She didn’t just like sleeping with Brody. The sex was wild, passionate, all-consuming. When he kissed her, when he wrapped those big, muscular arms around her, the ground beneath her feet fell away, her body sizzled like asphalt in a heat wave and her heart soared higher than a fighter jet.
When Doug kissed her...none of those things happened. His kisses were sweet and tender, and she really did like them—damn, there was that word again.
“Hayden, are you there?”
She forced her mind back to the moment, to this conversation she’d been putting off for too long. “Sorry, I just spaced out for a second. What were you saying?”
“I want to come visit you in Chicago.”
She nearly dropped the phone. “What? Why?”
“I keep thinking about what you said when we last spoke. I know you asked for space, but...” A heavy breath resonated from the other end of the line. “I think space will only lead to distance, and the last thing I want is distance between us. Maybe if I come out there, maybe if we sat down together and talked this through, we could figure out why you’re feeling the way you are.”
“Doug...” She searched for the right thing to say. Was there even a right thing? “This is something I need to figure out on my own.”
“I’m part of this, too,” he pointed out.
“I know, but...”
Tell him about Brody.
Fuck. Why did her conscience have to chime in right now? She already felt shitty enough, sleeping with a man a few short weeks after telling her ex she needed space. Could she really confess her sins, now, when Doug was so eager to patch things up between them?
You don’t have a choice.
As much as she wanted to fight her conscience, she knew that stern voice was right. She couldn’t hide something this important from him. He needed to know. No, he deserved to know.
“I’ve been seeing someone,” she blurted out.
Dead silence filled the car.
“Doug?”
A muffled cough sounded. “Pardon me?”
“I’m seeing someone. Here, in Chicago.” She swallowed. “It hasn’t been long, and it’s nothing serious, but I think you should know.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s... It doesn’t matter who he is. And I want you to know that I didn’t plan on this. When I asked for space, the last thing I wanted was to jump into another relationship—”
“Relationship?” He sounded upset. “I thought you said it wasn’t serious.”
“I did. I mean, it’s not.” She tried to control her voice, feeling so unbelievably guilty it was hard to get out the next words. “It just sort of...happened.” When he didn’t say anything, the pretzel of guilt in her chest tightened into a vise around her heart. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here.” He spoke curtly. “Thank you for telling me.”
Her throat tightened. “Doug...” She trailed off, not sure what to say. Not sure there was anything else to say.
“I have to go, Hayden,” he said after a long pause. “I can’t talk to you right now. I need time to digest all this.”
“I understand.” She gulped, bringing much-needed moisture to her arid mouth. “Call me when you’re ready to...”
To what? Forgive her? Yell at her?
“To talk,” she finished awkwardly.
He hung up without saying goodbye, and she shoved her phone back into her purse and leaned against the driver’s seat, raking both hands through her hair.
Between Sheila and Doug, she felt as if she’d spent the afternoon waving a red flag in front of a bull determined to gore her to pieces.
At least nobody could call her a coward.
TWENTY-FOUR
The atmosphere in the locker room was subdued, the usual pregame chatter absent as the players changed into their gear and spoke in hushed voices to one another. Brody would’ve liked to blame the serious mood on nerves; the series was 3–2, and once again, they needed a win to stay alive. But he knew it wasn’t the pressure that was weighing everyone down.
Fifteen minutes earlier, a league executive had informed the team that an investigation into the bribery claims was officially underway. Players would be interviewed privately starting Monday of next week, and if the allegations bore any weight, proper disciplinary actions would be taken.
And possible criminal charges executed.
Lacing up his skates, Brody glanced discreetly at his team captain, who was adjusting his shin pads. Wyatt hadn’t spoken one word since the announcement, his sharp features furrowed with silent concern, his big body moving clumsily as he dressed. He was visibly worried.
Fuck. Winning this game tonight was going to be tough. The morale was lower than the murky depths of the ocean, all his teammates behaving as if individual axes were hovering over their heads.
Which one of them had taken a bribe? And was it only one?
For all he knew, half the guys could be involved. The notion caused his blood to boil. You had to be a real fucking asshole to deliberately throw a game. The media claimed only one or two games had been fixed, and early in the season, but it didn’t matter to Brody when or how many. All it took was one game. One loss could be the difference between making the playoffs and ending the season in defeat. It was a good thing they’d played well enough to make up for those early losses.
