Page 32 of Puck King
I took a sip of my after-workout protein shake and sat in Everleigh’s chair, putting my feet up on her desk. “Who were you talking to?”
“None of your business.”
For my composed and quick-witted sister, she seemed a little out of sorts. Something was off. She turned the chair and my feet thudded to the floor. “Out,” she barked.
That’s when I noticed what was off. She wasn’t wearing her shoes. My sister always had her expensive designer shoes on, no matter what. I liked to joke that the only reason she didn’t swim in them wasn’t because she’d drown, but because she’d lose them.
I got out of her chair and sat on the edge of her desk, noting the bare feet in the middle of winter, but didn’t say anything. Everleigh had been under a lot of stress, and maybe she had been doing some pacing or yoga stretches or something. Either way, I didn’t care. “Why did you call me up here? I’ve got a romantic walk in Central Park scheduled for an hour from now. That is, if I’m allowed to get to first base yet.”
“Don’t you read anything?” Everleigh groaned. “You’re supposed to get the rumors started to distract from this whole Brittany fiasco, and speculation sells. Keep it mysterious. Keep them talking.”
“I thought sex sold.” I chuckled and swigged my shake.
“Don’t you dare.” She wagged her finger in my face. “I’m not ready to deal with that kind of press just yet. The media has gone along with everything I’ve fed them so far, and I want it to stay that way.” Everleigh took a sip from her glass water bottle. “That’s why I asked you to come up here. I didn’t want to risk this conversation over the phone.”
“Enough with the drama,” I groaned. “What is it now?”
“I’ve taken care of the Brittany scandal. She’s not going to do her tell-all interview.”
I exhaled loudly. “There isn’t anything to tell. I didn’t cheat on her. I sure hope you didn’t give in to her demands, Everleigh. I have nothing to hide.”
“You just worry about the game. I’ll worry about everything else.”
“Is that it?”
Both of our heads turned as the clatter of something falling came from behind the door of her private executive bathroom. “That was probably my hair straightener.” She smoothed her hands down her perfectly flat blond hair. “You better get out of here. I don’t want you to be late for your date.”
I didn’t question Everleigh’s straightener comment. I was already focused on meeting up with Alison.
“Oh, come on. Nice hat.”I almost stopped in my tracks when I saw Alison, who had been waiting for me at the south gate.
She reached to touch the pompom as if to remind herself what she was wearing. “Oh my God. That sister of yours…” She took off the hat and shoved it into the pocket of her puffy coat.
I tugged the hat back out of her pocket. It was identical to the one on my head – blue with the New York Thunder logo on the front, with a big blue and white pompom on top. “It’s cold.” I handed the hat to her, but she didn’t put it on.
“Do you think it’s okay if we’re wearing the same hat?” She traced the logo with her thumb.
“If Everleigh gave it to you, I’d say it’s fair game. Besides, you work for the team and I’m on the team. It’s not a stretch that the two of us would be wearing them. For all anyone knows, it’s part of a uniform.”
“You know your sister doesn’t do anything without meaning.” Alison sighed. “I just want to make sure we’re getting this right.”
“We are.” I took the hat from her hands and put it on her head. She looked up at me and smiled. “It looks better on you than it does on me.” There was something about the way she looked at me that made my insides warm. It was unnerving. “Shall we walk?” I crooked my elbow. “We’re even allowed to hold hands at the end of this one.”
She seemed shy all of a sudden, but slipped her gloved hand into the crook of my arm. Snowflakes swirled in the streetlamps and a horse and buggy clip-clopped by, dropping a load of manure as it passed us.
“At least we don’t have to do that…”
“Tourist trap.” We both said it at the same time and then laughed a little nervously.
The smell of the fresh horse poop followed us for a few more steps and then Ali asked me the question I’d hoped she’d forgotten.
“Colton, how did you fall off your horse?”
It wasn’t something I told many people. I’d made my mom promise not to tell anyone the story either. She’d been with me when it happened, and she had honored that promise for the rest of her life. “It was a dumb accident.”
“Were you thrown? Or did you fall?”
“Do you ride?” Her question was interesting and told me she might know something about horses.
