Chapter 17 #2
I don’t laugh. I try. It comes out thin.
My media badge is tucked into my coat, my face neutral, my spine straight. On the outside, I look like I belong anywhere I decide to stand. On the inside, I feel like I’m walking toward something I don’t want to know.
“Relax, Sassy,” Paul adds gently, glancing at me. “If it were bad-bad, Hugo wouldn’t be meeting us here. He’d be behind a desk with soundproof walls and a non-disclosure thicker than my thigh.”
“That’s… not comforting,” I murmur.
We pass through a security checkpoint and are waved through without a fuss.
Paul smiles and nods at the men stationed there, not flashy, not entitled, just familiar.
They know hockey. Its history. It’s ghosts.
And they remember who he is, even at eighty-four, even when he stopped coming here after Patsy passed, even with the years softening his features.
Respect like that doesn’t fade. It settles in and stays, and it still has that effect on people, even now.
In the elevator, I rest my head on his shoulder, “You ever wish you could go back and change something?”
“Years ago, maybe,” He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Standing here now, not a chance.”
“I wish I’d gone the whole journalism route. Told stories that matter, raw and gritty, no fluff. If this all goes away, I’m going to do that.”
“It’s all going to be fine, kid.”
“If it isn’t, you know what would make it better?” I look up at him.
“Marrying a Russian hockey player who can afford the lifestyle you’re accustomed to?” He jokes.
“Telling your story to the world.”
“Nobody wants to hear that crap.” He chuckles.
“I’m sure glad I got to.”
“Jesus Sassy, you’re gonna make me cry again, and I can’t do that when we’re heading into a meeting with that lawyer who’s soaking us for thousands an hour.”
I smile at him, “Us?”
“You can’t cover it, I can,” He winks. “Eh, just gotta be quick.’
“We can take our time. I’ll have it billed through the company.”
“You’ll be alright no matter what. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re a smart girl, a real go-getter, and Waverly isn’t that tower of yours, but the fourth floor.
I didn’t let them touch it for a reason.
It’s yours if you need it.” Then he pops a kiss on the top of my head.
“Hasn’t changed much since we turned it into a little apartment so your mom could live there when she went to college at NYU. ”
Eyes burning now, I tell him. “If I get ousted, it’ll be the first place I go.”
Walking past my suite toward Vales, I have to force myself to move forward. I don’t want them to be bad, them meaning Matteo and James. All the years I’ve trusted them without question?
Matteo, who has been at my father’s side since my memories began to stick.
Who caught on to what I was doing and didn’t pull me aside to tell me to sit down; instead, he gave me the courage and confidence to keep moving forward.
Hell, when I was little, he brought me juice boxes and told me the truth when adults tried to soften it.
Matteo, who never once asked for anything in return.
James, who has driven me everywhere since I came back, as I was trying to figure out how to tell Dad I didn’t want to be his intern; I wanted to be a reporter.
He knows my silences. He adjusts the music when my shoulders tense.
He learned my coffee order before I ever spoke it out loud.
He has waited outside hospitals, offices, and funerals, and never once made it feel like a burden.
People don’t just become leaks.
They don’t suddenly decide to betray you after years of loyalty. That’s not how genuine relationships work. That’s how paranoia works. That’s how power poisons perspective.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Paul slows as we approach a door, and something catches his eye. I look back and see Aleks jogging toward us.
I can’t help but smile. “What are you doing?”
“Just wanted to tell you good luck.” He nods to my bag. “Phones off. Didn’t want to let the girls know you were here early, I assume.”
“Shit,” Paul mutters, “Do I have one of those trackers on me?”
Aleks clamps his shoulder, “Doesn’t matter. What matters now is you’re here, and both of you deserve some answers.”
God he’s so sweet.
He looks at me, “Good luck, and remember our plans don’t change based on the information you get. But if you need to head back to The Broadview, I’m taking you there.”
“AK,” I clear the emotions from my throat. “We’re good. But if I get shit because you’re breaking some hockey ritual or rule, you won’t be.” I step to him, push up on my toes, and kiss him on the cheek. “Win this game.”
He doesn’t move; he just looks at me, a smirk pulling in the corner of my mouth, because I just broke a rule. “That’s the plan.”
“You need directions, Kilovac. The ice is that way.” Paul jokes.
“Throw me a sign?”
I simply nod, mesmerized by how blue his eyes are, and then when he turns around and leaves, just how perfect that hockey ass is.
“You done checking him out?” Paul asks. I shake my head no, and he tugs on my sleeve, “Let’s see if he’s got any answers.”