Page 48 of Mister Hockey
“Sounds good. I really need one of those No Soliciting signs.”
The short, balding guy on her front step wasn’t carrying a pizza. She’d never seen him before in her life.
Maybe his car had broken down?
“You Breezy Angel?” he asked, whipping out a handkerchief to dab it on his balding head. It was hot out here today. The gap between storms had left the air thick and uncharacteristically humid.
“Murphy Hallman, from the Associated Press. I have a few questions.”
Her hand flew to the neck of her bathrobe. Good, no escaped boobs. “Is this about the library branch merger because I don’t have any comments. Well actually I do, but nothing fit to print.”
“Library merger?” The reporter frowned. “No, I’m here about Jed West. Can you make any comments on reports that he plans to retire from the game due to a head injury?”
“Jed? West?” Her voice came out high and tight. How did this reporter know she knew him?
“Shut the door.” Jed’s icy command came from the hall, freezing her whole body.
“Wait a second.” The reporter swiveled his head. “Is he in there?” He raised his voice. “Westy, can you give a comment on—”
Jed emerged from the hall, grim-faced, and slammed the front door in the reporter’s face.
“What the fuck is going on?” He stared ahead, unseeing.
She wasn’t sure if the question was directed at her, or himself, or the guy on the opposite side. He glanced down to her. “How did he know I was here?”
She shrugged. “I was wondering the same thing.”
It took her a second to realize that he was making a careful study of her face.
“I’m serious,” she said, bristling. “It’s not like I’m posting status updates about you on Facebook. If you don’t believe me you’re welcome to take a look. I think my last post was some random Buzzfeed article on the 100 Books to Read On A Desert Island.”
“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 ofme?”
“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...”
