Chapter 21
The atmosphere around the practice facility feels heavy. I spot Kai across the lot, walking toward the entrance, his cap pulled low.
Normally, he’d at least toss me a crooked grin or some teasing remark about me “lurking around for a story,”
Today? He doesn’t even cast me a glance.
His eyes stay on his phone, thumb flying across the screen, then pausing like he’s waiting for something. A message or a call? I don’t know. What I do know is he’s not the same man who tangled his hands in my hair two nights ago, whispering like he trusted me.
“Morning,” I call out, forcing my tone to sound casual.
He glances up, startled, as if he didn’t expect me here, then gives me the quickest nod before looking right back at his phone.
“Hey Rochelle.” It comes out flat and distant.
I fall into step beside him, studying the tight set of his jaw. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The lie is sharp, quick. He doesn’t even look at me as he speaks.
We reach the door, and he almost lets it swing shut in my face before catching himself. “Sorry,” he mutters, holding it open a second too late. That’s not like him at all.
Inside, the usual rush of players and trainers fills the space, but Kai moves through it like a shadow, his shoulders hunched the entire time. His gaze flicks over every corner, like he’s expecting someone to jump out at him. Then he’s back to that damn phone again.
Something clenches in my chest. He’s hiding something, and I hate it.
“You seem… distracted. If there’s something going on, you can…”
“Drop it, Rochelle.” His voice is low and tight. He finally meets my eyes, and for a split second, I catch it, the fear in his eyes. It flashes before the mask snaps back into place.
He walks away before I can answer, disappearing into the locker room, leaving me standing there with my heart hammering and my instincts screaming.
Something’s wrong and it’s not just the usual hockey stuff. It’s something deeper and dangerous.
But I’ve been a reporter long enough to recognize when a story is clawing to the surface. And I’ve been around Kai long enough to know I can’t just let this go.
The café is vibrant with background chatter, but my head is too occupied for me to notice.
I’m staring at my laptop screen, my latte going cold beside me, as my mind replays Kai’s behavior this morning like a loop I can’t switch off.
The way his eyes darted to his phone, the clipped answers he gave to my questions, the way his shoulders tensed when a door slammed down the hall it wasn’t just stress. Something deeper is eating at him.
Normally, I’d chalk it up to game pressure. Professional hockey players live under constant scrutiny, and Kai thrives in chaos. But this feels different. Like it’s personal and private. Something he’s not letting anyone in on, not even me.
And that unsettles me more than I want to admit.
I pull my laptop closer, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. My instincts, the ones that got me this job and have saved me more than once, are screaming at me that something’s wrong. And if Kai won’t tell me what it is, maybe I need to find out for myself.
I start my search small, checking public records, old articles, roster profiles. Nothing unusual. Then I broaden the search by checking connections. Anything that might explain the tension shadowing his face.
After half an hour of digging, I stumble across a name I’ve never seen linked to him before: Derek.
It’s buried in an old public record from Ohio, tied to a family name I recognize immediately. Kai’s mother’s maiden name. My stomach dips, and my fingers freeze on the keyboard.
Coincidence? Maybe. But this doesn’t feel like one.
I dive deeper, my heart thudding louder the more I scroll. Derek, born in the same place as Kai. Same county. Same thread of a name that links back to his mother’s side.
I sit back, as my pulse starts to quicken.
It’s nothing more than a breadcrumb right now, just a name, a birthplace, a connection thin enough to dismiss if I were being rational. But my gut tells me it’s the start of something bigger.
Something Kai doesn’t see coming, that’s big enough to ruin him.
I close my laptop, pressing my palms flat against the warm surface. The café noise seeps back in, and it’s the sound of clinking cups and low laughter, but it feels like I’m drowning in the midst of it.
All I’ve got is a name. Derek. And for some reason, it already feels like a storm cloud hanging over both of us.
By the time I’m back in my apartment, the city outside has gone quiet, but I can’t switch my brain off. The name Derek keeps circling around my mind, and I can’t shake off the urge to find more.
I curl up on the couch with my laptop and a mug of tea that’s now lukewarm, promising myself I’ll just check a few things before going to bed.
Deep down, I know that’s a lie.
Within minutes I’m buried in old court records.
Derek Delaunay’s name shows up more times than I’d like to see.
He has misdemeanor charges, unpaid debts, the kind of messy paper trail you expect from someone that’s drowning.
Next, I find the gambling cases. Two different lawsuits filed against him by betting agencies.
One dismissed, another one still pending.
A pattern starts to take shape, and I study the pattern, trying to piece together something concrete.
I push into his social media. His profiles aren’t private, probably because he doesn’t think anyone cares enough to look.
Photos of poker nights, sports bets, captions dripping with pretense and desperation. Beneath it, comments from “friends” egging him on, knowing they’ll ghost him when the debts start to pile high.
And then, I see something worse.
Screenshots, his own, bragging of messages to gossip outlets. “Exclusive info,” he writes. “Guaranteed to sell.” My throat goes dry as I scroll. Rumors about Kai. Pieces of stories I’ve already seen online, whispers that fueled scandals, and headlines that nearly derailed his career.
It wasn’t some random reporters or paparazzi digging this up. It was Derek.
The ground tilts beneath me. Derek Delaunay, the man with his father’s last name, the man born in the same place as the star hockey player, a man whose shadow lines up too perfectly with Kai’s timeline… he’s not just some parasite. He’s Kai’s family. And he’s the blackmailer.
I slam my laptop shut, my heart hammering in my chest. The realization feels too big, too dangerous to even say aloud. Kai doesn’t know. I don’t think I can bring myself to tell him.
Because how do you tell someone the person tearing their life apart isn’t a stranger at all, but their own blood?
I press my palms against my eyes, fighting back the ache in my chest. I should tell him immediately. But the journalist in me, the woman who’s built a career on facts, knows I need more than snippets and breadcrumbs before I drop a bomb like this.
For now, all I have is proof of a predator. And the sickening certainty that the predator is his brother.
I pace around my living room, my arms wrapped tight around myself like that’ll hold me together. My instincts scream to call Kai, to blurt everything out and let him carry this weight with me. He deserves the truth. He deserves to know who’s cutting him open piece by piece.
But then I picture his face from this morning, his hollow eyes, the way he looked like he was one bad hit away from shattering.
If I drop this bomb without proof that Derek is more than just a screw-up with a gambling problem, I could destroy him.
What if I’m wrong? What if the name, the records, the trail of sleazy connections are just really a coincidence? What if Derek is family but not the blackmailer? I’ve seen what false leads can do to a career, to a reputation. To a man already hanging on by a thread.
No. I can’t risk being the bearer of false news.
I sink onto the couch, pressing my laptop to my knees like it’s both a weapon and a curse. Telling Kai now would unravel him, yet holding back feels like betrayal. Either way, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.
The journalist in me whispers verify, verify, verify. The woman in me who’s felt Kai’s hands steadying her, and who’s seen the flash of fear in his eyes wants to protect him, even if it means carrying this alone for now.
I inhale slowly, steadying myself. The only path forward is clear, even if it’s the harder one. I’ll keep digging discreetly and thoroughly, until I have enough to confront Derek and end this without ripping Kai apart in the process.
My pulse calms just enough to let the decision settle like a stone in my chest. Protect him first, then prove later.
And I’ll do it alone.