Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Evelyn’s gaze lifts, filling with curiosity. “Of course. You can ask me anything.”
The question feels clumsy on my tongue. “Why didn’t you ever marry again after your husband died?”
For a moment, she says nothing. The quiet of her office presses in, broken only by the faint ticking of a distant clock. When she finally speaks, her voice is measured. It’s the kind of tone people use when they’re handling something fragile.
“One marriage was enough.” Her eyes go distant, fixed on something past the glass wall, something only she can see. “Love rarely works the way people expect. Sometimes it only comes around once. And even then, it can be complicated.”
Her honesty catches me off guard. There’s no regret in it, just experience. A quiet ache she’s learned to live with.
I sit still, afraid that any movement will break the spell.
With an exhale, she reaches for a new document, composure sliding seamlessly back into place. “Now, about the press conference tomorrow. You’ll be there?”
“I was already planning on it,” I say quickly, grateful for her candor. “I’ll make sure everything’s set up and goes off without a hitch.”
“Good.” Her attention flicks back to her notes, the topic dismissed as smoothly as it was opened.
I glance at my phone where it sits face down on my knee, knowing full well those messages are still waiting for me.
Deep down, I realize exactly what needs to happen when it comes to Oliver.
So why does the thought of ending it tear me apart in ways I can’t explain?
16
Oliver
Cameras flash as we take our seats behind the long table at the front of the press room. Steele, River, Laiken, Knox, Jax, Zane, and I are the players chosen to represent the team. We’re all dressed in suits. Laiken tugs at his collar before leaning toward the microphone in front of him. Water bottles glint beneath the lights like evidence on display.
Zane leans back, flashing a grin at the crowd. “I’ll probably be the one fielding all the questions. You know, since I’m the face of the franchise and all.”
Steele doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re the face of something, all right. But it isn’t the franchise.”
Laughter ripples down the line.
Even Laiken’s mouth twitches.
Jax elbows River. “How much do you want to bet he practices that smile in the mirror?”
“Damn right I do,” Zane fires back, too wrapped up in himself to realize it was a jab.
I take a sip of water to hide a smile. They’ll keep needling him because he makes it so damn easy.
There’s a routine to these events. Small talk and canned charm as the press waits to pounce on anything worth printing.
The moderator clears his throat. “We’ll start with a few questions.”
The first ones are softballs.
“How’s the team shaping up this season?”
Steele goes into captain mode, his response calm and clipped. “We’ve got depth, speed, and guys who know how to grind. We like where we’re at.”
Another one follows.
“Jax, you’re new to Chicago. How’s the transition been?”
Jax leans in with effortless swagger. “Actually, I’m loving it. The guys have been great, and the fans are unreal. I can’t wait to see what we do this year.”
The easy tempo holds, filled with banter, laughter, and flashes until the moderator glances toward River. The atmosphere shifts as cameras tilt forward.
“River, has your engagement caused any tension in the locker room, considering your fiancée was previously with your teammate?”
Every head turns in his direction.
River’s jaw flexes once before he answers. “None at all. Zane and I are professionals. Whatever’s in the past stays there. Our only focus is on winning.”
Zane raises both hands. “See? No hard feelings here. I’m the bigger man in this situation.”
He winks at the cameras, and laughter ripples, thin and brittle this time.
Then the moderator’s gaze lands on me. “Oliver, would you like to comment on your personal life? You’ve been keeping a low profile lately.”
The noise fades to static as every camera lens locks on me, waiting for a response. They want a quote. Something they can spin.
The standard lines sit perched on the tip of my tongue.
I’m focused on hockey or just trying to be the best teammate I can be.
It’s tempting to toss one of them out and keep things tidy.
Safe.
Forgettable.
But I’m so goddamn tired of hiding behind that script.
The truth is, I’m not thinking about hockey right now. I’m thinking about Rina and how she’s been avoiding me for days. How I’ve let her walk away every time instead of stopping her. I’ve spent half my life keeping things light and surface level, focused on hockey.
And what has it gotten me?
A lonely penthouse and a woman who thinks I have no idea how to be serious, loyal, and trustworthy.
Maybe it’s time to change that perception.
I lean toward the microphone, my fingers tightening around the plastic water bottle until it creaks. “Actually, there is someone.”