Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
KEELEY
“So you don’t think it’ll affect us working together?” Sal asks, stepping forward, his intense gaze boring into mine.
“It won’t. I promise. But I agree we shouldn’t do it again.”
“After tonight.”
“After—" Sal sinks his hands back into my hair, rendering me speechless as he lifts my face to his, his dark eyes holding me hostage, a question in his gaze. He wants this, me, but he’s not going to do anything until I tell him I’m with him.
“After tonight,” I agree and he sighs before his mouth descends on mine, sealing our lips in another intoxicating kiss.
His hand lowers to cup my cheek, and a groan escapes from the back of his throat, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is wrong, but when he walks me backward and lifts me to perch on the edge of his desk, I’m too far gone to care.
“Take me,” I whisper against his mouth, before leaning back onto my elbows. Our eyes meet and the look of desire and lust staring back at me sends a gush of wetness between my thighs.
“As you wish.” Sal drops to his knees and opens my legs, staring between them as?—
…
My alarm blares and I jolt awake with a gasp. Goddammit. Was I about to have a sex dream? About Sal?
I pause for a second, trying to recall the dream, and when it hits me, I burst out laughing. Stupid alarm. I could have used a happy ending. It’s been too long.
We may have agreed not to kiss again, but no one said anything about using each other to get ourselves off. Even if it’s only in a dream.
Although, I have no doubt that Sal’s far too much of a gentleman for that.
His loss. Not mine.
Switching off my alarm, I close my eyes and try to find my way back to my fantasy until the real world hits me.
Goddammit. I have responsibilities that affect others, and those are far more important than any fantasy dream I was trying to continue.
My toes curl as I stretch my body, listening for the satisfying crack of my back as I twist, and by the time I’m out of bed, my dream is nothing but a distant memory.
Probably for the best.
After prepping my morning smoothie, I lean on the edge of a stool in my kitchen and scroll through my emails, holding my breath for what I know is coming.
And just as expected, it’s there.
Subject: I’m sorry. The news has gone wide.
Fuck.
At least Zane had a day to himself before the chaos began.
I read through a few emails, gathering as much information as I can before texting Zane. Not only has Landon’s death been announced, the media also know about his arrest, meaning every dirty detail is about to come out.
KEELEY: Landon’s death has hit the news and someone leaked that you were in lockup yesterday. We’ve got this. I’m not worried and neither should you be. But we’re going to need to talk
My message turns to read but Zane doesn’t respond, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t expect him to. At least not right away. He needs time to process it all. The last few days have been hell for him.
He deserved more than twenty-four hours of respite.
After inhaling a calming breath to center myself, I throw on my workout gear and secure my earbuds to walk while I call my contacts—killing two birds with one stone—advising everyone that Salvatore D’Angelo will be making a statement later today.
It’s just past nine when I make it to the office, having already put in a couple of hours of work.
I’m ready to take on the rest of the day, but as I turn the corner, Sal spots me and my heart jolts.
Please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird.
I couldn’t handle it if last night changed things between us.
He pauses briefly, until I smile and his eyes soften with relief as he beelines toward me, ignoring his assistant when she calls out.
“How’s your morning been? My phone’s been blowing up since seven.”
“And I’ve been blowing up other people’s phones since around the same time. Are you sure you want to make the statement?” I finished writing it last night when I got home. After our brainstorming session, it didn’t take long.
Sal straightens, his confident stance giving me his answer before he voices it. “Send it through, and I’ll be ready whenever you need me.”
“Eleven?”
“Sounds good.”
I turn to walk past him but his arm shoots out, wrapping around my waist before he quickly lets go. “About last?—”
“There’s nothing to talk about. We’re good.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I don’t?”
“Nope. I was going to ask about the pizza. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’m pretty sure it featured in my dream.”
“The pizza?”
“Yeah, the pizza.”
My dream from last night comes back to mind and I laugh softly. “Me too. Told you it was amazing.”
“It sure is…was.” He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Anyway, where was it from again?”
“Riccardo’s.”
“Thanks. That’s all I needed. Now I better go and rehearse my speech.”
“No one will fault you for reading from a script.”
“I know. But…”—he pauses, his smile fading—“I want to get this right. I want it to sound genuine because I genuinely care.”
“You’re a good man, Sal.”
“Not all the time.” He squeezes my arm and walks back toward his office, stopping by his assistant’s desk before heading inside. My brows furrow as I watch him, but when Wes calls my name, I snap out of it, instantly reverting back to business mode.
Though I can’t help wondering, was he really talking about the pizza? Because I know I wasn’t.
The media crowds our practice field, and when I note the disgust on some of their faces, I’m relieved that Zane stayed away. And that Blair’s with him.
Sal stands to deliver his statement, and before he even says a word, Jeff from Sports Unfiltered bellows out from the crowd, “Have you dropped Zane from the roster? With this being a family team, I’d say it goes against your belief system to have a murderer in your lineup.”
I cringe as my stomach sinks, my fists clenching at my sides as I struggle to hold back from ripping into him.
“Thank you for the valid question,” Sal says calmly, his stance confident, his gaze directed Jeff’s way. “Though if you’d waited a few minutes like everyone else, you wouldn’t have wasted your breath voicing it.”
I stifle my amusement while others around me aren’t so polite. “In other words, keep your mouth shut until question time,” one of the reporters from News Break International calls out, and I have to stop myself from yelling hear, hear.
Chatter begins throughout the crowd until Sal waves his hand and clears his throat, the simple actions bringing everyone to silence.
“Thank you all for coming on short notice. As you will have heard by now, one of our rookie players, Landon McKenna, passed away a few days ago. His family asked that the news be kept quiet until they could arrange a private burial for him, but that didn’t go to plan as they had hoped.
No matter the circumstances surrounding his death, we are all saddened by the news, and have sent our condolences and support to his family during this terrible time.
“But while a young life was lost, there are others who are suffering because of an incident that never should have happened in the first place. Zane Fitzpatrick being one of them, along with Reed Coombs and his partner, Hayley.”
Sal pauses, subtly swallowing back his emotions, and while I know he’s nervous, because he told me as much, you wouldn’t know it by looking at him.
His voice is even, his stance remains tall, and his composure is solid.
He’s a man of great integrity and right now, it’s pouring out of him through his words.
“As Jeff so kindly pointed out, the Storm franchise is a family-oriented team, and Zane is and always will be one of our family members. We ask that you don’t throw stones until the police have finalized their investigation.
For now, Zane has not been charged with anything surrounding Landon’s death, and it’s likely to stay that way. ”
Murmurs begin but Sal’s quick to shut them down.
“I will not hear any ill will toward either Zane or Landon now or in the future. If you have a genuine question, I’m here to provide answers to the best of my ability, but I will not tolerate false accusations or negativity.
I can’t stop you from publishing your gossip, but I refuse to be a part of it.
Now, I have five minutes before we have to clear the stadium for our closed practice today.
” A sea of hands shoot up and I search the faces, pointing to one of my college buddies who I pray does me a solid.
“Mr. D’Angelo, how is Zane’s mental health in all this?”
I breathe a sigh of relief, making a note to thank him later. These are the types of questions I wanted, but I don’t expect it to be all that smooth sailing when their articles go live later today.
After Zane is officially cleared, as he should have been from the start, I spend the next week fielding question after question about his life—past, present, and future—while doing my best to keep the impact on his mental health as minimal as possible. Which is not easy.
I know it’ll pass. The news is fresh in everyone’s minds, and despite proving his innocence, there are still some assholes out there that need someone to blame. Supporters that want answers, believing they’ve somehow been wronged or lied to.
The San Francisco Storm is once again in the heat of controversy, but this time, the entire team is rallying for their teammate, refusing to let anything bring them down.
I head home early after a particularly stressful day drowning in emails—trying hard not to pull out my hair after another Storm fan decided to spread some bullshit about Zane’s past.
My phone buzzes multiple times when I walk through my door, and I welcome the fact that it’s likely to be the group chat, needing the distraction.
HAYLEY: So… I’ve just realized that the guys’ group chat is like a beacon for love
PAIGE: A what, now?
My thoughts exactly.
HAYLEY: A beacon for love. A matchmaking service. Whatever you want to call it. Think about it. First it was Luke’s support group and he found love with Amelia. Then it was Easton’s turn. Then Reed. You see where I’m going with this…
I snort out a laugh until I give it some thought. She’s not wrong. What I wouldn’t give to be there when Easton learns that little tidbit. He’s going to shut that chat down so fast the guys won’t know what hit them.
AMELIA: Does that mean it’s over? I think it’s only Dylan and Thomas left on the group chat and they’re both married
HAYLEY: They added Zane, so they can add someone else
AMELIA: Who?
HAYLEY: Reed and I have someone in mind
PAIGE: Shit. Hayls, what are you doing? Easton just showed me the guys’ chat
HAYLEY: What? It’s a great idea
PAIGE: I’m not so sure she’s going to agree
She? Fuck. I don’t like the sound of that. As the only single one in our friendship group, it doesn’t take a genius to know who “she” is.
KEELEY: Dare I ask?
HAYLEY: It’s you
Of course it is.
PAIGE: They’ve decided to call the group chat Keeley’s support group even though you’re not on the chat. Apparently, it’s your time. Easton’s not happy
I’ll bet. Neither am I.
PAIGE: I think it’s kind of cute
KEELEY: It’s not cute or necessary
HAYLEY: Wait. Reed said Zane’s defending you. What does he know that we don’t?
What in the world? I groan comically as I fall back onto my bed. My guess is that he’s defending me because he still feels indebted to me.
KEELEY: He knows nothing because there is nothing to know
I’m being honest, at least about Zane knowing anything, but something tells me they’re not going to believe me.
HAYLEY: I love you, but I don’t believe you
And there it is. Right on cue. Gotta love them.
Channeling my grumpy younger brother, I remove myself from the group chat, laughing as I do. Because this is all harmless. I hope.
KEELEY LEFT THE GROUP
I don’t need help with my love life. Nor do I want it. But I guess, what does it matter if they name their little chat after me? It’s not going to work. I don’t have time for love in my life, and I give it a few weeks before they figure that out and get bored.
PAIGE ADDED KEELEY TO THE GROUP
PAIGE: I’m sorry, Keels. It’s official. They’ve changed the group name. Easton’s just as pissed as you are
KEELEY: I’m not pissed. But it’s pointless. Although, since my life’s goal is to irritate my brother, maybe it won’t be so bad
HAYLEY: That’s the spirit. The love of your life is out there waiting and this is going to attract him
An image of Sal comes to mind and I laugh even harder. Nope. We are not going there again, even if he did light me up inside from only a kiss.
A kiss… I have an idea.
KEELEY: I don’t know about love, but I’ll take a hookup. If the group chat can work on that, I’d greatly appreciate it
Might as well put their meddling to good use. Can’t have them wasting their so-called power.
PAIGE: Thank you for making my night hell, Keeley. Easton just read that text
KEELEY: Whoops
Sorry, not sorry. This is going to be fun.