by Alison Kent
“It was pretty much confirmed to me today that your dad fixed those games.”
Her gaze rose to meet his, her mouth forming a startled O. “You’re saying you know for sure that he did it?”
Damn. Maybe he shouldn’t have spit it out the way he had, but the confrontation with Wyatt had been troubling him all night and he’d been hoping to talk it through with Hayden before the league’s investigator interviewed him. He knew he’d have to tell the truth if asked, but he’d wanted her advice, wanted her to tell him how to handle the time bomb in his hands without looking like he was betraying his teammates or the team owner.
But he hadn’t realized confiding in Hayden meant confirming her doubts about her father. Up until now she’d only suspected Presley had fixed those games, but with that one sentence he’d turned those suspicions into reality, and the crestfallen look on her face tugged at his insides in the most powerful way.
He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.
So he kept his distance, leaned against the counter and released a slow breath. “Yes, he did it. I’m ninety-nine-percent sure of it.”
“Ninety-nine percent,” she repeated. “Then there’s still a chance Dad wasn’t involved.”
“It’s unlikely.”
“But there’s still a chance.”
“Look, Hayden, I know you want to see the best in your father, but you’re going to need to accept that he’s probably guilty.”
Her eyes widened, the color in her cheeks fading fast. “Are you going to tell the investigator that? You’re going to say my dad is guilty?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to say yet.”
He could see her legs shaking as she walked across the tiled floor toward him. Eyes wild with panic, she placed one palm on his bare arm and tilted her head to look up at him. “You can’t do it, Brody. Please, don’t turn against my father.”
HAYDEN DIDN’T KNOW where the words were coming from but she seemed to have no control over her vocal cords. In the back of her head she knew what she was asking of him was wrong, that if Presley was truly guilty he deserved to pay for his crimes. But this was her father, the only parent she had, the only constant in her life.
“You want me to lie?” Brody said flatly.
She swallowed. “No, I…maybe if you just didn’t say anything…”
“Lying by omission is still lying, Hayden. And what if they straight out ask me if Presley bribed anyone? What do I do then?”
Desperation clawed up her throat. She knew she had no right asking him to do this for her, but she couldn’t watch her father’s entire life shatter before her eyes. “He’s my only family,” she said softly. “I just want to protect him.”
Compassion flickered in Brody’s eyes, but it quickly faded into annoyance. “What about me? Don’t I deserve to be protected, too?”
“Your career isn’t at stake,” she protested.
“Like hell it isn’t!” His eyes flashed. “My integrity and reputation are on the line here, Hayden. I won’t throw away my career by lying to protect the team owner, not even for you.”
She nearly stumbled backward, assaulted by the force of his words.
She suddenly felt so very stupid. What the hell had she been thinking, asking him to lie for her dad? Her only defense was that she hadn’t been thinking. For a split second there, the fear seizing her insides was so strong it had overpowered her ability to think logically. Suddenly she’d been the lonely little girl who’d grown up without a mother, who didn’t want to see her father carted off to jail even if it meant breaking the rules to keep him out of a cell.
What was the matter with her? She wasn’t the type of woman who broke rules. And she didn’t condone lies, either.
God, she couldn’t believe she’d just asked Brody to throw away his honesty and honor.
With shaky steps, she walked over to him and pressed her face against his chest. She could feel his heart thudding against her ear like a drum. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to lie. It was unfair of me to do that. I’m…” She choked on a sob. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
His warm hand caressed the small of her back. “It’s okay. I know you’re concerned about him, babe.” Brody pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“I just wish…Damn it, Brody, I want to help him.”
“I know,” he said gently. “But your dad is the one who got himself into this mess, and I hate to say it, but he’s the one who’ll have to get himself out of it.”
HAYDEN’S CELL PHONE woke her early the next morning, rousing her from a restless sleep and making her groan with displeasure. She was on her side, her back pressed against Brody’s big warm body, one of his long arms draped over her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the ringing to stop. A second of blessed silence, and then it rang again. And again. And again.
With a sigh, she disentangled herself from Brody’s arms and slid out from under the covers. The sight of the alarm clock on Brody’s nightstand made her grimace. Six o’clock. Who on earth was calling her this early?
“Come back to bed,” came Brody’s sleepy murmur.
“I will after I murder whoever keeps calling,” she grumbled, padding barefoot to the armchair under the window. Her clothes and purse were draped over the chair, and she rummaged around in the pile until she found her cell.
Looking at the display, she immediately recognized Darcy’s number. Uh-oh. This probably wasn’t good. Not if Darcy was giving up her own beauty sleep to make a call.
Hayden flipped open the phone and said, “What’s wrong?”
“Have you seen the morning paper?”
“That’s what you woke me up to ask?” Hayden edged to the door, not wanting to disturb Brody. She leaned against the wall in the hallway and added, “And what are you doing up early enough to read the morning paper? Do you even subscribe to the paper?”
“I never went to bed last night.” Hayden could practically see the grin on her best friend’s face. “And, no, I don’t get the paper. But Marco does. Marco, by the way, is my new personal trainer.”
“At the rate you’re going, you’ll never be able to find a permanent gym, Darce.” She let out a breath. “Now tell me what’s so important about today’s newspaper.”
“You.”
“Me?”
“You’re in it, hon. Front page of the sports section, with your hockey player’s tongue in your mouth and his hands on your ass.”
She nearly choked. “You’re making it up!”
“I’m afraid not.”
Horror lodged in her throat. Darcy sounded serious. And if Darcy couldn’t make a smart-ass remark about it, then it must be bad.
“I’ll call you back in a minute,” Hayden blurted, disconnecting the call.
The T-shirt Brody had given her to sleep in hung all the way down to her knees, but her arms were bare and goose bumps had risen on her skin. She wrapped her arms around her chest and hurried down the stairs two at a time. In the front hall, she unlocked the door and poked her head out, darting forward when she saw the rolled-up newspaper on the porch. The wooden floor was cool under her feet, making her shiver. Snatching up the newspaper, she headed back inside, pulling the paper from its protective plastic as she wandered into the living room.
She sank down on the couch, found the sports section, and gasped. Darcy was right. The first page boasted a large photograph of her and Brody in the Warrior arena parking lot. It must have been taken the moment she’d stood up on her toes to kiss him, and there was no mistaking it, his hands really were on her butt.
The caption read, “Warriors forward cozies up to team owner’s daughter.”
But it was the article beneath it that drained all the color from her face. She read it twice, not missing a single word, then set the paper on the cushion next to her and dropped her head into her hands.
“What happened?”
She jerked up at the sound of Brody’s drowsy voice, to see him stan
ding in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of navy-blue boxers and a concerned expression.
Without a word, Hayden pointed to the newspaper beside her. After a second of hesitation, Brody joined her on the couch and picked up the section.
She watched his face as he read the article, but he gave nothing away. Blinked a couple of times, frowned once, and finally rose slowly to his feet. “I need coffee,” he muttered before walking out of the room.
Hayden stared after him in bewilderment, then shot up and rushed into the kitchen. Brody was already turning on the coffeemaker, leaning against the counter with a look of utter disbelief in his gorgeous blue eyes.
“They’re saying I took a bribe,” he said softly.
She moved toward him and rested her hand on his strong bicep. “It’s just speculation, Brody. They don’t have any proof.”
“They have a source!” he burst out, his voice resonating with anger. “Someone actually told that reporter I took bribes from your father. This isn’t a tabloid, where the so-called reporters make up sources to suit their story. Greg Michaels is an award-winning sports journalist—and someone on the team told him I took a goddamn bribe!”
Hayden’s mouth went completely dry. She could barely keep up with the range of emotions flashing across Brody’s face. Anger and betrayal and dismay. Shock and disgust. Fear. She wanted desperately to hold him, but his posture was so tense, his shoulders stiff, his jaw tight, every aspect of his body language screaming back off!
“Someone is trying to ruin me,” he snapped. “Who the hell would do that? I know Wyatt is up to his ears in this mess, but I can’t see him casting suspicion on me. He told me to stay out of it.”
His eyes were suddenly on her, focused, sharp, as if realizing she was in the room with him. “They think you’re sleeping with me to shut me up about your father’s part in it.” He laughed humorlessly.
Sympathy welled up inside her, squeezing her heart like a vise. “It’s going to be okay, Brody. Everything will get cleared up when you meet with the interviewer.”
Another chuckle, this time laced with bitterness. “All it takes is one black mark on your name and teams look at you differently.”
The coffeemaker clicked, and Brody turned his attention to it. Grabbing a mug from the cabinet over the sink, he slammed it down on the counter, filled it to the brim with coffee and swallowed a gulp of the scalding liquid, not even wincing.
Hayden had no idea what to say. How to make this better for him. So instead she just stood there, waiting, watching his face, trying to anticipate the next outburst.
But she wasn’t ready for what he said next.
“I think maybe we should cool things off for a bit.”
Shock slammed into her. “What?”
Setting down his mug, Brody rubbed his forehead. “I can’t be dragged down along with your father,” he said, so quietly she barely heard him. “If you and I are seen together, the rumors and suspicions will only grow. My career…”
He let out a string of curses. “I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am, Hayden. I grew up wearing secondhand clothes and watching my parents struggle to afford anything. And finally, finally, I’m in a position to support myself, to support them. I can’t lose that. I won’t lose it.”
“You’re breaking up with me?”
He dragged his fingers through his hair, his eyes tortured. “I’m saying maybe we should put…us…on hold. Until the investigation concludes and the scandal blows over.”
“You want to put us on hold,” she echoed dully.
“Yes.”
She turned away, resting her hands on the kitchen counter to steady herself. He was breaking up with her? Sorry, putting things on hold. Not that it made a difference. Regardless of the way he wanted to word it, Brody was pretty much telling her he didn’t want her around.
Everything he’d said last night about how good they were for each other, how well they fit…what had happened to all that, huh?
The memory of the words he’d spoken only yesterday caused the bitterness swimming through her body to grow stronger. It was like a current, forcing all reason from her mind and pushing her into an eddy of resentment she knew too well. How many times had her father chosen his hockey team over her? How many times had the men in her life let their careers take the front seat while she sat in the back begging to be noticed?
“All right. If that’s what you want,” she said, unable to stop her tone from sounding clipped and angry. “I guess you need to look out for yourself, after all.”
His eyes clouded. “Don’t make it sound like that, Hayden. Like I don’t give a damn about you. Because I do give a damn. You can’t fault me for also giving a damn about everything I’ve worked so hard for.”
She edged away from the counter, suddenly wanting to flee. Maybe it was for the best, ending it now. They’d already reached an impasse yesterday, when she’d told him his lifestyle didn’t fit what she wanted in a relationship. Maybe it was better to break things off now, before it got even harder.
But although it made sense in her head, her heart couldn’t stop weeping at the idea of not being with Brody.
Silence stretched between them, until Brody released a frustrated curse and raked his hands through his dark hair. “I care about you, Hayden. The last thing I want to do is end this.” He shook his head, looking determined. “And I don’t see it as an ending. I just want this mess to go away. I want my name cleared and my career unaffected. When it all dies down, we can pick up where we left off.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Because it’s that easy, right?” Her laughter died, replaced with a tired frown. “It would have ended anyway, Brody. Sooner or later.”
Anguish flooded his gaze. “Come on, don’t say that. This break doesn’t have to be permanent.”
“Maybe it should.” A sob wedged in her throat and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to swallow it back. “We’re probably doing ourselves a favor by letting go now. Maybe it will end up saving us both a lot of heartache in the future.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but she didn’t give him the chance. Blinking back the tears stinging her eyelids, she headed back to the bedroom to find her clothes.
12
THE CAB RIDE to the arena, where she’d left her car, was probably the most mortifying experience of Hayden’s life. Somehow, while she’d gotten dressed, called the cab, murmured a soft goodbye to Brody, she’d managed to rein in her emotions. But the second she slid into the backseat and watched Brody’s beautiful house disappear in the rearview mirror, she’d burst into tears.
Looking stunned, the taxi driver handed her a small packet of tissues then promptly ignored her. Despite the tears fogging her eyes she noticed the man shooting her strange looks in the mirror. Apparently it wasn’t every day that a brokenhearted woman in tears rode in his cab.
And brokenhearted was the only word she could come up with to describe how she felt right now. Although she’d told Brody the breakup was for the best, her heart was aching so badly it felt like someone had scraped it with a razor blade. All she wanted to do was go back to the penthouse, crawl under the covers and cry.
The cab driver dropped her at the arena, where she got into her rental car, swiped at her wet eyes and took a few calming breaths.
Fifteen excruciatingly long minutes later, she was walking into the hotel, hoping nobody noticed her blotchy face. In the lobby, the clerk behind the check-in desk gestured at her. She reluctantly headed over and was surprised when he said, “There’s a man waiting for you in the bar.”
Hope and happiness soared inside her. Brody? He would’ve definitely had time to get here before her, since she’d had to pick up her car. Maybe he realized how foolish it was to end things because of something a reporter had written.
She hurried across the marble floor toward the large oak doors leading into the hotel bar. Only a few patrons were inside, and when she searched for Brody’s massive shoulders and unrul
y dark hair, she came up empty-handed. Disappointment crashed into her like a tidal wave. Of course he wasn’t here. He’d made it clear back at his place that he couldn’t risk his career by being seen with her.
She glanced around again, then gasped when her attention landed on a man she’d dismissed during her first inspection.
Doug.
Oh, God. What was he doing here?
“Hayden!” He walked toward her with a timid smile.
She stared at him, taking in the familiar sight of his blond hair, arranged in a no-nonsense haircut. His pale blue eyes, serious as always. That lean, trim body he kept in shape at the university gym. He wore a pair of starched tan slacks and a crisp, white button-down shirt, and the conservative attire kind of irked her. Everything about Doug was neat and orderly and unbelievably tedious. She found herself longing for even the tiniest bit of disorder. An undone button. A coffee stain. A patch of stubble he’d missed while shaving.
But there was nothing disorderly about this man. He was like a perfectly wrapped gift that only used three efficient pieces of tape and featured a little bow with the same length tails. The kind of gift you hesitated to open because you’d feel like an ass messing it up.
Brody, on the other hand…Now he was a gift you tore open the second you got it—the exterior didn’t matter because you knew what it contained inside was a million times better anyway.
Tears stung her eyes at the thought.
“Hi,” Doug said gently. “It’s good to see you.”
She wanted to tell him it was good to see him, too, but the words refused to come out. They stared at each other for a moment, and then he was pulling her into an awkward embrace. She halfheartedly hugged him back, noticing that the feel of his arms around her had no effect on her whatsoever.
“I know I shouldn’t have come,” Doug said, releasing her. “But after the way we left things…I thought we needed to talk. In person.”