Page 42 of Offside Secrets
I’m still smiling when I hear footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate.
Victor Lawson rounds the corner.
My stomach drops. Of course he’s here. Because apparently the universe can’t let me have five uninterrupted seconds of post-makeout bliss.
He doesn’t say anything at first, he simply lets his gaze skim over me—hair, lips, the bag clutched to my chest like a lifeline. It’s all the confirmation he needs, and the smug tilt of his mouth tells me he knows it. Or at least thinks he does.
“Well, I thought I heard voices,” he finally says, voice silk and smoke. “You look like you’ve been busy tonight.”
I tug at my blazer, willing my cheeks to cool, wishing I didn’t feel like I had “Just kissed Campbell Stockton” stamped across my forehead. “It was a long night. I’m tired.”
Victor hums, the sound low and knowing, like he’s filing this away to pull out later. He taps the down arrow and stands, waiting for the elevator to reappear.
“Thought I heard your captain a moment ago,” he says, somehow making the question sound like a threat.
“Mmmm.” Yep. That’s my formal reply, because I really do not know what to say.
We stand this way for what feels like all eternity but in reality was probably a few seconds. The silence stretches just long enough for my skin to prickle, and honestly, why am I choosing to not walk away right now? No, it seems I’m frozen. Like a statue, but I’m holding myself up and keeping my posture perfect, because I’m still me. And I do not want to run away from this man like I was the one who was doing something horrible.
Then the elevator dings.
Victor glances at it, then back at me, his smirk deepening. Without another word, he strolls inside.
The doors slide shut, leaving me alone in the hallway with dessert, kiss-swollen lips, and the sinking certainty that Victor Lawson never misses a thing.
That kiss? It tasted like spring mornings and roses.
This moment now? Well, it feels like storm clouds are gathering.
CHAPTER 15
CAMPBELL
The text from Ben comes in early, a few minutes after my 6:00 a.m. alarm sounds off, three days after we get back from Harrisburg. I’m already awake, sprawled in bed and staring at the ceiling like it might have answers. News flash: it does not.
It’s been announced, The Dominion are officially a team. Scouts confirmed for Thursday’s game. Alexandria’s assistant GM said they’re coming to watch the team, but are here to see you specifically. Don’t screw it up.
I stare at my phone screen until the words blur together. NHL scouts. Here to see me. Thursday—which is in two days.
This is it. Everything I’ve worked for since I was eight years old, skating on frozen ponds and dreaming of the big leagues. Everything Dad sacrificed for, driving me to practices at dawn and tournaments on weekends we couldn’t afford. Everything we need right now, with his medical bills piling up and his arthritis getting worse.
My phone buzzes again. This time it’s Sawyer.
Did Ben or Cannon text you?
Yeah.
Dude. This is huge. Alexandria’s been scouting the whole league.
I know.
You nervous?
Am I nervous? My hands are shaking, my heart’s hammering against my ribs, and I can’t seem to form a coherent thought that doesn’t involve either throwing up or jumping out of my skin.
Nah. Just another game.
