It felt like enough.
***
I was halfway through putting yesterday’s laundry away. Funny some things never change. Laundry is still a pain. An alert buzzed my phone. New article fromThe Tribune. I tapped the screen and saw the headline.
EXCLUSIVE: NHL Legacy at Risk—Former Star Caught Between Father’s Land Deal and Local Shelter Drama
Vanessa didn’t get anything new. So she twisted the old stuff into something she probably thought was worse.
Vanessa thought she caught me off guard.
Too bad for her, I had a heads-up.
Chapter nineteen
Riley: The choice
Iwas juggling the usual chaos—doing inventory, half-listening to two volunteers arguing about leash placement, and trying (again) to get that stubborn shed door to open without swearing. I’d finally managed to wedge it loose when my phone buzzed.
I saw the headline. Skimmed the article. Sighed. Vanessa was reaching now, grasping at scraps, twisting old news into something worse. Colton can handle it. Colton would handle it. Of course, he would. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and stepped outside to check on the dogs.
And yet, ten minutes later, I was in my car, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as I pulled into the rink parking lot. I’d passed the post office without mailing the supply order, ignored the flashing gas light, and made exactly zero calls about the broken fence gate.
The reason for coming? Solid. Logical. Just checking in. Just making sure he wasn’t letting Vanessa’s nonsense get under his skin.
Total lie. And I knew it.
My pulse ticked faster as I stepped out, the sharp bite of the morning air cutting through my jacket. It wasn’t just about Vanessa. It was about that quiet tug in my chest. It was about him. About seeing him.
I hadn’t expected to see him outside.
And I definitely hadn’t expected to see this.
Across the lot, near the rink’s rear entrance, Colton stood facing a man in a sleek black overcoat. They were far enough away that I couldn’t make out the words, but I didn’t need to. The posture said it all. Colton’s shoulders were stiff, his jaw was tight, and the man’s hands were slicing through the air like punctuation marks in a fight.
It looked like an argument. A serious one.
I should’ve turned around. I should’ve gone inside like a normal person and waited in the lobby. Maybe even texted him. But instead, I kept walking—slowly—angling myself between the parked cars. Not hiding exactly, just... investigating. From a respectful distance. Like a responsible adult.
A responsible adult who just ducked behind an SUV. Not ducked. Just... paused. Strategically. Because I needed a better look.
And that’s when I saw him more clearly—the man Colton was arguing with.
Sharp suit. Silvering hair. Familiar scowl.
Oh no.
I knew that face.
I’d cyber-stalked that face.
Colton’s father.
I hovered behind a Prius, internally debating the ethics of what was now officially eavesdropping. Not that I could hear anything yet. So, is this really eavesdropping?
Perfect. Just perfect.
Because obviously, when your maybe-something is arguing with his powerful, land-grabbing father, the right move is to lurk behind a stranger’s hatchback.