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"And you're an idiot." Kelsey scowls. "Why are you guys so dumb? I mean, I know you take pucks to the head a lot, but the IQ on this team is seriously below the NHL average. Maybe Coach should start administering tests every year to see how being around each other impacts your common sense because you all seem to share one brain cell."
"Hey," I protest, even though I definitely deserve her shit.
"She likes you, you idiot!" Kelsey shouts. "I'm guessing she likes you a lot if she's willing to risk the wrath of her boss to keep your secret because that man is an absolute cretin."
"He's mean to her?" I growl, my hands curling around the arms of my chair as a surge of…something fierce and deadly shoots through me. I'll tear his balls out through his throat if he's mean to her.
"Dear, sweet Jonas." Kelsey reaches up to rub her temples. "I forget that you guys live in a bubble that isn't like the rest of the world," she mumbles. "Your world is all fancy and privileged and kind of sad and lonely."
"I can never tell if you're insulting us or if you're on our side," I mutter.
"I'm a realist," she says, which tells me nothing. "Did you know Jamie graduated from Harvard at the top of her class?"
"No?" I knew she was smart, but go, baby girl!
"Do you know who her father is?"
"No?"
"Aiden Knight."
"Aiden Knight from Sports World?"
"Yep," Kelsey says.
"Jesus."
He's a legend. Literally. The man is a hall-of-fame sports reporter. He died over a decade ago in a car accident…leaving behind a son and the little girl who used to follow himeverywhere. Shit.She'sthat little girl. She used to play under the anchor desk while they were on the air.
"Do you really think her dreams involve reporting on inane gossip?" Kelsey asks, eyeing me critically. "Professional male athletes get million-dollar contracts. Female athletes are lucky if they break one hundred thousand a year. You guys get arenas and entire channels dedicated to your sports; women barely get news coverage. Male reporters get analyst positions, women spend their lives reporting on the sidelines."
"Shit," I mumble, my stomach sinking like a fucking stone. She's right.
"She's paying her dues because that's what women still have to do in this field,especiallywith men like her boss calling the shots," Kelsey continues. "She got picked up by ESPN because they're trying to diversify and offer more female-friendly programming, and female fans love her. ESPN wanted to capitalize on that, and her program was a sure bet since it comes with virtually no production costs for them. But everyone knows her boss is a sexist pig. And Jamie doesn't exactly look like she's living the dream from where I'm sitting. You can see it in her eyes. She isn't happy."
She's right. Jamie puts on a good show, but I've been watching her long enough to know that itisa show. Her smile isn't real. And the light in her eyes dims a little more every day. She isn't the same vivacious girl she was when she first started eleven months ago. Her light is fading.
"I'm an asshole." No, I'm whatever comesafterasshole. I'm the dingleberry. She's just trying to chase her dreams the only way she can, and I basically called her my enemy. I probably made her feel like shit when all she's trying to do is her damn job in a field that doesn't make it easy. That pig fucker is smothering it out of her…and I've been letting it happen.
Jesus. I had her in my arms and, like an idiot, I let her go. Itoldher to go.
"Where are you going?" Kelsey demands when I jump to my feet, heading for the door. "I thought you wanted to know about Theo's crisis."
"Later," I growl. "I have something to do."
I have to fix this. Right goddamn now.
Chapter Four
Jamie
"Delivery for you."
I glance up from my computer screen to see Mallory O'Neal standing in the doorway to my office, a giant bouquet of flowers in her arms. She toddles in on her tiptoes, trying to see over the top of the vivid pink and purple blooms.
"For me?" I gape, convinced she's mistaken. "Are you sure?"
"Positive." She deposits the crystal vase on the edge of my desk and beams at me. "The card has your name on it." Her bright smile causes her eyes to crinkle at the corners. "Tell whoever they're from that he can send me flowers any day. These are gorgeous." She strokes a finger gently along the petal of a pinkrose and then waves and slips out of my office, pulling the door closed behind her.
