A very sweaty Jake stands beside the female reporter, towering over her, his already imposing frame made even taller by his skates. Natalie’s heart flutters in quiet treachery as she takes him in. He’s grinning wide, his blue eyes alight with elation. His playoff scruff is thick, shadowing the sharp angles of his jaw, a rugged contrast to the boyish excitement radiating from him. He looks happy, she realizes with a sinking certainty. Undeniably happy.
The reporter holds a microphone to Jake. “MacDonald, congratulations on the win. What do you attribute this team’s success so far in the playoffs?”
“Yeah, the boys were firing tonight. We were doing all the right things, getting in the corners, putting the pucks in deep. It was only a matter of time.”
Jake is doing his best to give the aloof, boring hockey interviewsthe PR team has drilled into them, but Natalie can tell he’s biting back a grin.
“You were traded at the deadline and quickly started making an impact with your size, but your coach has also been singing your praises about your leadership in the locker room. Can you tell us about that?”
“Yeah, you know, I’m getting up there and seeing the new guys coming in. It’s important for them to know they have someone to talk to. Know someone is looking out for them. I don’t think I’m doing anything special, just trying to set an example.”
Jake mops his face and neck with a towel, and Natalie’s attention is drawn to a glimmer of gold on the collar of his jersey.
The reporter asks him another question, and Jake leans down to hear her over the roaring crowd, giving her a further view of the gold chain around his neck.
“Oh my god!” she shrieks, jolting to her feet. Her half-full paper plate flips, sending sushi tumbling to the floor like fat pink raindrops.
“Nat, Jesus!” Jesse grumbles, recoiling. “If the carpet reeks like fish, I’m never getting my deposit back!.
But Natalie doesn’t hear him. She’s crouched in front of the TV, her eyes locked on Jake.
“Uh… is she okay?” Tristan asks, brow furrowed.
Theo glances between Natalie and the screen, watching the way she stares, utterly transfixed. His mouth quirks as realization dawns. “Oh, she’s good. She’s about to be real good.”
On the screen, Jake grins at the reporter before skating away. The interview ends.
Natalie rises shakily to her feet, brushing grains of rice off her knees. Her eyes are wet, her cheeks streaked with silent tears. But she’s smiling—wide, breathless, almost delirious.
“I have to go,” she blurts out, spinning toward her purse.
“What? Where?” Jesse scrambles up, completely baffled by the sudden shift in her mood.
“The airport,” she says, shoving her feet into her shoes. Then, thinking twice, she rushes to the guest room, snatching her overnight bag without breaking stride.
Jesse trails after her, hands thrown up. “Why? What the hell is happening?”
Natalie turns to him, grabbing his face between her hands. She presses a quick, fierce kiss to his cheek. “I love you, but I have to go.”
And then she’s gone—sweeping out the door, leaving Jesse standing in stunned silence.
She’s jabbing ferociously at the elevator button, when she hears it?—
“Natalie, wait!”
She freezes, dread clawing at her. Turns.
Jesse is jogging toward her, breathless, his expression a mix of exasperation and something else—something softer. The elevator doors slide open behind her.
“I’ll drive,” he says.
CHAPTER 44
TRISTAN
Beauty apple!
PAVEL
