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“She wants to know if you’d like to comment on your relationship with Alex Parker.”
“My what?” I stop myself from yelling because it’s not Kayla’s fault. “Patch her through, please.”
Without another word, Kayla transfers the call that lights up on my screen.
I press the button and say, “This is Coach.”
“Coach,” she mutters, “hi, I’m Kennedy Lockwood from Sports Buzz. Thank you for taking my call. Every time I’ve tried to reach you this week, I’ve gotten your voice mail.”
I lean my elbow on the wood. “What can I do for you, Miss Lockwood?”
“As Alex Parker’s agent, I thought you might want to comment on the string of scandals he’s gotten himself into lately and how they have been affecting his game.”
“His game?” I’m confused by her comment. “He’s playing better now than he has in a long time. I can assure you that his personal life is not interfering with hockey.”
She chuckles to herself. “Can you explain why he was seen boarding a plane with a young woman at the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport this morning?”
My chest starts pounding, the blood coursing through my veins. My heart is beating so fast, I can hear ringing in my ears.
You knew this would happen, I tell myself.
It’s no use though. I’m not sure if I’m having a panic attack or if I’m about to Hulk Smash this desk in half. As my anxiety and anger bubble in my chest, sucking the air from my lungs, the room spins around me.
I knew better than to become attached to Alex, but I couldn’t help myself. Because I saw something broken inside him that I could relate to, and I wanted to be the one to piece him back together. Now, I’m the one who’s plagued with nightmares again after years of trying to move forward and feeling just as broken as I once did.
After a long, awkward pause, I gather my thoughts and try to compose myself. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, Miss Lockwood, but Alex has a game tonight at the American Airlines Center in Dallas. He wouldn’t miss a game to jet-set with a puck bunny.”
I’m not even sure what to think at the moment, but I want to believe that Alex wouldn’t bail on a game to get laid. Even for him, that’s uncharacteristic. And he just called on the other line.
Should I call him back?
“I have proof,” she says. “Check your inbox.”
Within seconds, an email appears on my computer.
Afraid of what I might find, my hand shakes as I click on the attachment. I can’t believe he broke his promise. Standing next to Alex in the TSA screening line is a young girl with long dark curls that frame her face. She’s hanging on to his bicep, looking up at him with a smile that he returns.
Alex Parker is dead to me. I have to assign him to another agent because I can’t do this, not after everything I’ve already done and the promises he made and broke. A good fighter knows when to cut their losses and tap out, so that’s what I need to do. I’m throwing in the towel on whatever we had. It was just a fling to him anyway.
Before I can respond to Kennedy about the picture, Kayla barges into my office with a cell phone in her hand and whispers, “It’s Alex. He says it’s urgent.”
“Kennedy, can you please excuse me for a second?” I mute the line and glance at Kayla, who’s standing in my doorway. “Tell Alex that I don’t care if the apartment is on fire. I’m done with him. Kevin Frazier will take over for me in Mickey’s absence. Alex can call him if he has any issues. I’m done being his babysitter.”
She raises the phone to her ear. “Did you get that, Alex?” There’s a pause where he’s most likely pleading for her to help him out. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do for you. Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” I mutter once she hangs up with Alex.
“What’s going on with you and Alex?” she asks with a curious look.
“Nothing, Kayla.” I try to hide how deflated I feel on the inside and sit straighter in my chair. “He’s just another pain-in-the-ass client who can’t keep his shit together. I’ve just had enough, is all.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Right. Well, Jamie is waiting for you in reception. Should I send him in?”
“Let me finish up here, and I’ll be out. It shouldn’t be more than a few minutes. Can you get him a coffee and those Danish things he likes?”
“Sure. No problem, Coach,” she says. Then, she closes the door behind her.
The picture of Alex and his mystery girl haunts me as I pick up the receiver and apologize to Kennedy for making her wait. I cannot stop staring at the photo, studying every single pixel, in hopes that I’m missing something. They look like a happy couple waiting in line, about to go on a trip.
