s girlfriend.”