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I’d read every single one of those articles. Dissected every word like they would give me a hint as to who wrote them. But the only thing I got was the certain feeling that shit was going to get way worse before it got better. If it got better at all.
Holding Huey, I wondered if our time with him, and with Nova, wasn’t running out.
ChapterThirty-Six
RIVER
I’d walkedup to Nova, scooped her up and taken her to my bed for the rest of the day. I held her to my chest for hours, neither of us saying much. I kissed her, trying to convey the swirling emotions that were happening in my head and in my chest. I couldn’t even face the idea of losing her over something as dumb as this. She seemed better than I thought, but there was a distance between us that hadn’t been there when I’d climbed out of bed this morning.
We could get past this. There would be no other option.
We lost ourselves in mindless television, and eventually moved back downstairs for lunch. We all sat around, talking about anything but the obvious elephant in the room. The neighbors messaged to say that the photographers had swelled around the middle of the afternoon, but were starting to slowly dissipate when they realized we weren’t going to leave the house and that no one was going to have an epic public meltdown. We were one-day news, there and gone, so it was hardly worth camping in front of our gates.
We went to bed that night, pretending the day hadn’t happened. But if my childhood had taught me anything, it was that pretending only helped for so long. The bad shit still happened, even if you hid under your blankets and plugged your ears.
But sometime overnight, Nova’s identity was discovered. And with that, someone who knew her father, who knew the whole story about Huey and Alana, decided to profit off her pain. If I ever found out who this “source close to Ms. Stone” was, I was going to tear them limb from limb.
All the progress we’d made yesterday disappeared as soon as the phones started ringing again, until I locked them all in a drawer and refused to answer them. Close-ups of Huey appeared, zoomed from photos of Nova and us, next to headlines of “Like Father, Like Daughter?” and “Heart of Stone.”
I wanted to smash shit. I couldn’t hide with her in my arms today, either. It was a fucking game day. PR had told us to leave Nova at home because they didn’t want that bullshit in the stadium, and while I agreed, I hated that she might feel like a dirty little secret.
My agent was blowing up my phone, and Rigby’s, but I was ignoring it. I wasn’t interested in whatever bullshit he had to say.
Julieta appeared after school drop-off, completely unannounced. She was already at the gate before we even knew she’d arrived. Muss’s youngest daughter flipped off the reporters outside the gates as they drove in, and honestly, I was gonna buy that kid a pony for her birthday. She might only be four, but she had Julieta’s attitude.
Julieta unloaded an entire cooler of shit that looked like an epic girls’ night in, and sent us all off with promises that she’d look after Nova and Huey until Devan got back after work this afternoon. Not that Nova needed someone to care for her; she was so fucking tough. But I could see the damage the words on the screen were doing to her. She was curling in on herself protectively as her family’s reputation was dragged through the mud on national television.
I was skating around the rink, doing some last-minute drills. Muss slid up beside me, his face a mask of concern. “You haven’t been texting back. We were worried about you.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Julieta said as much when she turned up.”
Muss snorted a laugh. “I would have warned you that there was no stopping Hurricane Julieta, if you’d answered your phone. We’ve got your back, man. You know that. With the team, with the media—whatever you need.”
“You’re a good man, Clint,” I said roughly. Honestly, for so long, the only people I could rely on were Dev and Rigby. We always took care of Alana, not the other way around. But Clint gave his support over and over again, without ever expecting anything in return.
He slapped my shoulder hard. “So are you, Cooper. Don’t let this shit get to you.” With that, we skated off the ice and in to see the trainers.
The crowd at tonight's game were wild. Corporate could say what it wanted, but the stories hadn’t done anything to the crowd numbers. In fact, there were more women in the crowd than ever, some holding signs that said things like “Are you looking for a fifth?” and “I want to visit the Eiffel Tower” which Ludo explained meant they wanted to be spit-roasted while the guys gave each other a high five.
Fuck me. Ludo was enjoying it, though. That kid was a fucking peacock, and was busy skating the boards and flirting with girls in oversized jerseys. I just shook my head. Somehow public relations would make that my fault too. Like there hadn’t been horny puck bunnies in this sport for decades.
As I skated out, there were hoots and cat-calls from the supporters of the other team, and I ignored them. I’d channel this shit into the game, and then they could suck my dick when I trounced their shitty fucking team into the ice.
The puck was dropped, and I fell back to my line. The game was fast and furious, and I could see the Penguins defense fucking with Rigby, but he skated around them easily. He was fucking glorious on the ice. He’d always been a natural, like he’d been born with a stick in his hand and skates on his feet.
The guy had him on the boards, and whatever he was saying had Rigby throwing off his gloves and throwing hands. I skated up to them as another player swooped in as well.
“I’m going to fuck your little whore too, Engman. Think she likes all player cock or is she only into you pussies?” the guy taunted near his ear, and I saw red. I barreled into him, his helmet flying off and my fists pounding into the mouthy fuck’s face until the referees were in there, trying to drag me off.
Muss was beside me soon enough, fucking up some other player, until everyone on the ice was getting into it. The referees wisely got the fuck out of the way, and even Perrier came up and was laying into the Penguins goalie.
Toons was trying to keep the rest of the team on the bench, and I hoped they stayed. I was probably already fucked, but it was a ten-game match penalty if you left the bench to join in. The crowd were screaming like monkeys at the zoo, and I was throwing punches as someone else laid a hit into my temple, making the room spin.
“You fucking pussy piece of shit,” someone grunted at me, but I couldn’t see who it was from the blood running down my eyebrow and into my eye.
Finally, the referees dragged away the guy on top of me, and I grimaced with satisfaction that he was bleeding just as much as me. Muss grabbed Rigby from the refs, shoving him toward the bench, where the trainer was waiting to patch us up.
I noted Ludo had a bruise blooming on his cheek as well. I lifted my chin at him, and he grinned. “Can’t let you guys have all the fun.”
