Cloud nine. Skye.
“Now that’s punny.” I laugh at myself as I finally push myself off the door and head into my room. With the women’s team being occupied for the rest of the night, I’ve decided it’s the perfect time to marinate in bath water and then slip into my comfy sweatpants that Cassie made sure were packed.
Swish. Swish.
My foot makes a noise with every step I take, and when I finally look down, I realize I have someone’s trash stuck to me. “How long has that been there?” I groan, hoping Skye didn’t notice. That would be so embarrassing.
When I peel it off my shoe, I see it’s a handwritten note. The paper is cheap, the kind that tears easily at the edges.
No envelope.
No signature.
Just my name. Well, one of my names.
“Solace”. Nice cover.
The handwriting is neat. To me, that’s worse than messy because it says they were careful when they wrote it.
I’m standing perfectly still in the middle of the entryway. My phone rings, but I don’t answer it. I let the sound of my ringtone fill the air around me because noise means life is still happening the way it should.
I try to swallow, but my throat has gone dry.
Being brave in this situation is not an option, and I continue to tell myself that as my fingers tighten around the paper until it’s crumpled.
I need to tell Michel, but do I really need to bother him while he’s trying to enjoy his own vacation with his husband? We aren’t even staying in the same hotel, so he’d have to go out of his way for something that could be nothing.
Cassie would know what to do, but she’s working. Although I know she’d answer the phone if I called. And Theo can burn in hell. Though I’d like to believe that he’s still human enough to understand the severity of this situation and would be here to tell me I’ll be okay.
I’ve done everything I can to keep Solace under wraps. I wear the wig, I polish the mask, and I make sure not to gain any weight so the bodysuit fits me perfectly. It’s not like I can’t have a new bodysuit made, but the shipping is always a sketchy thing to deal with. Ollie had to pull a lot of strings to get me the one I have now, and she’s done so much for me already.
Ollie knows what I survived with Aethelgard. I fear that if I become more trouble than I’m worth, she’ll drop me. Sure, I top the charts, and I make her a fortune. But she can’t market Solace the same way as her other clients. There’s no personal life to flaunt, no paparazzi trail. Thanks to Michel’s intricate escape routes, I vanish after every show. I’m a ghost that prints money. And ghosts are notoriously hard to sell.
Fuck.
A shaky breath escapes me before I can stop it.
If it happens again, I’ll bother Michel. I just don’t need to ruffle any feathers until I’m sure it’s a problem.
And let’s hope it’s not a problem.
After dealing with the guy at the counter for the second time, two times too many, I went to the hotel gym and ran until I swore the treadmill was going to unplug itself.
Don’t show signs of weakness.
I’m convinced that if I pretend I didn’t see the note, nothing bad can happen. Solace will remain a secret. Skye will keep making my heart do butterflies. And I don’t have to tell Ollie that I’m going to retire.
Easy.
It’s ten o’clock at night by the time I get back to my room from the gym. I cautiously open the door, checking the floor for any signs of a second note.
Nothing.
“Safe,” I whisper.
I close the door, feeling relief from the sound of the lock clicking into place, and I decide that now is a good time for a bubble bath and sweatpants before I try to get some sleep.
I drift off to sleep to thoughts of my first hockey game tomorrow. Getting to watch it in person and hopefully understanding enough about the game that I don’t make a fool of myself while I cheer for Skye.
