Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
MALAKI
I check my phone again, and I still haven’t heard from Reese. She’s busy with Charleigh, and half the time she loses her phone, but it’s unusual not to hear from her at all by now.
Did I scare her off by saying I love you?
I’ll admit it was an impulsive thing to do, but the thought of getting on the ice to play my first playoff game ever while holding in something that begged to be said just wasn’t it for me.
I was probably more surprised than she was.
I’m the life of the party, the single-and-ready-to-mingle guy of all my friends.
Now here I am, secretly egging on my fake fiancée’s daughter to call me dada and typing I love you multiple times a day only to erase them.
Who am I?
Kane breezes past me toward his car with his phone up to his ear. I quickly catch up. “Hey, let me talk to Daisy real quick.”
He pauses for a brief second. “No…and how do you know I’m on the phone with Daisy?”
I grab onto his arm. “Dude, please. It’s important.”
Of course he’s on the phone with Daisy. She’s the only person he talks to besides me, and that’s at a minimum.
He rolls his eyes. “Make it quick.”
“Daisy?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you heard from Reese?” I try to keep the concern from my voice.
“Not since last night…”
My stomach knots. “Was everything okay?”
She sighs. “Um…well…”
My hackles rise. “Was it because I said I love you?”
“No, definitely not.” Thank God.
“Okay, well…then what’s going on? I can tell something is off by your voice.”
“Tick tock…” Kane groans.
“The date for the mediation was changed,” she says.
My heart sinks. “What? For when?”
“It started just a little bit ago. I haven’t heard from her yet.”
I say nothing. My fingers wrap tighter around Kane’s phone.
Why didn’t she tell me?
It’s like a punch to the gut.
“She didn’t tell me.”
Daisy sighs through the phone. “I know, and if I had to guess why, it’s because she didn’t want to worry you. You were in the middle of playing one of the most important games of your career when she got the email.”
Yet, somehow the game doesn’t feel all that important at the moment.
Before Daisy can say anything else, I hand Kane his phone. I jog toward my car. Kane shouts my name, but I keep going.
“Don’t be late for practice!”
Right, practice.
We have to be back at the arena in a few hours to watch films and work out some kinks for game two. We didn’t leave with the W last night, but I can’t think about that right now.
Not as I climb into my car and head for the courthouse.
I’m horribly underdressed.
I pass by a few men in suits as I push through the courthouse doors. They each glance at me awkwardly. Either they recognize me, or they’re wondering why I look like I belong at a gym.
Black sweats, Blue Devils hoodie, and a backward baseball hat.
I flip my hat forward to block my face and scan the sign posted near the elevator.
Conference rooms.
Instead of waiting for the elevator, I round the corner and take the stairs.
I barely break a sweat when I reach the third floor. The door echoes behind me, and I drop my attention to the floor to be discreet. I pass by a couple of empty rooms and peek beneath the brim of my hat to see how many more there are to go.
I stop in place when I see her, all the way at the end of the hallway, sitting there on a wooden bench. Her hands are in her lap, her chin tucked as she stares at them.
I peer behind me and then at her once more.
We’re alone.
I slow my strides, my heartbeat roaring in my ears.
“Reese.”
As if she knew I’d show up eventually, she turns and looks at me without surprise. I lose my footing when our eyes meet. Her dimples are nowhere to be found, the warmth she usually radiates cold.
I take a seat beside her and remain quiet.
Part of me wants to demand she tell me the reason for keeping this to herself, fighting words resting on the tip of my tongue, ready to scold her for repeating the same patterns of relying on no one but herself. But after I sit beside her, all I want to do is pull her in close.
After a few minutes of the two of us sitting on the bench, I turn to stare at her. I trace the perfect curve of her button nose with my eyes, the same nose that Charleigh has, and silently beg for her dimples to show their face soon.
I break the tension, unable to take it anymore. “Reese, are you okay?”
The only response I get is a blink.
I’m not sure she even hears me, too swept up in whatever’s going through her mind. A replay of whatever happened in the meeting?
My jaw flexes with frustration.
I stand up abruptly and walk over to the glass separating us from the conference room. I pray Benedict isn’t in there, because if he is, I'll have to tap into any remaining energy I have not to end up behind bars.
An older woman perks up when she sees me.
I walk over to the door and open it without restraint.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“Were you the mediator present with the woman out there?” I ask.
She looks me up and down once before locking onto my face. “Mr. Young.”
Surprise lifts my eyebrow. “I’m guessing you don’t know me from being a huge Blue Devils fan, and you know me because of Benedict Whitney.”
That’s right. Benedict Alexander Whitney.
While Reese has been filling her time researching custody cases, I’ve been filling mine with all things Benedict.
I know more about him than he thinks I do.
“I’m more of a football gal.” She smiles cheekily.
Without asking, I take a seat across the table.
She eyes me incredulously. “If you’re here to bribe me, it won’t work.”
Bribe her?
I turn on the charm, knowing it’ll get me more information in the long run.
“Bribing isn’t my style,” I say, winking at her.
Her amused sigh floats across the table, ruffling the papers spread out in front of her.
“I will tell you the same thing I told Mr. Whitney: I’m simply here to act as a neutral third party between two conflicting parties to help them reach a mutual agreement.
I don’t make the decisions. I only explore options to resolve disputes. ”
I want to be a smartass and thank her for the lesson on what mediators do, but again, that’s no way to get information.
I force a casual smile onto my lips. “I completely understand. I’m only in this room because my fiancée is clearly upset, and I’d really like to know why.” I inch my chin toward where Reese is sitting.
The woman follows my line of sight.
She glances away, not divulging anything, which is never a good sign.
“I’m not above begging,” I add.
Her light laugh fills the room, but then she sobers. “The mediation was unsuccessful.”
Great.
My teeth grind back and forth. “What did he ask for?”
She begins gathering the papers quickly. “I recommend a custody hearing,” she adds, clearly unwilling to answer my question.
I glance over my shoulder at Reese, who remains in the same spot on the bench, unmoving. With quiet irritation, I head for the door. I glance at the woman before leaving, and she’s staring at the back of Reese’s head with her eyebrows drawn together, a frown pulling at her lips.
Apparently, the answer I’m looking for is right on her face. I don’t have to look any further to know that Benedict is to blame.
The media may have me painted out as the golden retriever of the Blue Devils, but I don’t think Benedict realizes that when he messes with my girls, he’s messing with me.