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He clears his throat and bites his lip, shaking his head with a wicked, irritated smile on his lips like he has a really good comeback. But he holds it back, and when he gazes ather again, he says, “We don’t have much time to talk, so I’m going to dive right in. We came here to tell you that you don’t have a leash on us anymore. Fletcher knows everything, and his interview has already been paid for by ESPN. I don’t think they’ll pay much for your version anymore. You know, the one where you snuck through my parents’ house and found private documents you had no business accessing? It will be fun to explain how you know everything. I can just see that conversation when the reporter does due diligence.”
She cocks her eyebrow. “Oh, you’re so cute, Ashton. As if that’s all I have on you.” She wiggles her finger as if scribbling something ugly between us. “This little thing you have going on just feeds the narrative. Ashton Dane—the unfaithful husband running off with high school sweetheart, paying his ex-wife to keep quiet.”
“How do you live with yourself?” I blurt.I’ve done well to only say that.
Ashton pulls me into his big, strong arm, his side warm and comforting. “Chloe, the only opinion I care about now is Jolie’s. If the world thinks I’m Satan’s spawn, I just don’t give a shit, because this woman here is the only one I have to prove any loyalty to. The important thing you need to know is I no longer have any to you. Do what you want with the press. Cry your sad story from the rooftops. Talk to whoever you like as long as it isn’t me or Jolie. Contact me—or her—again and I’ll take legal action. I’m serious. This is over.”
She stands and she’s almost my height in her five-inch stilettos. “Oh, you’re threatening me? That’s lush. You think you can control me, Ashton?” She looks like a wind up car pulling back over and over to let loose on us. “How dare you?”
Just when I think I’d better tug on Ashton’s arm to justget us the hell out of here, a hand claps down on Ashton’s back.
“Dane-sy!”
Chloe’s gaze tracks behind Ashton’s shoulder and lands on the man who’s greeted Ashton—a handsome, scruffy-haired center I recognize as Andrew Christensen from the LA Raptors—one of the friends we’ve come here to meet. Next to him is his gorgeous wife, smiling with flat lips because, well, this is awkward. She must know who Chloe is.
Andrew comes straight at me with open arms. “And you must be his better half? Jolie?” He wraps burly arms around me with a hug. “So nice to finally meet you. This guy speaks the world of you. You’re theexactkind of woman I thought Dane should end up with.”
I can’t help but dart my eyes at Chloe whose face is a special shade of red.
Andrew doesn’t acknowledge Chloe and points to his wife. “This is my wife, Gabs.”
She shakes my hand, and the four of us have now made something of a circle in greeting. Chloe is very much outside of it. In fact, Ashton’s back is to Chloe, whose mouth is parted like smoke should be blowing out of it.
Andrew peers at his watch. “We don’t have a lot of time this morning before pregame. Let’s grab that table.” He finally greets Chloe. Well, sort of. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Are you coming to breakfast?”
She throws a hand on her hip. “No, Andrew. I am not.”
“Thank God.” He gazes at me with a twinkle in his eye and gives me a wink. “I’d rather poke my eyes out.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Loganand I are facedown on the massage tables, side by side. My calves need some work, and him? Always with the hamstring. Massages should feel good, but these kinds don’t, and I’m happy to distract myself from the bone-grinding pressure on my skin by telling Logan what happened at Kobu this morning.
His cheek is squashed, and his speech comes out funny between misshapen lips. “I fucking love Christensen. I’m going to send him a bottle of Moët or something.That is hilarious.”
“He’s a beer guy. But yeah, Chloe was pretty bent out of shape. I’m glad Jolie and I stood our ground without losing it. But he’s a fucking saint for saying what I was thinking.”
He nods. “I just hope she doesn’t come after you two again.”
“Honestly, bro?” I lift myself onto my elbows. “I really don’t care at this point. Joey and I are solid, and Fletcher decided to carve out his own destiny on this one.”
“He’s a strong man.”
“Yeah, but that’s little brother shit, too. If there’s one thing he can’t tolerate, it’s being controlled.”
“Sounds like Dash, too.” Logan closes his eyes, like the masseuse just hit a hard spot.
“Pzzt. Sounds like you.”
He lifts his eyebrows lazily, his body jostling around gently while the therapist digs into his hamstrings. “You’re so obsessed with me.”
“Obsessed with you playing well, to be exact.”
His eyes shoot open. “I didn’t…” He glances around to see who’s listening then talks through gritted teeth. “I didn’t drink in Vegas.”
“Two nights there is enough to not need a drink. The air is thick and bad for your lungs, jet lag sets in because you can’t tell if it’s night or day half the time in the casinos. You need to start lying low or Coach will demote you to second line.”
He shudders. “To quote my hero, Christensen—I’d rather poke my eyes out.”
