Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
“He missed the infusion,” Ben sobbed, shaking. “They said they couldn’t — because he—”
“I’m sorry,” I said, my hands up in surrender. “I’m so sorry, Ben. Why don’t you and I go somewhere and talk about it, all right? We can—”
“You.”
Ben wasn’t listening to me at all, and when he pointed a finger over my shoulder with his entire body trembling with rage, I had no doubt who he’d spotted.
I turned just in time to see Nathan look around, as if he had no idea who Ben was pointing at.
And whatever was holding Ben together shattered completely.
He shoved past me, storming over to where Ron and Nathan were standing in the shadows.
The crowd that stood between Ben and his target scattered, screams echoing as he ran right up and grabbed Nathan by the lapels of his tuxedo.
“You said you’d help him!” Ben sobbed, shaking Nathan, his whole body trembling.
“You said he’d be okay! I threw those games for you — I did everything you told me to do! ”
Gasps rippled outward like shockwaves.
A murmur grew to a roar.
Before I knew it, Nathan was laughing and holding up his hands, trying to charm a party full of people who were now glaring at him — some of them through the lenses of the cameras on their phones.
It was the most sickening feeling I’d ever experienced in my life.
My chest tightened painfully as I watched Ben unravel in front of all these people, watched his worst moment become public spectacle.
I saw a player I’d coached, a kid I’d believed in, standing there with his grief exposed and his life forever altered.
This wasn’t victory.
This was the cost.
I knew the look in his eyes too well — the hollow, bottomless ache that came when the world took something from you that it had no right to touch. I’d worn it myself once. I’d lived inside it. And seeing it reflected back at me now nearly brought me to my knees.
Every instinct in me wanted to shield him.
To step in front of him. To take the blame, the fallout, the attention — anything to spare him from this moment.
I wanted to rewind time and change the night his father got sick.
The day Nathan first learned where to press.
I wanted to pull Ben out of this before it ever reached this point.
But I couldn’t.
Because the brutal, unavoidable truth was that Ben’s pain was also the thing that finally stripped Nathan bare.
The grief that was tearing Ben apart was the same force cracking the illusion Nathan had spent years building.
Knowing that didn’t make it easier to witness.
This wasn’t justice delivered cleanly and neatly. It was justice born from wreckage, from a kid who should never have been put in this position, who never should’ve had to carry this weight.
And still… it was the moment everything changed.
Ben wasn’t just breaking.
He was breaking Nathan.
And as much as it tore me apart to watch, I knew there was no stopping it now. The truth was out. The damage was visible. And there was no putting it back in the shadows where Nathan hoped it would always stay.
This was the end.
Not because we’d planned it perfectly.
But because someone had finally bled in the light.
Nathan reached for Ben, a soft laugh spilling from him like this was all some unfortunate misunderstanding as he grabbed his shoulders. “Ben, you’re emotional. You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s get you home and talk when you’ve calmed down.”
I swore I was about to watch an NHL player kill a man with one punch, but before Ben could swing, a calm voice cut cleanly through the chaos.
“Nathan.”
The man stepped forward from the edge of the crowd, his presence immediate and unmistakable. He was impeccably dressed, composed, his expression unreadable.
“Michael Reeves,” he said evenly. “League Integrity.”
Just as he introduced himself, I spotted Ariana standing next to Georgie near the door of the ballroom. Our eyes met, recognition widening her eyes as it buzzed through my veins.
I turned back to Nathan to find his face drained of color.
Then, reflexively, he smiled.
“Michael,” he said, spreading his hands. “My old pal. Hell of a party, right? Looks like you showed up just in time to—”
Reeves shook his head once. The motion was small and controlled — an entire conversation in one tiny gesture.
“I’m afraid I’m no pal tonight,” he said. “I need you to come with me now, okay?”
The panic in Nathan’s eyes should have satisfied me. I should have been beaming at his demise. But I only felt sorry for the bastard.
What a miserable existence. What a fucking terrible life to live in, where you had everything you could possibly want and it still wasn’t enough.
“We need to speak privately, Nathan,” Reeves said when Nathan didn’t move. “Now. You can either come willingly or we can assist you.”
Security was already moving in.
Nathan looked around, searching for an ally, a lifeline. His gaze snagged on Ariana across the lawn, her face bloodless, Georgie’s arm firm around her shoulders.
For the first time, he looked a little like a man regretting his choices.
“This isn’t necessary,” Nathan said tightly.
Reeves met his eyes. “I’m afraid it is. I’ll admit, I admire your creativity. You went to impressive lengths to delay me tonight — flagging my arrival with airport security, having me intercepted the moment I landed, questioned, separated from my phone.”
The explanation for why Reeves hadn’t answered my texts had my heart pounding quicker. My eyes caught Ariana’s across the crowd.
He was always on our side.
“It didn’t help that you’d preceded tonight’s actions with calls to the league,” Reeves continued. “Claims that the situation was already being handled internally. Suggestions that my presence here would be unnecessary and disruptive.”
Reeves’s gaze drifted to Ben standing shattered in the open, to the guests frozen in place, to the phones raised and recording.
“It was clever,” Reeves said. “And it bought you time.”
Then his eyes locked back onto Nathan’s.
“But all it did was delay me long enough to see the truth loud and clear. You’re not the only one with influence, Mr. Black. And this stopped being something you could control a long time ago.”
Security stepped in beside him.
“Now,” Reeves finished, “you’re coming with us one way or another. My suggestion is that you don’t make more of a scene than you already have.”
And just like that, Nathan Black was escorted out of his own party, the crowd buzzing with shock, whispers, and the unmistakable sense that something irreversible had just occurred.
For a beat, I couldn’t move.
The adrenaline that had carried me through the last hour drained all at once, leaving my limbs heavy, my chest tight. The noise of the party faded into something distant and unreal, like I was underwater again — except this time, I wasn’t panicking.
I was finding the sweetest release.
Carter moved to Ben, approaching him carefully before our goalie let Carter take him into an embrace. Carter nodded to me that he had it under control, and with that taken off my plate, my heart could follow the magnet pulling it so forcefully.
My gaze found Ariana.
She stood frozen near the edge of the ballroom doors, Georgie still beside her, one hand hovering at her back like he wasn’t sure whether to pull her close or let her go. Her face was pale, eyes glassy, her breath coming too fast. She looked like she was bracing for impact that had already passed.
I didn’t think.
I crossed the distance between us in long, urgent strides, my heart thundering in my ears with every step. Go easy, my common sense told me. You’re still in public. She’s still a married woman. You’ve got to take this slow.
But I just fucking couldn’t.
I swept through that crowd with everyone watching me and pulled her into my arms.
She made a small, broken sound as she crashed into me, her hands fisting in my jacket like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.
I wrapped myself around her, one arm tight across her back, the other cradling her head against my chest, breathing her in like that first sip of oxygen upon ascension.
“I can’t believe what just happened,” she whispered, her voice muffled against my collarbone. She was shaking so hard. “I was so scared, Shane. I thought it was over. I thought I’d have to leave with him. I didn’t know what he’d do, I didn’t—”
“I know,” I said hoarsely, pressing my mouth to her hair. “I’ve got you. It’s over. He can’t touch you anymore.”
I pulled back just enough to see her face, my hands sliding to cup her cheeks. Her eyes searched mine, raw and unguarded, and in that moment, I didn’t care who was watching. I didn’t care about optics or timing or consequences.
I kissed her.
It was urgent and inescapable, my mouth firm on hers, hers soft against mine, our bodies melding together as we clung to each other like the rope that led to the safety of the shoreline.
I kissed her like relief and grief and love had tangled together and there was no separating them, like I’d been holding my breath under that icy water since the day I left her and finally got to exhale.
She kissed me back without hesitation, her hands sliding up my chest, anchoring herself to me.
Somewhere beside us, Georgie cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said mildly, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth as Ariana and I broke apart. We still held fast to one another even as Ariana’s cheeks burned from the realization of how many people were watching. “I see you two have done a bit more than reacquaint yourselves.”
A few startled laughs rippled through the small cluster of people nearby, the tension breaking just enough to let the night breathe again. Ariana let out a shaky laugh of her own, her forehead resting against my chest as she exhaled. When she looked up at me, her eyes were wet but resolute.
And then, as if out of nowhere, like Mother Nature was putting on a show just for us…
It began to rain.
It was soft at first, a few warning droplets that had anyone still loitering outside moving quickly for the doors — Georgie included. But Ariana and I just looked up at the sky as it began to open, the rain falling harder and faster and soaking us to the bone.
“I don’t mind the rain, you know,” Ariana said, her watery smile making my knees buckle as her eyes locked on mine.
“It washes everything away,” I finished for her.
With a nod, she wrapped her arms around my neck again, pulling me into her for a longing kiss as the rain poured around us. And it was there in that moment with us — our fresh start. Our new beginning. No matter how messy it was, it was ours.
“Can we go home?” Ari asked me over the thrum of the rain. Then her expression faltered, uncertainty creeping in as reality tried to assert itself again. “Or— I mean—your home. I don’t… I don’t know what to call it yet.”
I brushed her wet hair back from her face, my thumb tracing her cheekbone, my gaze steady on hers.
“Home is what we make it,” I said quietly. “My house. Your house. A new house altogether — it doesn’t matter.” I leaned in, resting my forehead against hers. “Wherever you are, that’s where home is for me.”