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She’s probably right. That doesn’t make the next few hours any easier for me. The office is buzzing with the story, as it’s already made it around. Sports radio has picked up the lead, too, but everyone has been quiet about the details, so they don’t have much to tell except that police were called when a woman was found in an unnamed player’s hotel room. Our legal team is on top of it and is doing their best to keep Cillian’s name out of it for as long as they can. That won’t last, of course, due to public records and whatnot. But at least it gives Cillian some time to rest before being hounded.
The team’s flight landed a few hours ago. My test messages and call logs still show nothing from him.
Me:
Are you sure he’s okay? Should I fly out there? I don’t know what to do.
Instead of texting back, my dad calls me.
“You don’t need to fly out. It was a rush to get all our things together before the flight, his phone ended up in cargo and died. We talked the whole flight and then I sent him to his room for a nap, he’s dead on his feet. He knows I’ve been keeping you up to date. He’ll call you when he wakes up.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure, sweetheart.”
“What did you talk about?”
“You, mostly.”
“Is that good?”
“It’s good, Isla.”
“I’m getting on a flight.”
“I expected nothing less. Let me know what time you land.”
“I will. Thanks, Dad.”
* * *
I have to rush to make my own flight, but just over seven hours later, I’ve cleared Canadian customs and am walking into the lobby of the hotel the Blades are staying at in Toronto.
Cillian must have tried to call while I was in flight because there was a text message waiting for me to land, asking me to call him. I haven’t though, I just want to see him, to talk to him face to face. Put my hands on him and reassure myself that he’s truly okay and that viper didn’t hurt him.
Dad meets me in the lobby to hand me a keycard which is needed to gain access to the upper floors of the hotel.
“How was the flight?” He wraps his arms around me for a long hug.
“Too long, but fine.”
“Legal called. They’ve hit her with a handful of charges and a hefty bail. She didn’t obtain the gun legally and she had drugs in her purse. Some kind of sedative or something. We don’t know what she had planned, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. They’re filing protection orders for him, you, and Sadie.”
“Jesus,” I curse. The gun is still a shock, but I’ve resigned myself to the belief that she is diabolical enough to drug Cillian. “Do you think she’d come after us?”
“No way to know, but we’re not taking that chance. Every precaution will be taken, and you’ll follow all the rules. Understand?”
“Of course,” I agree. “What room?”
“Four-oh-two.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“Thanks for looking out for him,” I say, giving him another hug.
“I protect what’s mine, Isla. You know that,” he says as if it’s a given. Which it is, except I know in this case he isn’t counting Cillian as only one of his players. He’s counting him as family.
Getting to his door feels like it takes hours when it’s only been minutes. Every nerve in me is frayed and fragile, nothing seems right. Until he opens the door to my soft knock.
“Isla,” he breathes out with such relief. My eyes roam every inch of him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the tightness in his neck, his fingers that flex like they don’t know what to do with themselves. It all matters, and at the same time, none of it does. Because for the first time in so, so long, I see clearly.
