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Sympathy sweeps through me, chilling my temper. “And you’ve been sharing some really heavy stuff. I’m sorry.”

“And you’ve been patiently listening to me dump out all my troubles. But thank you for listening.” I nod, and her slender hands slide into her front pockets. “You should probably go. In case Donny comes home.”

“Yeah, I guess I am playing with fire here, huh?” Wouldn’t that just screw the pooch if Harper walked in on us right now? My fate with the Surge would be sealed, and my ass would be gone. Not exactly the right approach to smoothing things over with Golden Boy.

I hesitate a moment, gathering my thoughts. “Jackie, what I said just now, please forget it. I want you to know that I think you got railroaded and that your ex deserves to spend time in prison as someone’s bitch.”

A light giggle escapes her. “Or maybe keelhauled?”

“Keelhauling would be a good start, but not nearly enough.” One side of my mouth hitches up in an attempt at a smile. I head toward the door, and she trails behind.

“Maybe I’ll see you in the elevator sometime,” she says right before she shuts the door after me.

Taking the stairs down to my floor, I walk off some of the tension in my body. The door gives when I unlock it, and I step inside a smaller, sparser version of Harper’s place. My landlord, the traded player, took some furniture with him, but I have the basics I need. Couch, TV, bed, a couple of barstools, and a few pieces of art on the wall so it’s not too stark. My hockey sticks stand in one corner and add a lived-in touch.

I drop onto the couch and look around the space. Rather than the panoramic city-lights view in Harper’s condo, this one’s partially blocked by another building. If I lean to the left, I can pretend it’s all city spread beneath me. Not that it matters because it’s temporary. I’m temporary. But I don’t want to be.

My mind churns with Jackie’s confession, and I let remorse fill me with how poorly I handled it. Before long, fury percolates in my veins again. I’d like to hunt her bastard of an ex down and use his face for a punching bag. What kind of evil son of a bitch does what he did to someone as sweet as Jackie?

It occurs to me that Royal and I aren’t so different. We’re both capable of doing irreparable damage to people we claim to care about, and that thought stirs up a hornet’s nest inside me.

On the way to my bedroom, I hoist myself up on the pull-up bar I’ve installed in the doorway of an empty room and do one rep of chin-ups after another until my arms are noodles. Exercise helps dissipate some of my frustration, but more simmers below the surface.

In my bedroom, I strip down to my boxers and check my phone. In a bid to get a handle on this turmoil brewing inside me, I scroll through old emails. After twenty minutes, my lids grow heavy but suddenly snap open. An email from Peggy that hit my inbox a few weeks ago suddenly has all my attention. At the time, I ignored it because it was irrelevant. It’s relevant now, and I’m wide awake. I thumb a reply into the keyboard and hit send.

Chapter 16

New Horizons

Colby

The charter plane awaits us, and we cross the tarmac while a few journalists take pictures. They like to capture us in our civvies and post them on social for reasons that escape me.

One of them, a leggy brunette, calls out to me. “Looking good, Number Six. Bespoke suit, I assume?” I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around. Is what I’m wearing actually newsworthy? Or is she picking on me because Harper ignores her?

I give her a mini-salute and mumble my thanks, and this must be the encouragement she needs because she fires off another question. “What do you think your chances are of getting traded before the deadline?”

Shit. Did she really go there? The deadline’s three weeks away, and Harper and I are no closer to getting along. Mostly, we avoid each other so we don’t end up throwing down, but that doesn’t do much for “team chemistry.”

Fuck. Me.

Tony, who’s a few feet ahead, glances over his shoulder at me. “Ignore her.”

“Already there,” I grouse. I appreciate the support, though. More than he knows.

A window seat calls to me, and I slide across the row and go to put my phone in airplane mode. Peggy’s reply to my late-night email sits in my inbox, and I click on it. With a happy hiss, I pump my arm.

Harper’s blond head is a few rows ahead of me. He’s not going to come back here and ask if we can enjoy breakfast together, so I’m safe as I fire off a text to Jackie.

Hey, heard from Peggy that a local nonprofit needs a coordinator. Like now. Text me back if you’re interested and I’ll put you in touch.

I hold my breath and wait. And wait. We need to shut off our phones, but it’s a three-hour flight, and I’m impatient for Jackie’s answer.

As the flight attendant is making the announcement to do just that, Jackie’s text lights up my screen.

Thanks so much for thinking of me. What’s the nonprofit’s name?

I play dumb.