Page 54 of Mister Hockey
Maybe she’d called? Maybe he should nut up and call her. He turned on his phone, checking his voice mail. By the time the screen powered on, he’d made a decision. He’d dial her up, ask to meet and talk things over. She deserved that much.
There were four new voice mails. Two from his agent. One from his publicist. But it was the third name on the list that froze the blood in his veins.
“Shit.” It was like someone Windexed the grime off his brain and the truth shown.
His arm holding the phone, dropped limply to his side. The street might not even exist.
He’d gotten everything wrong. Royally screwed the pooch.
No, those were just statements of fact. They didn’t come close to describing his fuck up. He’d just crashed and burned so hard that he should be nothing but a few splinters of bone, some singed hair. He resumed walking, picking up the pace, as if he could move faster than the avalanche of regret bearing down on him.
Breezy hadn’t done shit. And he’d accused her with all the self-righteousness of an Old Testament God. He could barely focus. His body ached to move. Run. But even as his feet pounded the concrete, breath tearing from his chest, a single question chased him.
What the hell was he going to do now?
Chapter Nineteen
For the next few days, social media had a field day with the news of Jed’s surprise retirement. His image was everywhere, in the form of career montages and old interview clips. Every time she glimpsed his face it punched another hole in Breezy’s stomach.
It was impossible to venture online or read a paper. Instead, Breezy tried to find solace in her favorite place on Earth—her bed. But even reading eluded her. She was unable to escape into make-believe.
This wasn’t a book slump. It was a bone-crushing pain.
After a busy morning talking to real estate agents and visiting banks and putting together the first stage of her plan, she went to her closet and yanked out the cardboard Jed West cutout.
“Why don’t you call me?” she snapped.
He stared at a fixed point with that stupidly perfect smile.
“Look. I can’t callyou. Not when you’re so mad at me. The last thing I want to do is have you not believe me.”
She sighed.
“I know. I lied to you, or at least hung out in that gray area of omission. I guess that I felt stupid if you knew I was a fan. I was afraid you’d dismiss me, or think I was desperate. A pathetic bookworm who believes in fairy tales and fantasizes about a prince. Actually... it’s sort of our story, but it’s more than that. Just like you are more than the guy everyone cheers for on game nights.”
She dabbed the corner of her eyes. “Anyway, speaking of pathetic, I should stop having a long one-sided discussion with a piece of sexy cardboard.” She regarded the cutout for a long moment before making a decision. “This will hurt me more than it will hurt you.”
She marched to the kitchen and yanked a garbage bag from the roll beneath the sink. Back in her bedroom, she folded the cutout in half and stuck the sucker inside. The poster met the same fate as did her calendar, the Westy bobblehead and other assorted trinkets.
It wasn’t that she wanted to trash Jed, just to bid a firm farewell to the time of her life that had loved the myth more than the man.
The part that no longer existed.
Outside her window, an old Jeep Wagoneer parked. Neve’s car. Breezy drew in a ragged breath as her sister climbed out of the SUV and strode up the front yard with her purposeful gait, fear retreated.
“Hey girl.” Her sister came through the front door. “Ready to go? We have a big day.”
“First up, party,” Breezy said. She had to compartmentalize if she wanted to make it through everything they had planned.
“Then podcast,” Never concluded firmly. “Let’s go.”
Breezy was going to make an announcement at Granny Dee’s ninetieth birthday party. And later, an announcement of a different variety.
But she couldn’t think about that yet, not if she didn’t want to pass out from nerves.
When she and Neve entered Aunt Shell’s house, the party was in full swing. The living room filled with people as well as ninety purple glitter balloons, Granny Dee’s favorite color. Breezy waited until the end of dinner before hitting her wineglass with a fork.
“Everyone? Can I have your attention?”
