I sigh and round the bed to my side. I lie back down. “I trust you,” I say softly. “That you are never going to hurt me. We’re going to be fine.”
“Okay,” she says softly into the dark.
Thursday morning, I head over to our apartment in LoHi to meet with the landlord and get our keys. Libby has more meetings, and although I plan to head down to the arena sometime today to watch practice again, I’ve got time to settle all this. Libby will sleep better tonight knowing we’re not sharing a bed again.
The apartment is in a historic brick building that’s been remodeled into high-end apartments. Ours has two levels, though several in the building are smaller and there are even some studios. When I step into the living room, I see that our stuff has already been delivered by the movers. They’ll be coming back later today to unpack, although I told Libby I could do it. She said there were perks to being rich and I should get used to stuff like this.
I head upstairs to the two bedrooms. My bed sits in the guest room, but the boxes of all my belongings are in the master bedroom down the hall. Originally, we intended to keep all mythings in the master in case Ellie and her family came by—Libby was sure her older sister would snoop. That’s a moot point now.
I can’t help eyeing all the windows, though. Since marrying Libby, I’ve realized how easy it is for photographers to snap shots even when we think we’re alone. There are cream-colored shades on the windows, so I immediately pull them down in both the bedrooms. Then I head downstairs and get out my laptop. Caleb Gallagher is looking into getting me the reports on Bryce’s accounts, but it’s probably going to take time. In the meantime, I need to see if I can get more information from these applicants.
I call Baylee’s ex, Mitchell Hurst, first. He doesn’t answer, which isn’t surprising. I doubt he has my number in his phone. I leave a quick message, and just as I finish my LetsEat order for lunch to be delivered, he calls back.
“Hey, Jordan. Good to hear from you,” he says as a greeting.
I summon my most cheerful Jordan from Redhaven Foundation voice. “Hey, Mitchell. Thanks for calling me back. We got your application. Sorry to hear that Bryce got to you too.”
“Thanks, bro,” Mitchell says, and I cringe. “Your message says you had some follow-up questions?” His tone is calm and has nothing to indicate he’s worried about what I might ask.
“Here’s the thing—legally, we can’t disburse funds without documentation. Can you send over your bank information, and we’ll get with them to check on this? I definitely want to help you recoup the funds. That’s not pocket change.”
“No, it’s not.” His tone is rueful. “But I’ve already tried. Honestly, it’s been so frustrating. The thing is, it’s from an account that I closed shortly after, and although the bank is still supposed to have records, they can’t find it.”
Talk about red flags. I arch an eyebrow, glad he can’t see me. Mitchell is the largest new claim we have by far—the rest are all small potatoes compared to his $500,000 claim. And he thinks I’m just going to dole out cash based on his word? He’s still as stupid as he was back in high school.
“Hmmm,” I say instead. “That is frustrating. You mind giving me the bank information anyway? I have to check in on it, you know?”
There’s a pause. “Yeah, of course. I’ll dig up the contact information and text you back.”
“Perfect.” Except something tells me this is still off. I shake the thought out of my head—for now. I can be cautious about this, but I also need to see this through as though Mitchell is telling the truth. Just because I didn’t like him back in high school doesn’t mean he’s lying to me now.
“I’ll be in touch,” Mitchell says, and then hangs up.
I try to shake off the way this whole thing is making my skin crawl and move on to the next name.
CHAPTER 24
LIBBY
I head down to the rink when I have a break in my meetings since I know Jordan will be there. He’s kept his distance all day, not coming up to poke his head into my office when he got to the arena like he usually does, and I know he’s trying to give me space since his confession. I don’t want space from him. It’s selfish to seek him out, because he probably needs space from me as well if we can’t be a real couple.
He sits in the bleachers, high enough up to have a good view of the practice. He’s leaning forward, eyes on the team, taking in everything with concentration. He’s focused enough that I’m close by the time he sees me.
He stands, his face lighting up, and I melt at his reaction. He comes forward quickly but then hesitates the tiniest bit before he reaches me. “Hug?” he mouths.
I nod. “Of course,” I mouth back.
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him. I tighten my hold around his waist and breathe him in. The day has been good, but busy. It’s nice to justbefor a moment.
“How’s the team?” I ask when we pull away without the usual light kiss. I need to distract myself from my disappointmentand believe in the “little bits” of trust that will come every day with Jordan.
“The coaches are smart. Do the bigwigs still have Andrew on the list?” He nods down to the assistant coach, who’s stepped in during the interim since the former head coach retired.
“He is.”
“I think he should be at the top. He knows the guys, and he knows the game.” He rests his hand lightly on my back as we turn and watch the team skate, then after a moment drops it.
“He’s not a hundred percent on board with the reality TV show.” I grimace. Andrew Cooper is a great candidate. If Jordan thinks he’s the best for the job, I’m tempted to give it to him now. But I also can’t have him fighting with the show’s producers all the time or spend too much of my time stepping in to get the show access to the team.
