Chapter 6 #2
He chuckled. “These guys, believe it or not. I always knew they could be a decent team if they had the right coach and got rid of that showboat Connor Taggert as captain. He cared too much about looking good for the cameras and not enough about how the team performed. My friends said I was crazy to keep supporting a losing team, but I told them things would change one day.”
I laughed, disarmed by his honesty. “Hopefully, this is the year, then.”
While I had no personal stake in how far the team went—my only job was to improve their public image and do whatever I could to fulfil the requirements of the probationary order—it would be nice to see them do better.
For the most part, they seemed like decent guys, and from what I’d heard around the office, the previous coach had been borderline abusive.
My heart twinged as my gaze found Matt again. I didn’t like the thought of him in a toxic environment. Not after he’d worked so hard to make something of himself.
“Matthews is in good form too,” Max said, following my gaze.
I flinched, my cheeks heating at the realization I’d been caught. At least he seemed to think I’d been watching Matt for professional reasons.
“He is,” I conceded reluctantly.
Coach Dunn blew his whistle and gestured for the players to cluster around him. I was surprised when he turned toward us and spoke loudly enough for us to hear. “This is the documentary crew who will be following us this season. Chelsey, would you be kind enough to make introductions?”
I nodded, refusing to focus on the fact that all the players were now staring at me. Attention was something I’d had to get used to in my line of work. It wasn’t as if I was out there giving speeches all the time, but they were occasionally called for.
“This gentleman beside me is Max Prescott, the videographer. Next to him is Patrick Stone, the director, and to his right is Kim Johns, the producer. Others may be involved, but these are the three you’ll see around most often.”
Patrick cleared his throat. “Feel free to come up and ask questions if you have them. We’d like this to be a collaborative effort.”
“I’ll give you five minutes for a meet-and-greet but no longer. We don’t want your muscles getting cold,” Coach Dunn said.
Many of the players hung back, but a few approached.
Most addressed their questions to Patrick, but a few introduced themselves to everyone.
I noticed Nick Kelly giving Kim his and Austin’s phone numbers in case she had any production-related questions.
I smiled to myself, pleased that at least some of the team were fully on board with our plans.
As the players dispersed onto the ice, Matt lingered, talking with Patrick. His eyes flicked to me every few seconds, as if gauging whether I was paying him any attention.
“Do you need help with anything?” Matt asked him as I scooted slightly closer under the guise of donning a jacket. It was slightly cold in here, so hopefully no one suspected that I wanted to be closer so I could listen in on their conversation.
Patrick hummed thoughtfully. “It would be helpful if we could talk over our plans with a player and one of the coaching staff to make sure we’re not missing anything important.”
“I saw Nick—” I began, about to point out that Nick had already given Kim his details, but Matt spoke over me.
“I’d be happy to help.” He grinned broadly, clearly pleased as punch. “I could meet you after training tomorrow. I’m sure Coach would come too. Right, Coach?”
Coach Dunn nodded. “I won’t have all day, but an hour or so should be fine.”
“But—” I protested.
“I’ll see you then,” Matt said, skating away before anyone could contradict him.
I narrowed my eyes and curled my fingernails into my palms. That interfering, high-handed jerk. Was he going out of his way to annoy me? I couldn’t think why else he’d make such an offer.
Max looked pleased too. “I think this is going to go well.”
I forced myself to smile and not grumble like I wanted to. “Mmhmm.”
“We’d best go,” Kim said, looking at her delicate silver watch. “We have another appointment in half an hour.”
I escorted them to the door before returning upstairs to the office. I put in a full day of work in front of the computer and headed home, my stomach churning with apprehension about the meeting between the doc team and Matt tomorrow.
Layla arrived home shortly after I did and we ate frozen pizza for dinner because neither of us had the energy to do more.
“He’s so confusing,” I complained, referring to Matt. “First, he gave me that signed puck and now it’s like he’s everywhere I look.”
“Is he stopping you from doing your job?” she asked, scowling as she picked up a slice of pepperoni.
I grimaced, embarrassed to admit the truth. “I think he’s trying to make things easier, but it’s weird. Why can’t he just leave me alone?”
“Persistent asshole,” Layla said, but there wasn’t any heat in it the way there would have been if I’d told her he was messing with me in other ways. She tore into the pizza, chewed furiously, and swallowed. “Do you think he wants you back and this is his way of trying to get your attention?”
I laughed and raised an incredulous eyebrow. “He could have pretty much any woman he wanted. I’m sure he’s slept around plenty since we broke up. I doubt he’s hung up on me.”
I’d been the one to emerge wounded from our relationship, not him.
I chomped into a mouthful of pizza, snapping my teeth together more viciously than necessary. The cheesy taste was almost enough to distract me from my complicated mess of emotions but not quite.
“You never know.” Layla wiped her mouth on a napkin and drank from her glass of water. “If he did want you back, would you give him a chance?”
“No.” The word emerged without even a moment’s thought. “He didn’t stand by me when I needed him, and I’ve had enough of that. I deserve better. There’s no going back.”