Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Toni Amato
My phone buzzes while I wait for the elevator.
Talia: Surviving?
Toni: Define surviving.
Talia: Did hockey Ken doll commit violence yet?
Toni: Multiple penalties.
Talia: HOT.
Toni: You are part of the problem.
Talia: I’m actually several problems.
I stare at the text shaking my head. I don’t breathe properly again until I’m in my car.
Max Stevens.
Of all the players, he had to be the name my boss put on my clipboard as my assignment this morning. New hires get the problem players. That’s just how it works. It could have been anyone else.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I merge into traffic, the city blurring past in streaks of light and steel.
“Of course,” I whisper under my breath. “Of course it’s him.”
My apartment is quiet when I walk in. Too quiet. Everything sits exactly where it should. Nothing like the version of me that existed two years ago.
I slip off my heels and drop my bag on the counter, pressing my back against it.
This is the career I built from scratch, on my father’s terms, and then on mine.
As if I conjured it by my thoughts, text from Dad.
“Proud of you, kid. First NHL assignment’s a big deal. Remember: perception matters.”
OK Daddy.
After Rockford, I didn’t fall apart. I got disciplined. Finished school early. Took every certification the league required. I’m building a reputation.
It leaves no room for him.
The door swings open before I even reach it.
Elena Russo doesn’t knock so much as announce her presence.
She steps inside like she belongs here, all effortless confidence and muted elegance.
Dark, glossy hair falls over one shoulder in loose waves.
She’s dressed in a cream sweater, fitted jeans, and flats.
On her, it reads like it’s out of a magazine spread instead of an outfit pulled from a closet ten minutes ago.
There’s a softness to her at first glance that makes lying to her a waste of time. She’s the only person I’ve ever completely confided in about Rockford. Talia is never good with the emotional part.
“You’re home early,” she says, stepping inside with a bottle of wine already in hand. “Which means something went wrong.”
I huff out a breath. “That obvious?”
She studies me for half a second. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
I let out a muted laugh. “Worse.”
That gets her attention. She sets the wine on the counter and leans back against it, crossing her arms.
“Okay,” she says. “Start talking.”
I hesitate. Because saying his name out loud makes this real. But she’s the only one I told. “It’s him,” I say.
Her brows draw together. “Rockford him?”
I nod.
“Max.” Recognition flashes instantly. “The hockey player.”
“You mean the problematic player,” I clarify.
“The one you pretend didn’t matter,” she counters.
I ignore that.
“They assigned me to him.”
Silence drops between us for a beat. “Oh, that’s bad.”
I stare at the wall, nodding. “Yeah.”
Elena tilts her head. “And how did he react?”
His eyes locked onto mine. He stilled in his tracks. I’d knocked the air out of him. “He recognized me,” I answer. “And?”
“And nothing,” I lie. “I handled it.”
Her expression says she doesn’t believe me for a second. “Toni.”
Turning, I take two glasses. “It was two years ago,” I say. “It doesn’t matter.”
Elena doesn’t move. “Then why do you look like that?”
I freeze. Because I don’t have a suitable answer. She softens, her voice gentler now.
“You never told me everything about that night,” she says. “Just that you left before morning.”
I swallow. “I had to.”
“Had to,” she repeats. “Or wanted to?”
I close my lids briefly. “Had I stayed, I wouldn’t have gone.” The truth of it settles in.
Elena is subdued for a beat. “And now?” she asks.
Now he’s everywhere again. My body remembers his touch; I worked hard to forget it. My job connects directly to him. The one thing I never compromise on. “I can’t do that again,” I say.
“You mean let someone in?”
“I mean risk everything.” I turn back to her. “This job isn’t Rockford. I’m not an assistant anymore. I’m not invisible.”
“You’re important now,” she nods.
“Yes.”
“And that scares you.”
“No,” I correct. “Losing it does.”
Elena regards me for a long moment. Then she pours the wine and hands me a glass. “You know what I think?” she says.
I take it, bracing myself.
“I think you’re less afraid of losing your job…” she pauses.
“…and more afraid of him not wanting you the same way this time.”
The words hit too close. “That’s not—”
“He mattered,” she cuts in gently. “You don’t walk away from an encounter that intense unless it mattered.”
I stare down at the wine. “I followed the rules. They were new rules at the time, and I couldn’t surrender to temptation.”
“And how did that work out for you?” I don’t answer. Because the truth is sitting heavily in my ribcage. She leans her hip against the counter, expression tight on me. “Tell me something,” she says. “What did you do when you found out he made the NHL?”
My throat tightens. “I was in the library,” I admit. “Someone posted a clip.” I can still see it. Max grinning like he owned the world. “I told myself I was happy for him.”
“And?”
“I watched every game I could find.”
Elena’s brows lift. “Every game?”
I top off my wine. “It was research.”
She laughs. “Of course it was.”
I shake my head. “I tracked his stats. His penalties. Every time he got into trouble.”
“Every time he got hurt?” she adds. I don’t respond. I don’t have to. Elena pushes off the counter, stepping closer. “This isn’t over for you.” She places her palm on my shoulder.
“It has to be.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.” I’m speaking with more conviction now. Because I need it to be true. “There are lines I don’t cross. Not anymore.”
She holds my gaze until I stop holding hers. Then nods. “Okay.” But I can tell she doesn’t believe me.
Later that night, after she leaves, I sit alone on the couch. The city glows outside my window. As I look around me, everything in my life is exactly where I worked to put it. But Max Stevens just walked back into it. And nothing about him has ever been safe.