Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
AUSTIN
“D-don’t you want me to come with you and Gus to make a p-plan?” Jane asked me, her lower lip quivering.
“You should stay with Hazel,” I assured her, my gut twisting at the sight of the tears in her eyes.
“It’s c-cowardly. I helped make this m-mess, so I should help fix it.”
“It’s not cowardly.” I kissed her cheek, resisting the urge to pull her close and never let her go. Now that we’d breached the invisible barrier between us, I constantly wanted to touch her. “You need to recover. I’ve got this.”
I knew how humiliated she’d feel if she had to walk past all the people in the office, aware that they’d probably seen the photograph of us together.
Fury simmered in my veins. Whoever had taken that, they’d crossed a line, and if I ever found out who it was, I’d sue the shit out of them. They deserved to pay for upsetting Jane like this. People may call me heartless, but whoever did this was a truly terrible person.
I wasn’t even letting myself dwell on what this might do to my career. If the team were under its old management and this had happened with a younger, more reckless player—someone like Jesse—it might not have been a big deal.
But in these circumstances, it was.
Stephen Robertson, Coach Dunn, and Joseph Trent wanted to polish the team’s bad reputation. My one job had been to help them steer that ship, and instead, I’d guided it right into an iceberg, just like the goddamn Titanic.
“Are you sure?” Jane asked.
“Yes. I promise.”
Hazel wrapped an arm around Jane and guided her inside the house. I’d sent her a message when we’d left Gus’s office, and she’d been waiting outside when we arrived. I was beyond grateful for her, especially as she shot me a look over Jane’s shoulder, silently promising to watch over her.
I locked the door and went to the garage, where I got behind the wheel of the Range Rover I hardly ever drove myself. I started the engine and paused for a moment to remind myself where everything was before pulling out onto the road.
I drove back to Gus’s office in a daze, thoughts of what this could mean for me and Jane spiraling in my head. I parked, took the elevator up, and gulped at the impending sense of doom as I cut a path through the open plan area.
Gus’s door was shut, and although I knew he’d be able to see me lingering, I paused for a moment to collect myself.
As I did, I studied the assorted photographs and autographed player jerseys on the wall, guilt festering in my gut.
I’d known when we started this that Jane didn’t like to be in the spotlight and did her best to avoid it, yet I’d talked her into joining me in our ruse against her better judgment.
I’d promised to protect her, and I’d failed.
Of course you did. You’re not good enough, Harris. You never have been.
During the entire length of the drive back to my place, she’d been scrolling through the articles about us and reading the posts and comments on social media. Every passing second had only made it worse.
And this was all on me. She’d hidden herself away, done everything she could to avoid scrutiny, and I’d exposed her vulnerabilities to the world because of some ingrained desire to achieve the level of success that a father I hated had told me I should want.
What the hell?
I was an idiot. I never should have engaged in such a stupid scheme. The instant Gus suggested it, I should have shut him down.
“Come in,” Gus called, apparently sick of waiting for me.
Squaring my shoulders, I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open.
“Good.” Gus was standing, a coffee from the café down the block in his hand. All his earlier signs of weariness had vanished, and was that a new suit? “We’ve got five minutes to talk, and then we need to meet Robertson at the rink.”
“Perhaps we should have met there instead of here then,” I pointed out.
He shook his head. “We need to strategize, even if it’s only quick, and here, I can be sure that no one malicious is listening in. There, the walls have ears.”
I couldn’t deny that, so I closed the door behind myself and sat. Gus did, too. He took a long draught of coffee and exhaled sharply.
“Obviously, I don’t need to tell you that our plan backfired spectacularly,” he said.
My lips firmed. “No.”
“I don’t know exactly how the Chaos’s management will respond.” Gus’s hand shook a little around his coffee, and he put down the cup and slipped the hand beneath his desk so that I couldn’t see it tremble. “You have to be prepared that they might strip you of the captaincy.”
His words punched the air from me, and it took me a moment to choke out, “Or bench me.”
He nodded jerkily. “Or that. What happened? You’re supposed to be the client who never gets into trouble. If anything, faking a relationship should have made you more boring, not have gotten you embroiled in a sex scandal.”
“I know. But I didn’t realize I’d end up falling for Jane. I’ve lived with her for months. You’d think that if I were going to have feelings for her, it would have already happened. Apparently, I was wrong.”
Sure, I’d been attracted to her. I’d noticed her competence and how sweet she always smelled. But this was on a whole other level.
Gus nodded. “We both were. Do you love her?”
I cocked my head, considering the question. “I don’t know what romantic love feels like, but she means more to me than I could have imagined.”
“Okay.” Gus drank more coffee, his nose scrunched as if it were too bitter. “That makes our next step more difficult.”
My gut flipped. “Why?”
What, exactly, did he have in mind?
“In my opinion, we have three options. First, you can lie very, very low. As in, pretend for the love of all that is good in the world that you don’t exist.”
I stood and began pacing. “What’s the second option?”
He shrugged. “Say you broke up because the stress of all this attention was too much. That way, no one can argue that either of you was in the wrong. It’s a mutual decision and no one has any reason to look deeper.
Perhaps you can even participate in a charity fundraiser to support online privacy.
That would look good to team management and to the public. ”
My pulse thudded in my ears, and I fisted my hands at my sides. “I’ll do whatever charity work I need to, but I don’t want to stop seeing Jane.”
We’d only just gotten together. I wasn’t ready to lose her. My entire being rebelled at the thought.
I never wanted to lose her.
But I had failed her. Because of me, thousands of people knew how she looked in the throes of passion. Perhaps she’d be happier without me. I didn’t think I could bring myself to say so to her face. Not unless she brought it up first.
“So fake a breakup?” he suggested.
“No.” I cut him off with a slash of my hand. “Even if we only pretend to break up, she’ll have to move out of the studio. They’ll ask questions if she doesn’t leave, and I’m not kicking her out of her home.”
“She could stay with a friend temporarily.”
“Perhaps.” My fists tightened. It felt like I’d just found her and she was already slipping through my fingers.
“I hate to say this…” Gus began.
I glared at him, knowing that I’d loathe whatever was about to come from his mouth.
“…but is Jane even going to want to keep dating you after this? You saw how upset she was, and what it did to her. Is she really going to want to keep going through that?”
My shoulders hitched up and tension stole through me. “I don’t know.”
I wished I could say an unambiguous “yes,” but when I forced myself to pause and think about how upset she’d been when I first proposed the idea and then how badly she’d shaken as I’d held her earlier—how wet my shirt had been from her tears—I couldn’t be certain.
I’d let her down. Perhaps the kindest thing to do would be to distance myself from her so she could move on in peace.
“Maybe you’re right.” I didn’t want to let go of Jane, but I refused to be a part of anything that hurt her. “I’ll consider ending it.”
Even the thought made my stomach turn, but hadn’t I known that anything between us would end this way from the start?
Gus drained his coffee and set the empty cup on his desk. “We’d better head out or we’ll be late to meet your manager.”
“Wait. What’s option three?”
He glanced at his watch. “We don’t have time. You’ll have to trust me.”
That shouldn’t have made me nervous, but it did.
We traced my footsteps back out of the building and drove together in one of his company’s sleek SUVs to the stadium.
We parked near the side door and slipped past the rink and up the stairs without anyone seeing us.
Instead of turning into Stephen’s room as I’d expected, Gus carried along to the end of the corridor and knocked on the very last door.
The owner’s office.
Shit, this was even worse than I’d thought.
“Come in,” a male voice called.
Gus opened the door and preceded me through it, keeping his shoulders back and his movements unhurried despite the deep anxiety I knew he was hiding. I schooled my features like my father—the bastard—had taught me to do and followed close behind.
Inside, on the wall beside the window, was Joseph Trent’s personal desk, but it was currently empty. Trent and Robertson were seated behind a small, round meeting desk near the door. They gestured for us to join them.
I pulled out a chair and tried to hide the tremble in my hands as I snuck a look at Joseph Trent.
I’d seen him before but not close up like this.
He’d been quite hands-off with the team so far.
He was in good shape for a man in his late forties or early fifties, with dark, gray-flecked hair and blue eyes.
He was clean-shaven and dressed in a suit that probably cost even more than Gus’s.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Trent’s voice was brisk and professional. “I assume you both know what we’re here to discuss.”