Page 36 of Slapshot Bride

Diane’s face changes.

Not soft, exactly, because Diane doesn't do soft, but something less professional moves through it for a second.

“That’s a different conversation, Easton. Do you have reason to believe she's not safe?”

I think about the man on the corner with the long lens. The second one further down. The way Preston Sinclair issued a press statement in forty minutes about a woman he had not seen leave the venue.

“Not yet.”

“Then until you do, she stays invisible.”

“Understood.”

I stand to leave. Coach claps me on the shoulder as I pass.

I get to my car, take the driver seat, but I don’t turn on the ignition.

The reality of the verbal agreement I’ve just had with Diane and Coach Brennan registers.

What I've just agreed to is to make her invisible. To put her back in a house with the curtains drawn. The exact same thing Preston Sinclair has been doing to her for six years, in a different costume.

The difference is supposed to be that I'm doing it to keep her safe.

I'm not sure what it changes or how it even gives her the freedom she wants.

Maybe I’m not the right person to keep her safe. Maybe she needs help somewhere else, from someone else. It’ll be for the best. For her. For the life she wants.

But even as the thoughts hit me, I know it’s not the truth. Now that she’s chosen me to keep her safe, I’d lose a limb before letting her off. Especially not when she’s helpless and her prey is out there, silently and strategically closing all doors on her.

This will have to do for now. Until this mess blows over.

I heave a deep sigh. I turn the ignition and the engine roars to life. My fingers settle on the stirring wheel, and almost immediately, my phone rings.

Fucking Maya. A frown twists my lips. I reach for my phone. But it’s just my mom.

“Hi, mom,”

“Easton, sweetheart. Took you forever to respond. Did I disrupt something?” I hear the smile in her voice, and for a moment, I’m pulled into an alternate universe, into a world with just her warmth and rainbows.

“Not at all, mom. Just finished at the rink.”

“How was practice?”

“Good.”

She stays quiet for a minute and I can almost picture the wheels rotating in her head. My mom is very observant. I can almost hear the question even before she voices it.

“That is your one-word answer voice. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing serious, mom. Just a tiring day, mixed with an unplanned decision.”

“Hmm… anything I need to be worried about?”

I close my eyes. I put my head back against the headrest.

“It’s just… I made a decision a few days ago, which I thought was a harmless one. Today I'm being asked to handle it in a way I think is the wrong one. And I'm sitting in my car in the lot at the rink trying to figure out which one I'm going to be.”

She's quiet for a beat.