“Now, Harlow.”
I have no idea what’s happening. Dan won’t even look at me.
“Philip, what’s going on?” I ask with a calm I’m not feeling.
He’s parked behind an enormous desk, black suit immaculate, not a hair out of place. Eyes an arctic blue so cold they chill me to the bone. His voice is even colder. “I give you a chance and this is how you repay me?”
I can barely breathe. My hands come up in question. “I’m sorry. I don’t know—”
“You should be. If you don’t have enough respect for yourself, I at least expect you to have it for PHR. For me.”
He shakes his head in disgust, tossing a sheaf of papers across the high-polish mahogany. The first thing I see is a picture from the wedding. It’s Wade and I standing together, his front to my back, his arms around me. Our heads tipped together.
It’s beautiful.
“Philip,” I whisper. “He’s a good man. The best. He’s—”
But then I see it. The next picture isn’t as clear, it’s older. But even without his name in bold letters, there would be no mistaking that the man—the boy—in the mugshot is Wade Grady.
“Another junkie. Worse. That’s an arrest for intent to sell.”
“No. He doesn’t do drugs. Dad—Philip,” I correct at his indignant cough, “where did you get this?” Based on the date, Wade would have been a minor. This should be sealed.
That night at the bar comes back to me. That bad blood with Collin, the guy who’d been the fuckup that nearly cost Wade his future. This has to be what he was talking about. “Let me call him. There’s an explanation. I know there is. This isn’t who Wade is. He’s so careful. He’s—”
God, he’s waiting on a contract.
Examining the printouts, I can see they came off the web. It’s from one of the hockey sites I’d been skimming before the wedding.
This picture is already out.
“We’ll sort this out. But I need to call Wade.” He must be going out of his mind.
“What you need to do is lose this player’s number. End it. Now.”
I didn’t hear him right. I couldn’t have. “Excuse me?”
“I won’t be embarrassed by you any more than I already have.”
“Dad—”
“Harlow. Remember where you are.”
I look around, and it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time.
“I know exactly where I am. I’m in my father’s office. Having a disagreement about the man I love.”
His laugh is like a slap in the face. “This isn’t about love. It’s not even about whether there’s some explanation, as you say. It’s about perception. It’s about showing you’re capable of putting this bank, this family, first. We don’t need this kind of association tainting our image.” He meets me with his level stare. “You’ve been desperate for my attention your whole life. Congratulations. You’ve got it. Think twice before you throw it away for some jock.”
Wade
Motherfucker!
I can’t reach her. I’ve called her phone a hundred times. Got in a cab and started heading to her office. Called the bank, lost my fucking mind getting passed from department to department, put on hold so long that I was actually in the lower atrium of PHR headquarters when I finally got Nettie on the line. But she didn’t know much more than I did. Harlow was apparently gone for the day and she wasn’t answering her phone.
This is bad.
Her name was listed with mine in the picture from the wedding. Her father’s and the bank too. This is everything she didn’t want, everything she was afraid of.
No.
This is one hundred times worse.
I should have told her about the arrest. When she asked about Collin, I should have explained in detail, right fucking then.
But hell, there was just so much going on.
I wasn’t hiding it. I figured I’d tell her someday, but it never even occurred to me that she’d find out about it like this. The charges had been dismissed. The records sealed. Hell, I’d actually thought the courthouse had them incinerated at some point.
So I didn’t tell her that at fifteen, he’d hidden drugs in my truck without me knowing it, then let me get arrested before coming clean. That he’d been the close call that could have cost me my career before I even had it. And now that close call has the potential to cost me Harlow.
Now I’m pacing in front of her apartment—Pete bellowing in my ear—praying she’ll come home, and when she does, she’ll give me the chance to explain.
“This is your career, Grady! Get your ass down here now.”
I shove a hand through my hair. He doesn’t get it. This is my life.
And then I see her coming around the corner and my heart stops. “I’ll call you back.”
I run down the block, my gut in knots.
Jesus, the hair that had been pinned into a perfect twist when I kissed her goodbye this morning hangs around her shoulders. Her eyes are red… and she’s fighting to get what looks like a phone out of some plastic clamshell.
“Harlow,” I pant, stopping in front of her. Ready to drop to my knees and beg her to believe that what’s been circulating isn’t the truth. To give me the chance to explain.
Her eyes meet mine and she drops everything and throws her arms around me. “Are you okay?” she gasps, clinging to me. “They took my phone and I—I didn’t remember your number to call.”
I pull her back, a new panic surging through me. “Who took your phone?”
Was she mugged? I’m checking her hands, her arms, her face—
“It was a company phone and when I left… Wade, your contract?”
My contract? That’s what she’s worried about?
“Harlow, why did you leave?”
Tears spill over her lids. “I quit. And thirty seconds later my father had security take my phone and walk me out. What happened—” She shakes her head and waves her hands around. “Wade, what happened today?”
“It’s a mistake. A misunderstanding. Damn it, honestly, I have no idea what happened or how this thing got out. But the arrest was a mistake. That thing with Collin from high school I should have told you about. The drugs were his and they threw out the charges when he came forward. I’ll explain, I-I will, but… You quit? Because of this?” The idea that I might have cost her the career she loves, something she’s worked so hard for, makes me sick. She told me her father wouldn’t approve. We talked about waiting to meet him. Letting her settle into her job first. Having a chance to prove herself. Christ.
And then her tyrant father finds out about her relationship from the news, and his first introduction to the guy she’s dating is a damn mugshot.
This is all my fault.
“Wade, I quit because I finally had to accept some hard truths about my father and the impact I’ve been allowing—no, inviting him to have on my life.”
“Harlow. I’m so sorry.”
Her hand comes up to my face. “I’m not. The things he said to me today… I always thought he didn’t see me. That he didn’t realize who he had right there in front of his face. But he did. He knew exactly how hard I’d been trying to get his attention… and he just didn’t want to give it to me.” She sniffs, sucking a quick breath. “I finally realized his attention isn’t worth having.”
“But the bank.” I know how she felt about that place.
Another shake of her head. “Before I met you, it felt like the bank was my whole life. I was afraid to lose it, but I don’t think it was because I loved it. It was all I had. It was the one thing that connected me to my father, and without it… I thought I would have had nothing.”
Christ, it kills me to think about how alone she’s been and for how long.
“The thing is, I’m the reason my world was so small. I was so focused on this singular unattainable goal, I shut out everything else, telling myself I didn’t have time, I didn’t have room, I didn’t need a life. And then I met you. And you showe
d me what I was missing. And I want it. I want a life. I want love. And most of all, I want you.”
I brush a bit of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “You have me. Harlow, I love you.”
She blinks as more tears fill her eyes, only this time her beautiful smile accompanies them. “I love you too.”
“Let’s go inside. We can talk and—”
“Someone’s seriously blowing up your phone.”
She’s right. It hasn’t stopped going off since I hung up on Pete. “My agent. He wants me to come in, try to get ahead of this thing. But I—I need to know you’re okay. We’re okay.”
Her brows shoot up and she wipes at her cheeks with the back of her wrist. “Wade, is this about your contract?”
And the endorsement. “Probably. Yes.”
“Wade! Get on your phone and order a Lyft. You need to get over there.”
Harlow
Wade doesn’t want to leave me, so I go along to the meeting. They set me up in a comfortable conference room that feels more like a living room with its pro-athlete-sized leather couch and enormous coffee table. I set up the prepaid phone I bought at 7-Eleven with a list of numbers Wade wrote down for me. It’s not a forever phone, but it’s enough for me to call Grace.
She answers on the first ring. “I’ve been calling and calling. What’s happening?”
“He’s okay. He’s been in meetings with his agent and they’ve got the lawyers involved. But mostly they’re working on damage control with the Slayers.”
I can hear Bill shouting at someone in the background, issuing threats I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of.
And then from closer, Kelsey. “Is it Wade? Tell him I can come to Chicago and help. Stay as long as he needs. Anything.”
I try not to bristle. We have bigger problems. So I ask, “Grace, I don’t know how long it will be before Wade can talk, but does anyone have an idea how this got out?”
So far, the answer is no. But the Gradys’ family and friends are making calls, checking to see if anyone’s seen or heard anything.
Within an hour, the lawyers are getting results from their end. The news and gossip sites begin updating their stories, posting apologies, and removing the mugshot that never should have been taken, let alone released.
Wade comes to check on me between meetings and calls.
He’s exhausted, but it’s me he keeps worrying about, pulling me onto his lap and holding me quietly before going back for more. It pays off, and the Slayers contract comes through. Pete thinks the endorsement will too, but eventually he sends us home for the night.
It’s not the celebration we’d planned, but it’s been such a trying day and there’s still so much up in the air, we order DoorDash and eat dinner on the couch and then crawl into bed together.
The next morning, Tommy’s talked to Collin and swears the guy had nothing to do with the arrest getting out. It’s a period of his life he’s tried to put behind him, and even Wade doesn’t think he’s got anything to do with it.
But there’s something in his eyes that has me sitting down beside him and taking his big hand in mine. “Wade. What’s going on? Did you hear back from Pete?”
He shakes his head and holds up his phone for me to see.
Kelsey: Can we talk?
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “You don’t think…”
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he hits Call.
“She’s still there?” comes Kelsey’s flat voice through the line.
“Yes.” Wade’s head drops forward.
She sighs, and the answer no one wanted to consider is there in that hopeless sound. It was her. “I thought she would leave when she saw it. I thought she’d leave and you’d see that she wasn’t the one for you. And then when the truth came out, you’d already know that she wasn’t the woman who would stick by your side and love you through everything.”
“Fuck, Kelsey. How could you do it? Why?”
“Because I’ve been here this whole time,” she sniffs. “Right here, waiting for you to realize what you could have if you would just take it. Waiting for you to come home and have the life we’re supposed to. You coaching hockey. Me, cheering you on.”
Wade’s eyes meet mine. We’re both seeing it. The dinner with his family. Her shock that he might not come back to Enderson after the NHL. I text his parents. She loves them, and until today I’d have bet my life she would never hurt anyone in their family. But now I don’t know.
She lets out a short laugh. “Instead, you choose someone who doesn’t understand you. Who would rather hide you from her family than stand proud beside you. I thought… maybe it was time for you to have a lesson in disappointment.”
Grace’s text comes back in seconds. Kelsey’s not at the house. Her car is gone. Bill’s calling the police.
“Where are you?” Wade asks, eyes bleak.
“The courthouse. I sent the files from work. I didn’t think about it when I did it. But I heard Bill asking about tracing the emails… They’re going to go back to my terminal.”
“Jesus.”
It’s quiet for a moment, then she has to go. Her boss is there, and she’s going to tell him what she’s done.
When we update Pete and the lawyers, they think she’s looking at fines more than jail time. She’ll lose her job.
But Wade and I both know, the price that will be the hardest for her to pay will be losing his family.
I ask if Wade wants a minute to talk to his parents alone, but he pulls me into his side, holding me close as we call. Grace is a mess and Bill is quiet. They blame themselves, but Wade assures them it’s not their fault. That he was the one who hadn’t been honest enough about the situation with Kelsey.
And when I take his hand and quietly tell him I’m sure… he explains the rest. About us. How it started. Where we are now. That he loves me.
And when Grace says she loves me too, I start crying again.
Wade
It’s been a fucked-up couple of days. But Harlow and I held each other through them and we’re coming out the other side stronger. Together.
And now we’re figuring out what life is going to look like going forward.
Spoiler: It’s looking good.
Harlow’s phone is the one blowing up these days. She’s gotten a ton of offers already, and the headhunters keep coming. But she’s taking her time and weighing her choices. Letting the PHR competition wine and dine her.
She’s kind of delighted by the whole thing and, man, nothing’s better than seeing that smile.
Pete was able to hang on to the endorsement. And to celebrate, we decided to move in together. Harlow’s the one who brought it up, but I’d been thinking about it since the night we got back from Enderson. So it didn’t take much dirty talking to get me on board.
The guys are giving me relentless shit. Not about Harlow—they love her. But about the whole “be the bunny” business. Needless to say, Axel has been running his mouth. I can’t wait for the day he meets the right girl and I get to pay him back with interest.
Hell, what am I thinking? This guy’s a contender for the Lifetime Player Award. He’ll never settle down.
Besides, “Be the bunny” got me Harlow.
So life is good. I love Harlow. My family loves Harlow. And my friends love her too. Now I just need to get my girl to love hockey.
Epilogue
Harlow
One Month Later
“Grace, I can’t believe you did this!” I’m parked on our living room sofa with Grace on speaker, the contents of the care package she sent spread out on the coffee table before me. Wade’s working out and won’t be home for a few hours, but this package was addressed to me and me alone. And I couldn’t wait!
There’s an assortment of flavored teas, a tiny vial of glitter that’s sealed with a sticker that has Wade’s name on it with a giant X through it. There’s a tin of homemade cookies and a leather-bound book that made me cry when I opened it.
She started a scrapbook for us.
And Wade must have known, because there’s a crazy bad picture that has to be from his phone, taken from the night at the club. There are receipts from all the gas stations we stopped at on the way to Enderson and then picture after picture—some I didn’t even realize had been taken—of us with his family and us with his friends. Of us starting something real.
It took me several tissues to get past that one. But then she asked if I’d seen what else she sent. And sure enough, there was more.
“Cheat sheets?” I ask, laughing at the binder she compiled with the Slayers team roster and a short dossier on each of the players with the information she found most interesting about them.
Spoiler: It’s not their stats. And Grace noticed the same thing about Boomer’s little sister, Piper, and Bowie that I did.
“I know how you like to study up on everything. And seeing as how you’re an official hockey girlfriend, I thought this might be a good way to start.”
There’s a list of hockey terminology. Websites for gossip and news. Pictures of Wade on every team he’s played with—including football—with his numbers and stats. Team rivalries and traded players.
All in clear plastic page protectors that make me love this woman even more than I thought I could.
“Go to the back,” she tells me, excitement in her voice.
I flip through and find several more pages with burned CDs tucked into sleeves and labeled with pictures of Wade dressed in his hockey gear.
“Are these his games?”
“In order. As many as we had from all the way back to Mites. He was so cute. I snuck a couple of his old football games in there too. He was spectacular.”
When we hang up, I dig around to find something to play them on and then put the first one in.
I don’t even know how many hours I’ve been sitting here, but I’m perched on the edge of the couch, my hands clutched in front of me, breath held, riveted to the last seconds of a game played six years ago. Wade’s doing the impossible… on skates. He takes the puck off his opponent’s stick. Passes it through the other guy’s legs to himself.
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