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“How did you find out?” It was supposed to be a secret, damn it.
He lifted a shoulder. “My manager knows everything.”
Yeah, my mouth opened in disbelief. “She heard about it?”
“She makes an effort to know everything before convincing me to do something. She did her research on the team, and I’m assuming she found out then. Don’t frown at me. Secrets don’t exist for her; I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew all the bad things every player on the team has ever done.”
My cheeks went hot, and I tried to rationalize what he was implying.
“You could have asked me. I would have told you,” I grumbled.
Refusing to look at me, he replied, “You were taking too long.”
Dear God. I was going to murder him. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Yes. I already said you were an idiot for not fighting them, but there is nothing I can do about it now. If someone ever did that to you now, I would feel differently about it. That will never happen again, understand?”
For some strange reason, his defense had me beaming. It didn’t matter anymore. It was in the past and… well, he didn’t think what I’d mistakenly been accused of was a big deal. Why should I? Maybe it was time to leave Amber and her idiot husband behind. Hopefully I’d have a fresh start.
I took a deep breath and took in his side profile, cute nose, perfectly proportionate chin and his beard stubble. “What about you? Made any decisions yet on what you’re going to do?”
He swung those light-colored eyes over to me. “No. I haven’t decided anything.”
I watched him out of the corner of my eye. “Have the Pipers asked you to re-sign?”
“Yes.” He glanced back over at me, smiling that baby grin. “Do you believe the term ‘fuck off’ would be an appropriate answer?”
I cracked a smile and reached over to squeeze his shin. “I think I like it.”
His phone was ringing again.
“If you don’t answer it, I’m going to,” I threatened him, not straying from keeping my eyes on the scenery outside.
“Neither of us is answering,” he said what I had already come to assume after the fourth time his phone had rung since I’d gotten released from the hospital.
What seemed like every five minutes, the trauma had started all over. Beep, beep, beep. The most boring ringtone ever created had been on a constant loop.
“Who’s calling?” I finally asked.
“My publicist. Cordero. Sheila.”
Oh brother. “You mean Sheena?”
“Yes. Her.”
“What do they want?” No one had called me. The only person I had spoken to was Gardner, to let him know that the doctor had come in that morning and said I was free to go. But it had taken hours to get discharged. Holy crap. The team had flown back without me, a van dropping my things off before heading to the airport. Gardner had said he’d let Kulti know what was happening since he apparently decided to miss the flight and catch the next one with me.
He sighed. “They don’t want us to get on the same flight together.”
That had me turning in the cab’s old leather seat. “Why?”
He made a face that said how stupid he thought this all was. “The photographs.”
The photographs if someone realized who he was. I wasn’t anything special to look at, no one would recognize me, but he was a different story.
It was my turn to sigh. “I can sit by myself.”
“Don’t start, Sal,” he grumbled, still not looking my way.
