“I didn’t say that either,” I growl.
“Maybe you didn’t have to.” He shoots me a wry grin.
Before he can skate off, I pin him with my fiercest look. “She’s a reporter. Watch your back.”
He tips his chin up as he says, “Journalist.”
“Whatever.”
He tilts his head. “Is this Luke speaking or our team captain?”
I sigh. “Both.”
Still facing me, he pushes off the boards, gliding backward. “You know, sometime I’d love to hear why you have such an intense dislike for the press.”
“Today is not that day, my friend.” Or ever. I’ve tried to put that behind me—behind Kinsley and me—since what went down after my mother’s accident. Just took a nosy reporter taking a deep dive into my family’s history to reveal stuff about my father that I didn’teven know about. Suddenly, our loss became more about him than the loss of our mother. He didn’t deserve the attention, and Kins and I didn’t need the scrutiny.
That’s when my anger really started. Anger at my mother for not telling us the real reason he ‘left.’ Anger at the press for making a painful loss worse—thank goodness for the Barracuda’s PR team and their hard work getting it shut down before it went viral. And anger at my father for bailing on our family. Although maybe that’s a blessing in disguise.
Finding out the truth wrecked me, but explained a lot of things I couldn’t understand as a kid. I know my mother was trying to protect us, and I’m glad that Kinsley has no memory of it. But it’s a burden I never wanted to carry.
When I turn around, Sophie’s staring at me through the glass like an angry fan on a rampage with that giant bag of hers slung over her arm. I don’t know how much she overheard through the plexiglass, but I’m sure she heard Payton’s last words since he raised his voice. But she already knows I have an aversion to the press, so maybe she heard me call her a reporter again.
I can’t help but wonder if her timing was intentional, though. Did she leave her usual perch in the upper seats to eavesdrop?
“Guess that makes us even.” I take another slug from my water bottle.
She frowns as she moves closer. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard your convo with Payton. And now you overheard mine.”
Her mouth slides into a smug grin. “So, in other words, you’re admitting you eavesdropped yesterday?”
I clench my jaw. Touché, Sophie Adams, touché. Not that I intended to overhear their conversation. I just happened to walk up when Payton asked her out for dinner and interrupted before she could answer. That part might have been intentional.
She walks away while I stand there staring at her like theidiot that I am. Something about Sophie brings out my sarcasm more than I’d like.
Ethan makes a hockey stop next to me, spraying ice over my skates and nudging my shoulder. His chest rises and falls with his exertion. “Something going on there?”
Sweat trickles down the side of my face as I shake my head. “Not a thing.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, not buying it.”
I pin him with a look to back up my words. “No need to. It’s the truth. There’s nothing going on between us.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Whatever you want to believe, man.”
Ethan returns to the scrimmage while I take a moment to stuff my anger back into the metaphorical locker I created in my mind.
Some things just aren’t worth revisiting.
After practice ended, Derek instructed me to go to the coaches’ office right after I shower and clean up. He sounded terse, so I’m guessing something’s up with Gabe.
When I get there, Sophie’s sitting in one of the chairs positioned in front of Coach’s desk, and neither of them looks happy. I close the door behind me and approach the empty seat.
Did she run and tattle on me for calling her a reporter again? It wasn’t intentional. In my mind, they’re one and the same, so I don’t understand the differentiation.
Coach gestures to the chair. “Have a seat, Luke.”
