The Romance Line (Love and Hockey Book 2)

Everly

This is all my fault. This is exactly how people get caught. I was careless. I was caught up in the euphoria of being in love, and I let down my guard. Yes, Max kissed me outside my home this morning, and that was risky enough, but it’s also far away from the office. But to let Max take me to work this early?

That was a rookie mistake.

I can’t move. My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and my heart is pricked with needles. For a long, terrible minute, I feel like I’m sinking in quicksand. I don’t know what to do or where to go. All I can do is watch as Elias sails off into the arena, la-di-da-ing his way inside on a cloud of blackmail and smiles.

I try to shake off this funk. I have a job to do. I can’t let him throw me off. I can’t go into the Zoom call all shook up because of that little man. I take a deep breath and catalog my surroundings. I’m standing in front of the Sea Dogs arena. The door is made of glass.

Beyond it, the signs for concessions are visible. Buses rumble by a hundred feet behind me. When I grab the door, the cool metal is reassuring in my hand.

There. That’s better. I can do this and move forward.

I walk inside, picturing the ice rink that sits below this level, where the team fights to win every goddamn game.

Fight.

That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to fight for my job, sooner than I’d planned. I won’t let Elias scare me because I’m good at what I do. That means I have to take a meeting right now because that’s part of the job.

I pass Jenna’s cubicle on the way to my office, and she gives me a cheery wave. “Everly, I have the research you asked for before the interview Max has with Erin later today.”

She’s here early too? She’s not usually here before nine. Did she see me outside as well? But then I talk back to my worries— You know who to trust. You can trust her. You can’t trust Elias. You’ve never been able to. “Thanks, Jenna. I appreciate all you do,” I say.

I head into my office, close the door, and log into the call. I shut off everything else as I focus on the Zoom with the team in Boston about some joint press coverage for the upcoming game.

When that’s done, I grab my phone, leave my office, and walk down the hall. The corridor is concrete. The walls are covered with framed photos of the Sea Dogs. At the end of the hall is my boss’s office.

I catalog one more thing—my pulse.

It’s calmer because I’m not waiting any longer. I won’t have the weekend to rehearse. I can’t practice with my friends. Sometimes, you just have to jump into the fray.

Without a plan, without a strategy, without anything but guts, I walk into my boss’s suite.

Her assistant flashes me a bright smile from his desk outside the door. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Trevor. I need to see Zaire today,” I say, then add a smile. “Could I please get on her schedule as soon as she’s free?”

“She’s out of the office this morning at an appointment,” he says, and I have no idea what that means—if it’s personal, if it’s business, or if it’s something else entirely. But it’s not for me to know. I simply tell him I’ll take the next free slot on her schedule.

“That’ll be three-thirty,” he says. That’s a lifetime from now, but I take it. At least it’s before Elias has said he’ll drop his picture online.

I return to my office and text Max about what happened, telling him I’ll share the rest when he’s done with morning skate and we head to the interview.

I feel calmer—maybe because I’m not in this alone. Then, I flip open my laptop and get to work on a plan for that meeting.