Page 6 of The Slapshot and the Single Mom
He waves that aside. “I don’t need you buying me a drink.”
“But—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off with another wave of his hand.
“That’s not why I accepted your offer.” His mouth presses into a firm line. “You said on the phone that you wanted to apologize. I’d like to hear your apology.”
I squirm in my seat, suddenly realizing I may have already stepped in it. “You have to understand?—”
One of his brows lifts, causing my words to die on my lips.
“What is it that I have to understand?”
Shaking my head, I let out a frustrated breath. The waitress comes with our drinks, buying me a minute to gather my thoughts again. WhatdoI want him to understand? That it’s not my fault. Brock’s take is indefensible, after all. I can’t say Brock didn’t mean it like that or that it’s all some kind of misunderstanding.
Once the waitress leaves, I toy with my glass, spinning it on the coaster branded with a salmon logo. “I had no idea he was going to go that route,” I say after a long moment passes and Jack sips his drink, looking the picture of calm. “He usually runs his ideas by me—and he did with this one, at least the original idea—but he did this all on his own.”
Jack smirks, and as attractive as he is, it’s not a nice smile. “I see,” he says at length. “So this is a CYA meeting.”
Confused, I shake my head. “No, no. I’m not trying to?—”
“Aren’t you?” he asks. He gestures at the bar. “You offered to buy me a drink, after all. To apologize, didn’t you say?”
When all I can do is gape at him, mouth hanging open, he plants one forearm on the table, leaning toward me and lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Look, Maggie—it’s Maggie, right?” I nod. “Maggie. I understand your concern. In your shoes, I might be worried too.”
“It’s not just that,” I butt in, chewing my lower lip. His eyes flit to my mouth, and I force myself to stop, clearing my throat. “It’s not just that,” I repeat. “Granted, I will admit it occurred to me that I might be making a tactical error meeting you and discussing this.”
His eyebrows lift again, and he sips his drink, still outwardly radiating calm. But his jaw ticks every so often, giving away thefact that he’s fucking pissed. And who can blame him? I would be too. Hell, Iampissed.
Shaking my head, I sip my drink. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. And that if I could’ve stopped him, I would’ve. But Brock doesn’t listen to anyone but himself.”Just like Kyle,I add in my head. Somehow I’ve ended up dealing with the same sort of overgrown man-child. Well, notexactlythe same. Brock’s more honest about it than Kyle ever was. Kyle liked to pretend he was self-sufficient and independent. Of course, that all fell apart the minute I walked out. The first week he had Liam all to himself, he texted me constantly asking a million questions. I entertained him that first week. After that, I told him that it’s no longer my job to hold his hand and help him be a parent. He needed to figure out how to relate to Liam on his own.
Jack’s expression softens, the hard set to his jaw relaxing. “I appreciate that, Maggie. I believe you.”
We sit in silence for a moment, and I sip my drink, studying him while he stares at the table. “What are you going to do?” I ask eventually.
He brings his eyes to mine, his forced smile now looking resigned more than angry, and he shakes his head. “Like you, I acted on instinct rather than logic calling you in the first place. I shouldn’t be here any more than you should. For now, I’m going to let Molly, the head of the Emeralds’ PR team, do her job. Like she told me to. After that?” He shrugs. “I guess it depends on what happens.” With that, he drains his drink and stands. “Sorry for being so abrupt, but I need to go. Enjoy your drink, Maggie. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
He strides away without a backwards glance, leaving me sitting at the booth, unsure what to do with myself. Sighing, I sip mydrink and order a plate of loaded waffle fries when the waitress comes by to check on me. If I’m going to be out by myself, I might as well enjoy it, right?
CHAPTER FOUR
Jack
It takes far longerthan I’d like—over a week—but Molly manages to get that video taken down. Too many people saw it, though. And as much as Coach Bowers, Molly, and my teammates have all reassured me that they know I’m not responsible for our loss in the second round, the amount of hate mail I’ve gotten has increased substantially and a couple of companies I have endorsement deals with are making noises about canceling my contract.
“This is bullshit,” I tell my agent, Max O’Connor, for what has to be the hundredth time this conversation. “I didn’t fuckingdoanything. I didn’t even have a beer at home in my underwear that week! And I definitely didn’t show up to the game drunk or hungover like Savage implied. Forward everyone copies of the game tape! Bowers wrote a letter stating that I’m an asset to the team and part of the reason we made it as far as we did. How could I be the fuckup Savage painted me asandhave the third highest points on the team this season?”
It’s bad enough that two of my corporate sponsors are making noises that they’re unhappy with me and wanting to cancel my contract. The thing that really pisses me off is that the cancer foundation that helped my mom a few years ago when she was battling breast cancer is saying they don’t want me to be the face of their next fundraising campaign. While I like the money I get from endorsements, I can survive without that. If they cancel their contracts, it’d suck, but I’d eventually get more once this all blows over. But the cancer foundation? That’s personal. And that jackass Savage fucking that up pisses me off the most.
“I know, Jack,” Max says, making a quelling motion with his hands. I growl in response, and he stops, putting his hands on his desk, out of sight of his camera for the video call. He sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Look, Jack. I can’t make any real promises. I’m doing my best for you, though. I always do. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” I answer, my tone gruff. I’m still pissed. That fucking asshole. “What are my options?”
Max doesn’t say anything for a moment, his lips pursed as he stares off to the side. He lets out another sigh. “Let’s see if I can talk everyone around. You know I’m a charmer.” He gives me a cheesy grin that makes me roll my eyes. “No need to plan for worst case scenarios yet, okay?”
Sighing, I nod. “Okay.”
“I’ve got another meeting, though, so I’ll talk to you later, Jack. Hang tight, keep your nose clean. I’ll keep you updated on any news.”
“Thanks, Max.”
