When my tender ass hit the unyielding plastic of the chair, I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.
Alyssa turned to me in concern. “Are you okay?”
I threw on a fake smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. The seat was just a little cold.”
Never mind that my sore backside was a reminder of the man who had rocked my world only a few hours ago. I shifted in my seat, simultaneously trying to find a position that hurt my butt the least while also trying to ease the renewed ache between my thighs at thoughts of Mr. Green Eyes.
Once she was satisfied that I was indeed all right, she asked, “So, I’m assuming you’re a Braxton Slate fan? Or are you still salty about us stealing him away?”
Stealingwas an interesting word choice. Unfortunately, I’d had a front-row seat to the emotional destruction that had led to Braxton demanding a trade during his rookie season. It had nearly broken Dakota. Witnessing it was devastating—so devastating that I knew what I had with Nix would never come close to what they shared. If only I’d taken action after that warning signal, I might not have ended up heartbroken myself.
Dwelling on the past wasn’t what today was about. No, it was about moving forward, creating a life where I held value beyond the man I was attached to.
Feeling Alyssa’s eyes still on me, I realized I’d gotten lost in my head again, and she was waiting for an answer. Knowing the cat would be out of the bag as soon as we met with the players, I admitted, “Believe it or not, my best friend and former roommate from back in Hartford is dating Braxton.”
Alyssa’s eyes flew wide, and her mouth dropped open. “No way.” When I nodded in confirmation, she leaned in close, whispering, “Have you read her books?”
I couldn’t hold back the smile that split my face. Dakota wrote dirty books—under the pen name D.D. Morgan—which was beyond amusing because she’d been doing so as a virgin prior to hooking up with Braxton. I loved that she was unashamed in providing a guilty pleasure for so many women, and in these past couple of years since her career had taken off, it was like she was a mini celebrity in her own right.
“Every single one,” I answered proudly.
She hesitated briefly before asking, “Even the one people say is about Braxton?”
Oh,thatbook.
That book was the catalyst for all three of us relocating to Indianapolis from Hartford.
We had all been running from something.
For Braxton, it was initially Dakota, but primarily, he was trying to escape living in Jaxon’s shadow.
Dakota might have claimed she was runningtoBraxton, but her home life growing up hadn’t been great. There were a lot of bad memories for Dakota in our hometown.
Then there was me. I knew working for a professional hockey team, especially a divisional rival of the Comets, would put me in the same place as Nix occasionally, but if I played it smart, I could avoid him.
The bottom line was that my best friend and the man who adored her were happy and thriving in Indy, and I knew that, given enough time, I would too.
I played it off like the book hadn’t blown up their world, smiling widely. “Of course. That was her big break. And not to take too much credit, but I was the one who gave her a nudge to move into hockey romance.”
Alyssa pulled back with a sigh, placing a hand to her chest as a dreamy expression stole over her face. “Yeah. I can see why they’re so popular. Having spent years up close and personal with those hunks? It’s a miracle I don’t burst into flames every time I enter the locker room.”
I bit back a smile. Once upon a time, I had seen the appeal and been smitten myself with those stunningly toned hockey boys. But that ship had sailed.
The seats around us filled, indicating that the first press conference of the season was about to begin. Everyone pulled out their phones and set them to record while cameramen in the back settled into position.
First, the general manager, Jared McCall, stepped up to the podium. Giving the room a smile born of years of practice addressing the media, he spoke. “Welcome to the first day of the preseason, everyone.” There was a low rumble throughout the room, acknowledging him. “We are veryexcited to embark on a new season with some new faces, both here in the media room”—he tipped his head in my direction, causing me to sit up straighter—“and on the ice. But there is one familiar face that we are the most excited about. This summer, we decided to part ways with our head coach, and in the search for a new one, we realized that the perfect candidate was already roaming our halls. Please allow me to welcome back to the Speed, in a different capacity, Maddox Sterling, our new head coach.”
McCall stepped aside, his eyes trained on the door, where a tall man who filled out a dark gray suit to perfection waltzed into the room. Dark hair was slicked back from his forehead, and a clean, strong jaw was visible from the side view as he continued closing the space to the podium. But when he turned to face the press pack and his vibrant green eyes scanned the crowd, my breath seized.
No. It can’t be.
I had half convinced myself that my mind was playing tricks on me and that there was no possible way I’d slept withtheMaddox Sterling last night, but then he spoke.
“Thank you, Jared. I’m honored to have the opportunity to remain with the Speed past my playing days.”
His deep voice confirmed his identity as my mystery man. It was a voice I would hear in my dreams for years to come.
“Oh my God,” I breathed out.
