Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
JANE
“He’ll break your heart, too. They all do.”
Rebecca Jansen’s words echoed in my head as I was preparing Austin’s usual pregame breakfast of oatmeal and eggs.
It hadn’t seemed like she was trying to be malicious. I got the feeling she was genuinely trying to warn me away in some misguided attempt to save me from Austin.
I didn’t know what to make of it.
My phone pinged with the distinctive sound I used to signal Google alerts for Austin’s name. I finished turning over the eggs and reached for my phone, swiped the screen to unlock it, and tapped on the notification to open it.
My heart sank. The headline read: Chicago Chaos Changes Are All Talk.
I scanned the article quickly. “Speak of the devil.”
Rebecca Jansen was claiming that the team’s less than stellar performance against Detroit showed that fans couldn’t expect the kind of turnaround that the Chaos’s new management was insisting was just around the corner.
In addition to referencing the game, she cited obvious tension between members of the Chaos, particularly Drew McKinley and Matt Matthews, as well as a “heated argument” between the team’s captain, Austin Harris, and members of the Milwaukee Mountain Lions at the fundraiser the previous night.
My gut churned. Whatever my complicated emotions regarding Rebecca might be, Austin would be furious. Either that or devastated. It was hard to know for sure.
Coach Dunn and Stephen Robertson wouldn’t be pleased either. Not to mention Joseph Trent, who’d spoken at the fundraiser and certainly wouldn’t be glad to hear that his players had done anything worthy of negative attention during the time when they were supposed to be having positive exposure.
I drew in a deep breath and let it out in a gust.
Rebecca Jansen could hold a grudge, that was for damn sure.
I did feel for her. After all, she’d found out in the worst possible way that her boyfriend—Connor Taggert—was cheating on her. Photos of him with another woman had surfaced on one of her competitor’s websites.
I understood her hurt and her anger. It was true that most of his teammates had known what was happening and hadn’t told her. That was a betrayal, in a sense.
But righteous anger or not, Taggert was gone now. The rest of the team didn’t deserve to suffer because of his misdeeds. Especially not when they’d kept quiet out of fear rather than loyalty. Punishing them for that went beyond petty.
The eggs sizzled, and I turned off the heat, then stirred the oatmeal, which was almost ready too.
I needed to tell Austin about the article.
I doubted he’d seen it yet. He liked to stay focused on game mornings, which meant he didn’t visit social media and screened all calls other than those from his coach, agent, the team manager, and me.
Despite knowing I had to tell him, I was tempted to keep it to myself until later because I knew it would upset him, and I hated to do that.
Unfortunately, even if I kept my mouth shut, I had no doubt he’d find out as soon as we reached the stadium.
It would be best if he had time to prepare his game face.
If he was blindsided, that wouldn’t help anyone.
“Morning, Jane,” he said, wandering into the kitchen with headphones around his neck and a team jersey on. It looked soft and cozy, and my fingers itched to reach for him. “Is breakfast ready?”
“Yeah.” Forcing myself to turn away, I switched off the stovetop and served his eggs onto a plate, then poured the oatmeal into a bowl. “Do you want a coffee?”
He nodded. “Yes, please.”
He took his breakfast to the breakfast bar, as was becoming a habit now.
I fixed his coffee and made one for myself too, adding a spoonful of sugar and a little creamer.
I took the coffee to him and left mine at the stool beside his while I quickly put together my own breakfast of Greek yogurt and fruit.
“I, uh, have some bad news,” I said, stirring my blueberries and strawberries into the yogurt and scooping up a spoonful.
He looked up, his mouth full of egg, and made a sound in the back of his throat, encouraging me to go on. Something warm unfurled within me. He shouldn’t be adorable like that, and yet I wanted to bundle him up and protect him from the truth.
After a brief hesitation, I opened my phone to show him the article. “Rebecca Jansen is at it again.”
He read it, his frown growing deeper with each passing second. I resisted the urge to run my thumb over the furrow and smooth it.
“Damn.” He wiped his expression clean, hiding his frustration. “How are we supposed to make progress in cleaning up our image when she’s so determined to stand in the way?”
“I guess all you can do is keep trying and hope that if there is less for her to latch onto, then there’s less damage she can do.
” It might not be what he wanted to hear, but I couldn’t think of a better option.
If she were just some random reporter, perhaps she could be paid off, but she was a woman with a vendetta, and I had a feeling that if anyone tried to bribe her, it would be on the front page of the paper the next day.
Austin’s phone, on the counter between us, rang loudly. I picked it up, hoping I’d be able to deal with whomever it was so that it wouldn’t distract Austin from his upcoming game.
It was an unknown number. I considered ignoring it but figured it also might be exactly what we needed to take our minds off the article.
I clicked the answer icon.
“Austin Harris’s phone. This is Jane speaking.”
“Put my son on right now.”
My stomach lurched. I turned away from Austin and quietly asked, “Is this Jon Harris?”
“Yes, it is. Now put my son on the line. He made a fool of himself at a high-profile event, and I want to know what he has to say for himself. I know I taught him better than that.”
I hung up.
“Was that my father?” Austin asked.
Crap. I’d hoped he might not overhear.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have answered.”
He huffed. “It’s not your fault. He’s my relative, not yours. Anyway, you didn’t know it was going to be him, whereas I should have expected it.”
“Why would you have?” I asked. During my time with Austin, I’d never actually encountered his father until that day when he turned up on the doorstep.
I had blocked his calls, but he’d obviously changed his phone number since then because the Caller ID used to show who it was.
I needed to record this number and block it too.
“The fact that he was here the other day means he wants something, and when he wants something, he doesn’t just go away.”
While it was at the top of my mind, I blocked the number he’d called from. “Well, he won’t be getting to you through me.”
“Thank you, Jane.” His expression, previously difficult to interpret, was now open and warm. Flutters kicked up in my gut. Ugh, I was going to be in serious trouble if I didn’t get my crush on him under control.
“It’s no problem.”
We finished our breakfast without talking further. I cleared the dishes and then double-checked that we had everything needed for his game. We packed the car, and I started his game day playlist, resisting the urge to plug my ears when Imagine Dragons’ “Believer” started playing yet again.
I drove him to the stadium, and we parted ways outside the changing room. I went looking for the partners of the other players and found three of them behind the penalty box. They’d saved a few seats, and as I approached, Simon Banks, Amir Gadot’s partner, made room for me on the seat beside him.
Simon was a small, bookish man, with round spectacles and the kind of fashion sense that made him look like an absent-minded professor, all tweed jackets with patches on the sleeves.
He was an accountant and handled several of the players’ wealth management, including Austin’s.
Perhaps if Dad had had someone like him, his money would have stretched further.
“Hi, Jane.” He flashed me a small smile.
I was lucky that everyone had been so accepting of my change in position.
Maribel was always sweet, so that was no surprise, and Simon had gone out of his way to make me feel welcome too, presumably because, as the only gay man among the wives and girlfriends, he knew how it felt to be a bit of an outsider.
“Hi, Simon.” I sat and rested my handbag on my lap. I may no longer officially be Austin’s assistant, but I was being paid to carry out the duties regardless, and I had my trusty tablet and a few other supplies in my bag in case I needed them.
“What happened last night?” he asked, lowering his voice, but not enough to prevent the other two women from hearing him.
I shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I left to get drinks, and when I came back, Austin was angry with the Milwaukee guys. I don’t know what they did, but it must have been something. He isn’t the type to lose his temper for no reason.”
“Hmm.” He looked intrigued. “You really didn’t hear anything?”
“Unfortunately not.” Although I doubted I’d tell him even if I had. I may like Simon, but I got the sense that he was a gossip.
“Shame.” He sighed, disappointed to miss out on getting the inside scoop.
“How is Amir feeling about the game today?” Better to change the topic than get stuck talking about something I was uncomfortable with.
Simon gazed out over the ice and scuffed his shoe against the floor. “He and Taylor are working well together, but they haven’t gotten up to speed with Fox yet. I can tell he wants to be optimistic, but…” He waved his hand as if it were self-explanatory.
“Yeah, no one wants to get too excited in case it all falls apart.” I got that. Their new management, while not totally warm and fuzzy, was miles better than what they were used to, and the players were probably all afraid that the other shoe was about to drop.
“Jane!”
Surprised to hear someone calling my name, I looked around, and my eyes widened as I spotted Hazel waving from the end of the row.
“Can I?” she asked, gesturing at the chair beside mine.
“Of course,” I replied. “Have you met Simon?”
They both nodded and greeted each other with smiles.
I angled myself toward Hazel. She was wearing jeans and a dark jacket, with a cute cream beanie pulled low over her ears and a fluffy pompom on top.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I said.
“I thought I’d surprise Austin. Plus, you know, there was that whole article this morning. I figured he could use all the support he could get.”
Impulsively, I hugged her. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” She really did mean the world to him. “How’s college?”
While she and I were both studying, we attended different campuses.
“Fascinating. I’m taking a psychology class this semester and it’s making me see so many things in a different light. How about you? You’re nearly done, right?”
“Nearly,” I agreed. “It’s good. I shouldn’t have any problems graduating on time.”
She lowered one eyebrow and raised the other—an impressive feat. “Your classmates haven’t been weird about the whole Austin thing, have they?”
“No more so than usual. They were always trying to get the latest news out of me, so that hasn’t changed.” I might have gotten a couple of side-eyes and the occasional comment, but I’d expected that, and it didn’t bother me as long as I kept my distance from those people.
Simon stood. “I’m going to get a coffee. Would you like anything?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I demurred.
“I’d love a hot chocolate with Baileys and a serving of whipped cream,” Hazel said brightly.
Simon grinned. “My kind of drink.”
He sauntered off, and Hazel and I chatted about nothing in particular until the players emerged onto the ice.
Simon returned with the drinks and passed Hazel hers. I had to admit, it smelled good.
The players warmed up, and soon enough, the game began.
It started out rough.
The Mountain Lions had a reputation for being very physical and they lived up to it as they bowled players over and cross-checked them into the wall at every available opportunity.
The Chaos played hard too, though, and Coach Dunn gave more ice time to the bruisers in the fourth line forwards than usual.
Despite the casualties, I couldn’t help but smile.
The Chaos were operating more like a team than they usually did.
They were passing and working together enough that they came across as being kind of cohesive.
That might sound like a low bar, but it was an improvement from their previous performances.
There were no goals scored in the first period.
In the second, one of the Milwaukee players we’d seen at the fundraiser skated over to Austin and shouted something, but I couldn’t hear what.
Austin didn’t react, and the game continued, but within a matter of minutes, Drew had picked a fight with the guy and been sent to the penalty box. He sat below us, slumped on the bench, quietly fuming.
When his time was up, he flew back out with a vengeance.
The third period started with nothing on the scoreboard. The teams were evenly matched, with the puck getting sent down one end, only for it to immediately be propelled back to the other.
I was so enthralled, I’d hardly eaten any of the Oreos I’d tucked into my purse as a snack, and I’d forgotten any thought I’d had about recording notes that might help Austin in a postgame breakdown.
I leaned forward, my forearms on my thighs, and clasped my hands together because they were chilly despite the way my blood was pumping with excitement.
The last minute of the third period began to count down.
Nick had the puck and was tearing down the ice toward the opposing goal, but he was intercepted.
A Milwaukee defenseman stole the puck from him and passed it to their center.
Their forward line moved up the ice, an intensity to them that couldn’t be mistaken.
Matt came out to meet them, but they passed it around him and, as the timer blared, sent the puck over Mitch’s raised glove and into the goal.
The Mountain Lions cheered, but they fell silent quickly as they realized the timer had gone off before the puck hit the net.
We all waited with bated breath for the official decision.