I allow myself to be led through the crowd, grateful for the distraction. For the next hour, I force smiles, make small talk, and pretend to be the charming, carefree hockey star everyone expects. It's exhausting, but it's easier than thinking about Lena.
As the evening progresses, I find myself ordering something stronger than champagne at the bar. The bartender isjust sliding my whiskey across the counter when I hear a commotion near the entrance.
I turn, and the world seems to slow down.
Lena stands in the doorway, a vision in a wine-colored dress that hugs her curves perfectly. The sweetheart neckline showcases the soft swell of her breasts. Her hair is swept up, exposing the elegant line of her neck—the same neck I was kissing just a few nights ago.
She's breathtaking, and from the hush that falls over those nearest the entrance, I'm not the only one who thinks so.
Our eyes meet across the room, a brief, electric connection before she looks away, moving further into the crowd. I watch as Coach Thompson greets her, introducing her to some donors with obvious pride. She's an asset to the organization, after all—a skilled professional who belongs here just as much as any of us.
Just not with me.
I down my whiskey in one swallow, welcoming the burn.
"Well, well. If it isn't Alder Stag."
I freeze at the familiar voice, then turn slowly to find Adam standing beside me at the bar. He's immaculate in a tailored tuxedo, perfectly styled dark hair, and a press badge hanging around his neck.
"Adam," I acknowledge coldly.
“All day long,” he signals the bartender. Scotch, neat." He turns back to me with that smile I once found so charming. You're looking tense. Are you not enjoying the party?"
"It's fine." I focus on my empty glass, wishing I could order another without looking like I need it.
"I saw your dentist arrive. Quite the entrance." He accepts his drink from the bartender. "She seems to be settling in well with the team. Though I hear she's recently changed her living arrangements."
Of course, he knows. Adam makes it his business to know everything about everyone in Pittsburgh sports.
"Not your business," I say, my voice tight.
"Just making conversation." He takes a sip of his scotch. "Been seeing a lot of interesting comments from your fans online lately. The community never does like being used as PR."
I don't respond, but I can feel my jaw clenching.
"Tell me, how is life in the mainstream, straight guy?" Adam's voice is casual and conversational, but his eyes are calculating. "I wouldn’t know..." His smile turns smug.
The accusation behind his words hits like a body check that I didn't see coming. "I've never been straight."
"No?" He laughs softly. "Could have fooled me.” And then his demeanor changes. He’s predatory, almost. "Actions have consequences, Alder," Adam says coolly. "You compromised my professional reputation. Only seemed fair to return the favor."
My eyes widen. "I made a mistake," I say through gritted teeth. "You orchestrated a campaign to humiliate me."
Adam shrugs. "Consider it a lesson in the power of strategic PR. Something you should have thought about before running your mouth."
My vision narrows, and blood rushes in my ears. Before I fully register what I'm doing, my fist connects with Adam's jaw, sending him stumbling backward.
There's a moment of stunned silence, then chaos. Adam recovers, lunging forward with a drink tray he snatches from a passing server. The edge catches me across the face, pain surging through my bones.
Hands grab at both of us, pulling us apart. I hear shouting and see flashes of light that must be camera phones. Someone shouts my name, trying to get my attention, but all I can focus on is the throbbing in my face and the cold satisfaction of having finally punched Adam Lawson.
"Alder." A firm voice cuts through the noise. "Alder, look at me."
I blink, focusing on the face in front of me. Lena, her expression professional but her eyes concerned.
"I need to check your jaw," she says, loud enough for others to hear. "Come with me."
She doesn't wait for a response. She just takes my arm and guides me away from the crowd through a side door into a quiet hallway lined with artifacts under glass.
