46. Lips Read
46
LIPS READ
Miles
Holy shit.
I’m in the locker room staring at the text message Leighton sent me a couple of minutes ago.
She’s supposed to be outside, snapping photos of the guys arriving, but I’m guessing that’s the last thing on her mind right now. Because she’s marching into the lion’s den—right fucking now.
I want to tell her she’s got this.
That I’ll be there if she needs me.
That I can walk upstairs and explain to her father just how serious I am about his daughter.
But my woman’s decided she needs to do this on her own, and this message is the best thing I’ ve heard in a long time.
Leighton: I can’t wait. Going to talk to him now. Wish me luck.
As I’m typing a hell yes reply, my brother’s voice carries across the locker room. “What’s that look on your face for?”
Tyler’s here early, tugging at his tie. He’s clearly not a fan of the suit walk dress code.
“Leave the tie on,” I instruct. “Leighton wants a pic of both of us. She might be a few minutes late.”
He shoots me a look that says he’s had enough. “Dude. You need to deal with?—”
I hold up a hand, cutting him off. “It’s happening. Right now. The dealing with it.”
His brow shoots up. “Yeah?”
“Yep.”
He offers me a fist for knocking. “Good on you.”
“Thanks,” I say, but it feels strange to sit here doing nothing while she’s upstairs having what’s probably the most intense conversation of her life. I want to be there. To do something. To say something.
Tyler moves closer, sits next to me, lowering his voice. “You’re good with whatever happens?”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “The way I see it, I face off against brutes like you every day on the ice. I can handle this.”
“Handle what?”
Fuck.
That’s Coach. He’s already here.
Tyler’s eyes widen like saucers, and with his back to Coach, he mouths to me, It was nice knowing you .
I swallow hard, forcing myself to get my act together as I meet the cool blue eyes of Coach McBride. “Handle Dallas, sir,” I say, keeping my tone steady.
Coach gives a sharp nod, his expression unreadable. “Good. After you do your promo or whatever it is, I’d like to chat with you.”
Tension slams into me. Did she talk to him that quickly? Is he okay with it? She must’ve moved fast. But maybe…maybe it went okay? He’s a good guy, after all. A great one. He’s the one who helped turn my career around. And his daughter came to him right away to tell him about us—well, as fast as was reasonably possible. He probably appreciated that.
Hope sparks in my chest. “I’ll be there, sir.”
Meanwhile, Tyler is very interested in his phone.
Coach nods again, rapping his knuckles against the doorframe before walking off.
When the coast is clear, Tyler drops the act and bursts out, “What the fuck? Are you the luckiest guy in the world or what?”
“I don’t even know,” I admit, smiling dopily, reeling from surprise. Could it really have gone that well? Maybe it did.
“Did he just find out you’re down bad for Mini Mac One and he’s cool with it?” Tyler whisper-asks, as gobsmacked as I am.
“Stranger things have happened,” I say, trying not to let my hopes get too high, but also letting them.
Seconds later, there are footsteps, and Asher’s voice cuts across the room. “Hey, you slackers. Chanda says to get out there and make it look like you just arrived at work. Leighton’s taking pics of the suit walk. And Little Falcon isn’t wearing his sandals. He can learn,” Asher says, gesturing to Tyler’s feet and his visible socks with…are those illustrations of cat butts with his wingtips? For fuck’s sake. He’s always been a troublemaker.
But I guess today trouble is good.
I grab my coffee cup and head down the corridor so I can look like I just arrived. Leighton’s already there, camera in hand, snapping shots of us like nothing’s out of the ordinary. She’s calm. Composed. Cool as ever. Like she always is behind the camera, where she’s in control.
Yeah, it all went well with her dad.
Ford’s heading down the hall, AirPods in, listening to some audiobook, like he always does before games.
Christian’s striding toward the locker room, poised and confident, a true captain.
Max’s game face is on, like always.
After the photos are done, I head back to the locker room, ready to text Leighton to ask how the talk went, but I spot her in the stairwell, pacing the narrow space, camera still in hand. She looks up when she sees me, relief and hesitation flickering across her face.
I step closer. “What’s going on?”
She stops pacing and exhales. “I was waiting for you. I didn’t want to text this.”
Something about her tone sinks like a stone in my gut. “Tell me what?”
“I didn’t talk to him. He wasn’t alone,” she says quietly, her fingers tightening on the camera strap. “Clementine was in his office.”
My pulse races as my blood chills. “And?”
She swallows hard, locking her eyes on mine like she’s bracing herself. “I heard them—well, saw them talking. The door was cracked open, but it was enough for me to see their faces. They were talking about a trade. ”
The word slams into me like a hit I didn’t see coming. “Who?”
She’s silent for a few seconds too long. “Your name came up, Miles.”
Everything stops. My pulse pounds in my ears as I stare at her. I know trades are always a possibility, but distantly. They don’t groom someone to be co-captain just to trade them. But also, I don’t have a no-trade clause, given that I was picked up on waivers. In a few short years here, I’ve rebuilt my career into a solid, dependable, reliable one, and now…it’s in peril?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you before the game,” she says, her voice small. “But I couldn’t…not tell you.”
I look at her, forcing calm into my voice that I don’t feel. “You did the right thing.”
But I’m not calm at all. I’m reeling. Does Coach…know about us? Is that why he’s thinking of trading me? Did he put two and two together when Leighton told him yesterday that she was staying with me? Then…I go cold everywhere. He must have figured it out for sure when she scheduled breakfast with him.
“Are you okay?” she asks with so much concern it nearly breaks my heart.
I have no idea how to answer, and when I hear Asher calling distantly—“Get your ass on the ice, Falcon”—it’s simply time to go.
“I have to?—”
“I know,” she says.
Then we leave, heading in opposite directions, and that feels like a harbinger.