26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cameron
“Nila did a great job with your social media pages,” Frankie praises as I settle into the leather chair at the table. “And I know that Sarah will continue to do well posting and managing the engagement.”
She glances over to a young blonde woman who nods in agreement. My stomach churns, but only because I wish it was Nila sitting there. Again.
I wish I could go back and redo everything with her—just to have her close again. The ache is troubling, and now I’m certain that I’m swearing off women forever.
I don’t want to go through this again .
“Cam?” Frankie furrows her brows as she lingers at the head of the table. “You okay?” Her comment draws the attention of everyone sitting there, and Tucker nudges me.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, forcing a smile. “Just mentally on the ice rink right now.”
Lies.
Mentally, I’m under the stars with Nila.
“That’s a good place for you to be,” someone else echoes.
I nod my head, trying to ignore the burning in the pit of my stomach. “Yeah, for sure.”
“I think you’ve been doing great with your posts, too,” Frankie says, leaning against the table and grabbing my attention. “You’ve really upped your game, and I like to see all the engagement you’ve given your fans.”
“I think I’m getting the hang of it.” A fake smile stays plastered on my face. Like it’s not bothering me. Like I don’t mind posting my life on the internet. Like I’m not doing it solely in hopes Nila sees it and decides that she misses me.
“Good. I think that pretty much wraps up this meeting. Sarah will handle the engagement on your profiles, and we may even let her start posting on your behalf, if that works for you. It’ll relieve the pressure—but feel free to post anything you’d like as well.”
Nodding, I push myself back from the table, grateful that the meeting is over. It’s annoying that we have to even get together to talk about something that could be sent in an email... But whatever. I get it. They like the privacy of in-person meetings. No one can hack into that.
Though I’m sure there are ways.
“Hey, slow down,” Tucker calls after me as I push through the conference room door and head for the exit. I just want to get out of here. It reminds me too much of Nila.
“Sorry,” I mumble as he falls in step beside me.
“You know, as your lawyer, I received a copy of the NDA you signed at the retreat,” he begins, his voice low. “It gives some details about an incident that happened.”
“Can’t talk about it,” I mutter, exiting the building and welcoming the warm sun on my skin.
“Uh, yeah, you can talk about it with me , Cam. How did you punch someone and then somehow get approved to leave the program right afterward?”
I eye him. “Probably the connections.”
“That makes no sense. I hope no one breaks these agreements, but sheesh , I saw that it was Samuel McCall. That’s crazy.”
“I don’t even know who the guy is.”
Tucker gapes at me. “He’s one of the most sought-after lawyers in the country—he’s represented half of Hollywood. If you were a lawyer, you’d be just as flabbergasted as me.”
“Well, good thing I’m not a lawyer.”
“Okay.” Tucker draws out a long breath. His hand falls on my shoulder as we make it about halfway through the parking lot. “I think it’s time for us to talk, man. Ever since you made it back, you’ve been acting happy, but ... not the same kind of happy that I’ve seen before. It’s fake. I can tell.”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I snap, spinning around to face him. His expression morphs to surprise, and I instantly feel guilty. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just ... I don’t want to talk about it. It’s been a lot.”
“But Lacey Reign has been silenced.”
I shrug. “I don’t even care.”
“Well, that’s good, but everyone else does. It’s been a huge relief that she’s not still preaching that narrative.”
“Woopty doo,” I say flatly. “Grand. That’s just grand.”
His lips flatline as his eyes narrow. “You should be pumped for the end of the season.”
“I am.” I rip the car door open and slide inside, leaving Tucker to hover over me. “And I’m supposed to meet my dad and the team for dinner in a few minutes, so I need to get going.”
“It’s Nila, isn’t it?”
“Who?” I play it off.
He cocks a brow. “Yeah, okay. That’s definitely it. I read the report. I know she’s the reason you punched the guy at the retreat. Like I said, I’m your lawyer. It’s my job to know what’s going on in all aspects of your life.”
“Well, then you’ll know we’re not supposed to talk about it either. ”
“Maybe not, but I know you don’t punch people for nothing. If you got cut up over Nila, I don’t think you should let it affect you. Flings happen all the time when two people are forced to be around each other for long periods.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” I quip, reaching for the door handle and tugging on it.
Tucker groans and shakes his head but lets me slam the door and end the conversation.
Again, I’m not in the mood to talk about Nila. I don’t even want to think about her—but that’s appearing to be impossible. And you can’t move on if you’re constantly talking about it.
I start the car and throw it into reverse. As I pull out of the parking lot, I turn the radio to a classic rock channel. My eyes drift over to the passenger seat, and instantly I’m picturing the adorable redhead sitting in my car, clinging to the door handle like her life depended on it.
Shaking my head, I push the memory away and zip across town to the Italian restaurant. As I pull into one of the parking spots, I check the time.
I’m almost twenty minutes early.
Ugh.
I consider calling my dad, but I know he’ll be here in a few minutes. Plus, I’ve been avoiding him as much as possible since I got back. I know he’s going to pry into why I haven’t mentioned Nila—and then I’m going to have to tell him the truth about the whole thing. Which, again, means talking about it. Which means not moving on from her.
Picking up my phone, I notice the notifications from social media. I turned them back on once I got home, telling myself it was so I would be more engaged . But really, I know it’s just so I’ll know immediately if Nila likes something. Or sends me a message.
Like she even would.
I open up the app and start scrolling through the newsfeed. It’s happy face after happy face, with a mixture of food in between. I’ll never understand the need to post what you’re about to eat on the internet. But whatever. I keep flipping through the posts, liking things that my friends have said, but otherwise, keeping it to a minimum. Sarah is going to be taking care of this now, anyway.
But then I freeze, my finger hovering over Nila’s handle popping up on my screen. My mouth grows dry as I scroll further to see what she posted.
In the time since I’ve been back, nothing has shown up—and I haven’t seen anything on her page. Until right now, obviously.
I take a deep breath and take in the photo. Nila has a bright, toothy grin, and her arm is wrapped around a dark-headed woman—one I don’t recognize.
I read the caption beneath the photo.
Dinner is better with your best friend .
“Her best friend?” I ask the question aloud as I squint down at the woman.
In all the time that Nila stayed with me at the retreat, she never once mentioned her best friend. In fact, she never talked to me about anyone other than her family.
I shake my head, feeling a pang of rejection.
Maybe she didn’t let me in the way I thought she did.
Maybe she was just doing her job, and in that, she strung me along.
The thought tears into my heart like a serrated blade, and I have to admit it makes me feel sick. Was I really that na?ve?
My finger hovers over the picture. Part of me wants to double-click—to like the photo—so she knows that I’m still here.
But that’s the act of a desperate man.
And that’s not me.
I’m an NHL center for the Glaciers. I’m a catch. I don’t have to be strung along and hung up on a woman who didn’t even give me the time of day when I poured my heart out to her at the airport.
I purse my lips.
And hit the unfollow button.
A knock on the window of my car jars me from my thoughts. I glance up, seeing Kade and Dylan standing outside. I turn off the engine, shove my phone in my pocket, and climb out to join them .
“We’ve been standing here forever and you didn’t even notice.” Dylan bursts into a fit of laughter.
“Ha ha.” I slam the door shut. “I was just looking at something.”
“Yeah, a picture of Nila and her hot friend,” Dylan muses, waggling his eyebrows. “I bet they’d be real fun. You should invite them.”
“No,” I snap, shoving my hands into the pocket of my jeans and making my way to the sidewalk. “I’m not friends with Nila.”
“Whoa,” Dylan cackles. “That sounds a little charged there.”
“Yeah, charged is a good word for it,” Kade agrees with him as they trot to join me. “Are you still salty that she wasn’t interested in you?”
“Wait, did you two...?” Dylan grabs my arm.
“No, I mean, kind of.” I run my hands over my face before dropping them to my sides dramatically. “Why does everyone want to talk about her? We may have had a little fling or something when we were in Colorado, but she’s made it clear that’s all it was. I’m over it. Mostly. And I’ll be fine. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want anything to do with women anymore.”
“Uh...” Kade’s brow furrows. “Don’t say that, man.”
“Why?” I demand, growing sharp with him. “Isn’t hockey supposed to be our life anyway? I mean, look what happened with Lacey. That was a freaking disaster. And then I go and fall hard for Nila, so I think, You know what? Forget the heartbreak. I’m going to go for it. And what happens? I get burned.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should give up on love.” Dylan’s voice actually softens. “If Nila turned you down, she was crazy for it. You’re a good guy, and I’m sure she knew that. Maybe she’s going through her own stuff. It’s not your fault.”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, swallowing the growing lump in my throat. “It sorta seems like I’m the problem. Or maybe I just pick the wrong people—but Nila was different. I fell for her in the most unconventional way, and it was all the little things about her that really got me.”
Dylan frowns. “That’s the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, and I can’t decide if I’m disgusted or grossly entranced by it.”
I make a face at him. “You’re weird.”
He laughs. “I’m fun. Come on.” He slings an arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go eat enough breadsticks to forget about Nila.”
I laugh.
Impossible.