Chapter 28 #2
He wanted a hat trick for purely professional reasons.
Though I’m not sure if the payoff is worth whatever punishment Coach will bring down.
The worst punishment would be getting benched for a game.
Then again, that might be punishing the whole team because they’re playing their number one opponent next game—the Boston Brawlers.
Either way, I’m very sure his rebellious move will get him even more publicity. Some people, like Kevin, will appreciate the hot shot rebel move to get the hat trick, but others will accuse him of not being a team player. Hopefully, his teammates won’t think that.
I know in Brody’s mind, whatever he does is good for the team because they count on him to be his best. He has a tremendous amount of pressure on him to make good on their expectations.
We take a private elevator down to the friends and family room on the corporate level, and it occurs to me that Kara is family.
And she may be there with Nora. Shit. For some reason, Nora feels like a real threat—and not because of any jealousy motive—not that I have a right to a jealousy motive—because Brody made it clear he has no feelings for her unless you count contempt.
But Nora seems like the vindictive type to me, and if she has suspicions about Brody’s marriage, she may try to expose it.
It also occurs to me that the friends and family lounge would be the worst place for me to be exposed as a fraud—in front of everyone who matters to Brody. Each step I take now feels like I’m coming closer to a reckoning where I finally get called out on the marriage hoax.
“Do you think Kara will be in the friends and family room?” I ask.
Everyone in our small group stops and turns to me.
Shit. They know why I’m asking. I can see it in their expressions.
Marie gives me a concerned look, and Henry looks like a man ready to do battle.
Only Evan appears bewildered. Maybe he doesn’t know the whole story.
“I… didn’t think to ask,” I say. “Brody didn’t say.”
“What would you like to do?” Henry asks solemnly. “I can go ahead and find out if they’re in the room while you wait if you like.”
“Good idea, Henry,” Marie says. “If the woman is there, we can go down to the locker room area with the media. It’s more fun there.”
I nod. “It sounds like the best plan to avoid a potential public confrontation.”
Cherry squeaks and squeezes my hand. Henry takes off around the corner on his reconnaissance mission.
Marie gives Cherry an understanding nod. “If we have to move to the media hallway, you won’t have to say anything, Cherry. We’ll hang back and remain anonymous.”
Cherry nods and whispers to me, “I have an aversion to the media. I’m especially allergic to cameras.”
I’m surprised because if I looked like her, I’d be posing for cameras all over the place, but I get that there’s more to it than meets the eye sometimes.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take the hit for you. If anyone looks our way, I’ll move front and center and deflect attention.”
She laughs and gives me a hug. “You’re crazy. They’ll pounce on you. You’re the biggest media darling since I don’t know when. Your name and face are plastered everywhere on social media these days.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “So far it’s been working out.
” I look down at my oversized Brody Holden jersey, grateful for the cover.
None of the sports reporters have made any snarky comments about my weight or nerdy looks yet, and I don’t look too closely at the social media posts—i.e. , I don’t look at them at all.
“Other WAGS will be downstairs,” Marie says. “Link’s wife, Delaney, and Chase’s wife, Emery, like to wait outside the locker room.”
“In the media pit, you mean,” Cherry says. “I don’t know why the media doesn’t use the perfectly good press room. Emery and Delaney like to be there so they know what’s being said firsthand. And to get a good read on their husbands’ moods—their words, not mine.”
I nod. “Makes sense.” I’ve only met these women at a formal event as an agent, not as a player’s wife, and it’s hard to imagine sharing the same space with these women who are all gorgeous and confident and really married to their husbands.
A fresh wave of nerves shudders through my entire body, but I keep the smile on my face—I think. Act confident. Act the part. Be the wife. I stretch my smile.
Cherry leans in and says, “I think Brody may be at the top of the media’s list today for a possible controversy.”
My smile wavers. “I think you’re right. I need to hear what the reporters have to say firsthand.
” Is it weird that I feel more protective than usual about a client?
He’s not really my husband, but the idea of the press—and even the coach—being hard on him makes me mad, and if I’m honest, it makes me hurt for him.
I squeeze Cherry’s hand and whisper, “How do you do this every game? I mean, I know he’s a big boy and can take care of himself, but I hate the idea of anyone bringing him down.”
“It’s part of the public persona. Most of the time people are positive if that helps.”
We make our way to the elevator when Henry returns, and we decide to go down to the rink level—to the media pit. I can hear the familiar mayhem of the scene before the elevator doors slide open. Cherry loops her arm through mine, and we follow Henry and Marie into the fray.
Marie and Henry greet the security guard checking IDs, addressing him by name. With a nod, he lets us all past the rope barrier. I stick with Cherry, and we follow the Dumas family.
Marie was right about finding Emery Chase and Delaney Lincoln waiting in the hallway outside the locker room known as the Whalers media pit.
They’re hanging back from the crowd of press around the locker room door.
Marie leads us straight to the two women, and everyone exchanges hugs until they face me.
Cherry introduces me officially as Brody’s wife, and I smile valiantly to hide my inner cringe.
“We’ve met,” I say, nodding as the two gorgeous women smile at me.
“We met you as the professional agent, but now you’re one of us—a hockey player wife,” Delaney says. “Welcome to the club.” She gives me a hug, almost like one of the bro-hugs, quick and solid.
Then Emery opens her arms to me with such empathy in her eyes that I step into her embrace like she’s a cozy blanket on a cold night.
“Any time you need anything or want to talk, you call me, okay? I know how stressful the spotlight can be, and you’re getting a brighter than usual dose of it.”
“Thank you.” I’m torn between wanting to soak in their dishonestly earned warmth and shrinking back in honest shame. But my professional agent persona reminds me that I’m doing a job, and I need to act the part no matter what, for my client. Brody.
“Sabien and Brody are taking their time in the locker room,” Delaney says, “and the press is chomping to talk to them. Coach has been closed-mouthed on the question of what he’s going to do about Brody’s defiance staying on the ice for that last shift.”
I nod, grateful for the status update. I’m about to ask what they think when the crowd of reporters, photographers, and cameramen surge forward, shouting all at once.
“It’s Sabien,” Henry says; he’s taller than the rest of us and has a direct sight line to the locker room door. “He’s with Brody. They came out together and they’re joining Coach.”
We move, and I find a spot where I can see through a seam in the crowd.
Brody looks okay, and I smile reflexively, feeling relief and a bubble of pleasure.
Which is absurd since I’m getting ahead of myself if I believe his flirty promise about the hat trick means anything.
If Coach handed down some kind of punishment, he won’t be in the mood for…
whatever, no matter if he looks okay right now.
Plus, I should be more concerned about how his behavior will affect his professional image since he’s my client first and foremost—wait—he’s only my client and nothing else.
Well, nothing else except my lover.
Claiming that role and owning it, I allow my smile to widen and my chest to expand.
Cherry nudges me, chuckling. “You should see yourself. You look like such a newlywed.”
One of the reporters shouts, “You stayed on the ice to get a hat trick. Are you trying to prove something? Who are you trying to impress? Your new wife?”
Some people laugh, but most people listen for Brody’s answer.
Like me. Because the reporter’s question hits too close to the bone—and it’s the exact question I both dread and desire to hear the answer to.
Holding my breath, I stifle my ridiculous urge to run to his side and…
do what? Throw a death stare at the poor reporter who asked the question?
Brody’s professional demeanor flickers, and I narrow my eyes in search of the guilty reporter.
I know better than to get ruffled by reporters instigating athletes with controversial questions to get a spicy quote.
But I never experienced it up close and personal until the NHL All-Star weekend in Vegas.
Now it might very well be a regular feature of my life—at least while I’m still fake-married to Brody.
“I shouldn’t have stayed on the ice,” Brody says. “It was a dick move. My only excuse was my over-excitement at being cleared to play and wanting to make the most of it.” He searches the room, looking over the crowd until he spots me, and then his grin returns in full force.
“And maybe a little to show off for my bride.” The dimple he shows me nearly melts my heart and soul—not to mention my panties—and I literally shake myself as a reminder it’s not real.
So what if he told me he would do it for orgasms?
He was flirting. He’s being his usual wiseass self and playing to the reporter’s bias.
But any fool can see he’s joking around, right?
He goes on to answer more questions until the coach directs the attention to Jason Hall.
Don’t be foolish, Bianca.