Mister Hockey (Hellions Angels #1)(43)

“It’s okay, I believe you.” He peered through her curtains. “But he’s not leaving. I got to make a few calls. My agent. Coach.”

The illusion of a cocoon faded. He went into her room and she heard him speaking in low, measured tones. She sank onto her couch and turned on her phone, stomach fluttery with nerves. Nerves that stomped around her insides like elephants once the notifications exploded on her screen. At least a dozen were from Neve, in varying stages of alarm. She had thirty-nine messages on Facebook. What the hell? Her barely used Twitter account had two hundred and three mentions.

A car pulled up. Then another. Doors slamming. By the time Jed returned to the living room four people were milling at the edge of her front yard. A news camera was being set up. Across the street, neighbors stood, slack jawed, on their front porches, probably wondering if she was a serial killer.

Some introduction to the neighborhood.

“Yeah, of course I checked online,” Jed said into his phone. “This is all over the goddamn internet. No, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to come down here. Okay. I see your point. Audra said the same thing, but fuck.” He made a fist and punched his leg. “I wanted to control this, Coach. My decision. My rules. My timeline.” He went silent, nodding at whoever was talking. “Sounds good, see you soon.”

He hung up and didn’t move. A small muscle twitching in his jaw was the only sign that anything was amiss.

“Was that Tor?” She knew Jed was close to the Hellions head coach but hadn’t met him yet. “Is he—”

“Breezy.” His voice was soft, but his eyes were dark. “You have a calendar of me in a box in the corner of your room. Care to explain?”

She wasn’t afraid, per se. But good lord, he was intimidating. If this is how it felt to go up against him on the ice, she was surprised people didn’t flee, skating as fast as they could in the opposite direction.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach.

While she was holed up at Jed’s place, Daisy had stopped by and dropped off the box she’d forgotten at her old library desk. Of course, there had been the Jed West calendar. Not to mention her beloved coffee cup.

“Um.” The truth pressed on all sides, smashing her like a shit sandwich. “Yes.”

“You had a calendar and coffee cup of me?”

“All from before I knew you.” Her words fell over themselves. “Just a little joke. At work, they knew I was a hockey fan and so for Christmas presents that is the kind of thing I got . . .”

“You’re a hockey fan.” A muscle she’d never seen before ticked right where his lower jaw hinged to the upper one.

“I mean, like I said before, my whole family is—”

“You conveniently left yourself out of that equation,” he said tonelessly.

She swallowed hard, because he wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t have the first clue how to make her omission less creepy. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

“You look confused.” His eyes glittered. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I get it. I’m confused too. Confused why the fuck there is also a life-size cardboard cutout of me in your closet, Breezy. And a poster. And a bunch of other stuff with my face stamped on it.”

Oh God. He found her hidden trove of Westy paraphernalia. He must think she was like Blackbeard or something.

“I can explain.” Her heart beat so hard that her vision was pulsing. “I can explain everything.”

“Nah, don’t bother.” He held up a hand. “I was in your room, talking to my agent, and then my coach, about the fact that someone leaked the fact that I’m considering retirement. That I have a head injury and that it’s caused problems. But the thing that I’m blindingly aware of is that the only person that I talked about this with was you.”

“Wait . . .” Her brain tried to grasp what he was saying. “You think that I . . .” She licked her dry lips and tried again. “You think that I went to the press?”

As if on cue, her front door banged open and Neve burst in, her normally sleek ponytail gathered into an unruly messy bun. “Why aren’t you answering your phone? I swear to God, I leave town to cover a few measly basketball games and everything goes to hell in a handbasket. What are you doing, Westy? First, my mom fills me that it’s my little sister, then an hour ago all Twitter was in on the gig. Now, there’s a shit storm brewing online with your name in the eye of.” Her brow crinkled. “Is it true that you’re retiring? Or is this one of those tempest-in-a-teapot rumors?”

“Don’t know.” Jed stared straight ahead. His phone rang again.

“You want to answer that?” Neve quizzed.

Jed shook his head. “It’s my publicist again. I don’t want to talk to her.”

Breezy bit the inside of her cheek. He wasn’t even looking at her. The fact he knew about her fandom hidden in her closet was bad, but worse was not being entirely sure what disaster was about to come crashing down on their heads. Her tummy picked up on seismic shifts below the surface. The only question was how bad the earthquake was going to be, how much damage would occur.

“Ha.” His unexpected laugh came out a sharp bark. “I got to say, I’m impressed.” He gave a slow mocking clap. “You two should take this show on the road. The Angel Sisters, Live in Vegas.”