Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
cameron
“Glaring at your phone won’t make it spontaneously burst into flames.”
“If it makes him feel better, let him be,” Jake murmurs.
“I don’t think it’s working,” Logan whispers back in a not at all quiet tone. “If anything, it’s making it—”
“Logan, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I will make you shut the fuck up.” I take a brief break from glowering at my phone so I can turn the look on him.
He opens his mouth—clearly not ready to—so I growl to shut him up.
“So help me God, if you’re about to tell me you don’t care because you like it rough, I will break your legs while I’m at it. I have a lot of aggression to burn off and the game’s not until eight.”
With that, I turn back to shooting death beams at my phone.
Jake snorts and takes a sip of his Gatorade. The four of us are sprawled out in Sloane’s office, hiding from the slew of reporters who have already camped outside, waiting for a glimpse of me. Or Logan, because they probably know he has a lot to say.
I scroll through the article on my screen, stomach sinking. Shit. It’s exactly as bad as Kennedy predicted—speculative, invasive, and untrue.
Sources close to the couple say Davies’s investment came shortly before Caplan landed the high-profile Ashford-Chen wedding cake commission. Representatives for the bride and groom could not be reached for comment.
“They make it sound like I bought the wedding for her,” I mutter.
“Because they’re assholes who don’t know what they’re talking about.” Cole snatches the phone from my hand and sets it face down on the table. If my friends think the timing between my relationship and the investment is a little too coincidental, none of them say anything. Not even Logan.
“Investments are an integral part of starting businesses and even maintaining them,” Jake adds. “There’s nothing shady about Kennedy accepting an investment from someone who believes in her. Everyone knows how incredible her cakes are.”
Logan nods. “Agreed. If one of you gentleman offered to invest in my energy drink idea, I’d take that money so fast—”
“You have an energy drink idea?” Jake asks, sounding pained.
“Logan’s Lemon Lightning. Patent pending.”
“Please don’t encourage him,” Cole mutters, head hanging. “He has a logo.”
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitches. This—this chaos, this ridiculous banter—is why I love my friends. Even in the middle of my personal crisis, they can make me almost smile.
“For what it’s worth, the guys have your back on this,” Cole says, refocusing the group. “Anyone says shit about Kennedy, and they’re dealing with us.”
“Absolutely,” Jake agrees. “Already told a couple of the younger guys to keep their mouths shut if any reporters come sniffing around the locker room.”
With a groan, I sink back into the plush desk chair.
“I don’t know what to do that won’t make it worse.
Every outlet in Boston is running this story.
The Atlantic falsely connected it to the Ashford-Chen wedding and TMZ is probably drafting their ‘NHL Star’s Girlfriend Gets Preferential Treatment’ headline as we speak. ”
“TMZ already posted.” Logan whips out his phone. “They titled the article ‘Bobcats’ Goalie Bankrolls Girlfriend’s Bakery.’ Want me to read it?”
“Logan,” Jake warns, massaging his brow. Turning to me he says, “Ignore him. How’s Kennedy doing?”
Loaded question. I almost bailed on the game tonight. Having to leave her gutted me. If it were an away game, I would’ve. I feel utterly helpless knowing she’s in this position because of me.
“She’s okay.” It’s a lame answer but the only one I’ve got. “Her sister offered to drive up from New York, but Kennedy insists she’s fine.”
“Which historical figure?” Jake asks.
“Amelia.”
“Her other sister is Frankie, right?” Logan shakes his head in awe. “She has a really talented family.”
Jake leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his forehead creased in disbelief. “You do know she and her sisters aren’t actually their namesakes, right?”
“I believe in reincarnation.” Logan smiles. “So never say never.”
“Never,” Jake deadpans. “I am saying never.”
As the two of them argue, I pick up my phone to text Kennedy about Logan’s asinine theory, only to remember she turned hers off. Shit.
Sloane strolls in twenty minutes later, and when she spots the four of us taking up every seat in her office, she pulls up short and closes her eyes. “I’m not even going to ask how you got in here.”
She sinks into the space on the couch between Jake and Cole, dropping all pretense of professionalism with a heaving sigh.
“When Cameron loses his shit,” she tells them, “I expect one of you to tackle him so he doesn’t do anything stupid.”
Jake salutes her while Cole gives a singular nod. Logan practically levitates out of the armchair with excitement.
“You know what happened?” I ask, impressed by the turnaround, but not surprised.
“Yes, and I’m telling you as your friend, not a Bobcats employee, so if it leaves this room, I will make all your lives hell.”
Logan opens his mouth, but I shake my head. “She’s not kidding, Clark. You think you know people’s shit? Sloane collects secrets like a fucking FBI agent.”
Sloane lifts a perfectly arched brow. “Don’t test me. I’d be more than happy to tell the world about the secret account where you post about sourdough starter and cute dogs you see.”
Logan gasps like we’re in a daytime soap opera. “How do you know about Dogs and Dough?”
“I also know you can’t ride a bike.”
“Circle of Trust!” Logan shouts, banging his hands against the armrests of his chair. “Circle of Trust. No one can repeat that. Ever.”
She side-eyes him. “What?”
“Circle of Trust,” he huffs. “It’s a blood oath we took, and once it’s invoked, you can’t repeat the secrets you’ve heard.”
“She told us before you invoked,” Jake says, clearly already brainstorming ways to use this information against him. “It doesn’t count.”
“It’s also not a literal blood oath,” Cole reassures her. “But we won’t repeat anything you tell us, Sloane.”
She glances at each of us before nodding.
“Certain investments by NHL players have to be disclosed to the team for insurance and liability purposes,” she explains.
“It’s not approval, per se, because players can invest in whatever they want; it’s just informational.
It’s standard protocol, but most players don’t even know about it because their agents handle it.
So when Cameron invested in Crumb & Co., the paperwork went through the system.
” She pauses, her throat working. “Gigi found it.”
The pit in my stomach grows into a full-size ball of lead. I wish I was shocked, but somewhere deep in my gut, I knew she was connected. How did I ever think I loved her? What I felt for her is a burned-out match in comparison to the fucking wildfire that burns inside me for Kennedy.
“You’re sure?”
She purses her lips. “She saw you two together. You and Kennedy.”
“They’re dating,” Jake points out. “Of course she’s seen them together.”
“No.” She shakes her head, her focus never leaving me. “I mean she saw you at the practice arena. On Sunday.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Everyone at this table knows that Sunday was the anniversary of my mom’s death.
They all sent texts but left me alone, knowing I prefer to spend the day on my own.
Except this year, Kennedy sat with me in an empty arena for two hours, not saying anything, just letting me skate until my body felt numb and then holding me until I could feel again.
Sloane studies my face, reading my expression. “I guess Gigi told security to alert her if you went to the practice arena after hours, which is how she knew you were there—”
“And then she showed up, saw me with Kennedy, and decided to, what? Leak compliance documents to hurt me? To hurt her? That’s…”
“Illegal,” Cole finishes for me, voice sharp.
My jaw clenches so hard it aches, and I run my hand through my hair, feeling too much and nothing at all.
“The Bobcats will do an internal review, and the league is launching an investigation into the breach,” Sloane admits, shoulders slumping.
Jake’s body goes stiff. “It’s no longer a question of if Sanders will sell, is it? It’s who he sells to.”
She says nothing, and that silence is confirmation enough.
“Jesus Christ,” Cole breathes, cupping his hands over his face.
Every one of them looks at me, the weight of their anticipation heavy.
They’re all waiting for my reaction. My mind is spinning through implications, consequences, and the absolute fucking chaos that Gigi has unleashed because she saw me spending the hardest day of the year with the woman I’ve fallen completely, irrevocably in love with.
“Within the next forty-eight hours, the team and the league will release public statements,” Sloane adds, her tone apologetic. “It’s going to be a media shitstorm, Cameron.”
“It’s already a media shitstorm,” I remind her. “Kennedy’s being torn apart online.”
She’s the one paying the price and she’s completely innocent. I don’t care what happens to me. I care that because of me, it’s happening to her.
The fact that I make it to the third period without smacking the shit out of someone should count for something.
I highly doubt it will, though.
The moment the Warriors’ rookie says her name, anger floods me, red and hot and insidious. It’s like a switch flipping. The chill of the ice disappears and is replaced by pure, unadulterated rage.
I spit out my mouth guard and skate forward, dangerously close to leaving the crease. “You want to say that to my face, fucker?”
Jake appears beside me, shoving the kid before I can. “Walk the fuck away, Hertz. I don’t like you, but if you value your life, I highly suggest backing up and keeping your mouth shut.”
“And keep my girl’s name out of your fucking mouth,” I growl, anger like a drum pounding against my chest.