Page 34 of Hooking
It’s been twelve weeks since I’ve seen Cassidy. Twelve weeks since we hired a PI to dig into Natasha’s pregnancy. Twelve weeks since Natasha’s been living with me and causing the biggest headache of my fucking life.
Again, it started this morning with her moving my shit. I’m a man of routine and placement of things, yet every morning, it seems little Miss I’m Nesting, moves my belongs. The biggest items being my wallet and keys.
Which is why I’m late walking into the arena to prepare for our last preseason game. I walk into the locker room, annoyed as hell that I’m behind on my pregame rituals. Brooks is sitting on the bench next to me as I aggressively remove my suit jacket, before yanking my tie loose.
“Let me guess, she moved your keys again,” he says, with a smirk as he laces up his skates. “You should put an air tag on that shit. That way, you’ll never miss where they are.”
I huff out a sarcastic laugh as I dress for warmups. “That, or I track down Talya and see if she’s heard anything more from the PI. I can’t take this anymore man. I want my life back.”
Brooks sends a sympathetic look my way before getting up and continuing to dress. “I get it, man. But what if this isn’t some sort of set up? What if it was all as real as it is right now?”
“Then I would just have to accept it,” I say, in frustration. “Cassidy will never talk to me again.”
“She’s going through her own shit right now, man.”
Yeah. I get it. Your fiancé cheats on you, and then the guy you take a chance on turns out to be a lying scumbag who can’t tell you he had a child on the way. That’s more than enough shit to go around. Yet, I want her. I need her to forgive me. I need her to tell me no matter what, she’ll be mine.
“I’m going to find Talya,” I say, pushing myself from my spot on the bench.
I make my way to the admin offices, slowing as I pass Hayley and Cassidy’s, hoping that by some chance, I’ll see her, and she’ll talk to me. Yeah, pretty farfetched, but I have to try. I quickly wrap my knuckles on the door, waiting for Talya’s response before entering.
“Before you say anything, no, I haven’t heard from the PI yet,” she says, as soon as I walk in.
It’s been three months, and there still has yet to be any developments. Maybe we need to hire someone else. This guy doesn’t seem to know the importance of this, or he just wants to milk me for every penny I’m worth.
“Three months, Talya. It’s been three fucking months. I don’t know how much more I can take,” I say, flopping down in her chair. “You know how many times I’ve been late for practice or games this month alone? All of them. I can’t do this anymore.”
“I get it, but we just need a little bit more time. Our guy is working on two good of a story to drop this now.”
“How good?”
She sits across from me, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans against the desk. “Apparently, so good, that he’s going to blow everything we believed out of the water. He’s just waiting for confirmation from one more lead before presenting his findings to us.”
My elbows rest on my knees as my head falls into my hands. “How long will that be?”
“Hopefully, a day or two. A week at most.”
It’s not ideal, but I can do it. Hang in there for one more week, and this nightmare will finally come to an end. Or everything will be confirmed, and I’ll just be stuck with her for the rest of my life. Then Cassidy will never forgive me.
Stop it. I need to stop thinking like that. I give Talya my best fake smile and make my way back to the rink. There’s nothing more I can do for now.
My phone rings at the ass crack of dawn after what was the worst game I ever played in my NHL career. Heck, since college too. Glancing at the flashing screen, I see Talya’s name and spring out of bed, sleep all but forgotten. It hasn’t even been a week. She said it would be a week. Tamping down my eagerness, I answer the phone and school my voice.
“Channing Halloway.” Really?
“I know who you are, Channing,” Talya says with a chuckle. “Sorry to call so early, and I know I said it could be a week, but our guy called, and he wants to meet with us in thirty mins.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
I hang up the phone and throw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a dark-gray hoodie before grabbing my keys and wallet and heading out the door.
Avoiding all speed limits, I arrive at the little dingy dive bar that the PI asked to meet at. I’m shocked a place like this is open at seven thirty a.m. on a Sunday, but I shouldn’t be surprised either since it is in one of shadiest parts of towns. Guess it comes with the territory for PIs? Meet in discreet, sketchy places. I push open the bar door and spot Talya sitting with the man of the hour.
Scotty Mars. One of the best PIs in Seattle. He’s known as the best for several reasons, one being that the guy I’m meeting right now looks nothing like the guy I met three months ago. Three months ago, he was dressed in a business suit, looking like he was a lawyer ready to slap my ass with a lawsuit. Today, he looks like a punk rocker, covered head to toe in piercings and tattoos. Hell of a transformation if you ask me.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say, sliding into the booth next to Talya.
“Right on time actually,” he says, tapping the manila folder in front of him. “Drink before we begin?”
