Page 38 of Scoring Slater
"Tea or alcohol?"
"Both." He rolled his head from side to side, and blew out a long breath. "It's been a day."
Slater followed him into the kitchen. They moved together, concocting tea, whiskey, lemon and honey. Then sat side by side at the island while the tea steeped.
"Since we're sitting here waiting…" Slater picked up his phone. "Text from Leo. He and the guys are sorry we had to deal with that person following us. They want to make sure we’re okay. Celek is apparently volunteering to pick us up tomorrow if we’re hesitant to drive to practice."
"Tell him thanks, but I think we’ll be okay. We can take my car instead. We’ve been driving yours for the past few weeks. Time to switch things up."
"Good idea." He responded to Leo, then opened the app and pulled up the picture of them he'd posted the previous week. His favorite so far of the hundreds of photos he'd shared to his account. "Look. It's us."
Noah's smile said he was humoring Slater, because this wasn't the first time—more like the fifth—Slater had shown him the photo over the week, but he glanced at the screen. "It is us."
Scrolling through the post's notifications, one of the most recent caught his attention.Inspo TV has shared your post.
He clicked on their account, and his eyes bulged as he read the words under the photo. The choked noise from his right told him that Noah had seen it too.
"Something special is coming soon from hockey's hottest new couple?" Noah's sharp tone read the entertainment channel's comment like a question. "What the hell, Slater? What's going on? Why do they have my name there too?"
Anger—at the channel, at the situation—surged to overtake the shock tingling through his body. "I don't know. I didn't tell them that you would be on the show with me. Maybe they just assumed."
Noah's fist tapped against his thigh, over and over and he kept shaking his head. "I didn't sign up for that."
"I know."
"I can't do that."
"I told you I wouldn't force you."
"You need to fix it."
"I will."
Noah stood and picked up his mug. "I don't want to be on display like that."
"Iknow." He dropped his phone. It hit the mug. Tea sloshed over the rim and splashed the screen. Slater jumped up and wiped it against his jeans.
Noah blew out a breath. He dragged a hand over his face, then through his hair. "I think I'm going to read for a while."
Slater watched him walk away. Seconds after he'd left the kitchen, his bedroom door closed.
He set the phone down and rubbed circles on his pounding temples. If this was what it was like now, how would Noah be when the time came and cameras were around? Would he need to rent another place and pretend it was his apartment? Rent another space and actually move? The thought of leaving Noah made his insides feel hollow. How could he not have Noah on the show at all, when the man was such an important and huge part of his life? It wasn't like he would be able to pretend that Noah didn't exist.
He also didn't want to give up the show. He knew all too well from what happened to Dylan that one hit, one injury could end a career. He played a physical game, and doled out more hits and got into more fights than most players. He doubted his career would be a long one. Planning for what came after was smart, turning down opportunities wasn't.
Maybe he was getting ahead of himself. Filming was still five months away.
A message alert chimed and he glanced down. A message from Kelsey.
Kelsey: Home safe?
Damn it, he'd forgotten.
Slater: Yeah. Sorry, forgot to text.
Kelsey: No worries. How's Noah?
Slater: Very… Noah.
