Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Zena

The Nashville morning greeted us with a crisp breeze and the promise of more chaos as Nolan and I entered Frothy Monkey to grab breakfast. We'd agreed that caffeine and carbs were essential before diving into the Mitch-shaped mess we'd created. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon practically yanked us through the door by our nostrils.

As we emerged back outside with our order—two steaming cups of liquid sanity, two muffins, and a pair of bacon, egg, and cheddar bagel sandwiches, we spotted an empty bench bathed in sunlight. It was too tempting to resist, especially when the alternative was returning to our hotel room, aka the scene of last night's disaster.

We had barely unwrapped our sandwiches when our attention was caught by two women who looked to be in their late thirties to early forties, sitting on a bench nearby and drinking coffee. One was blonde, and the other had long auburn hair, like mine. They were dressed in form-fitting yoga outfits that suggested they'd come from a workout, their energy levels betraying a serious caffeine buzz.

Their animated conversation was impossible to ignore, their voices carrying easily over the mild bustle of the morning crowd walking by. As they gesticulated wildly, nearly spilling their to-go cups, I found myself drawn into their enthusiastic exchange despite my best efforts to focus on my breakfast.

"I feel bad that the Predators got hammered, and I may sound like a traitor, but don't you love the way Mitch Redding moves?" the woman with auburn hair gushed. "Look at those legs and those hips!" She appeared to be showing her friend a photo or video on her phone. "I'd love to see him twerk while he skates."

Her friend laughed. "He's the enemy, and you're definitely a traitor, but there are plenty of women who would pay to see that. He could even do a tour. Twerking on Ice!"

The first woman held up an index finger. "Or better yet, Twerk du Soleil!"

Nolan turned to me and whispered, "Okay, what exactly is twerking?"

"It's a suggestive dance where you thrust your hips and?—"

He held up his hand. "Stop right there. If I visualize Mitch doing that, my food will come back up."

"I'm sure he cleans up nicely in a suit," the blonde replied.

"I prefer a swimsuit, so I can see those abs," auburn hair said. "I hear he's single, you know."

"You can have him," the first woman said, playfully swatting her friend's arm. "I watched an interview on social media a few days ago, and he's better with his mouth shut. He's a little too arrogant for my taste."

"A little?" Nolan joked, earning him a smack on the side of his leg from me.

"Keep it down," I hissed. "They might hear you."

"You mean like me and half the street can hear them?" Nolan raised an eyebrow at me. "Is this what women talk about when men are not around?"

I shrugged. "Jing and I are too busy running mental laps around most men to bother talking about their physical attributes."

Nolan chuckled. "I have no comeback for that. You win."

"I would do anything to meet Mitch," the woman said. "And I would marry him in a heartbeat. I like my men wild and untamed."

I shook my head and whispered to Nolan, "Love is blind."

He glanced over at the women. "It goes to show you that there's someone for everyone. Even cavemen eventually end up putting a ring on it."

I wiggled my finger with Dad's stuck engagement ring. "Speaking of that, we still need to figure out a way to get this off my finger. I'm paranoid that something is going to happen to it."

Nolan and I had tried everything from soap to dental floss—we even borrowed Windex from housekeeping at the hotel, but the ring wouldn't budge.

"That's the least of our worries," Nolan said. "Your dad won't need it back for at least a couple of weeks. Keep your hand in your pocket if you're around him. The question is, how are we going to convince Mitch to not quit the team? We need to make sure he plays the rest of the season."

"After a good night's sleep, he'll come to his senses," I offered weakly.

"We can always hope," Nolan replied, not sounding convinced. "But we need to find out today, preferably this morning. We can't just go to Tampa and hope he shows up to the game."

"Definitely not," I said. "Okay, we'd better get back to the hotel and see if we can talk with him."

We finished our food and drained the rest of our coffees, then my phone rang. I checked the caller ID and frowned.

"It's Dad—I have to pick up," I said.

Nolan's eyes widened. "Don't mention anything about the ring."

I nodded and answered, "Hi, Dad."

"Is Nolan with you?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied, confused by the question. "Why? What's going on?"

Dad's voice exploded through the phone. "I got a call from Coach Quinn. Mitch was MIA for the team breakfast this morning, and he missed the meeting afterward. He's not answering his cell. I even had someone check his hotel room, and he's not there. Do you know where he is?"

Dread settled in the pit of my stomach as I answered no.

"What happened?" Dad demanded. "Last night's game was perfect and everything had been going according to plan. Why would he disappear like that? Did you see him last night?"

I hesitated, but decided to come clean. "Yes, we saw him. Mitch sort of came to our room last night and had a meltdown. He had us up against the wall and accused us of faking our relationship. We were blindsided, so we told him we were getting married."

"And he believed you?" Dad asked.

"Yes!" I said. "That's when he said he was quitting the team."

"What?!" Dad yelled, almost blowing out my ear.

"Nolan tried to talk him out of it, but we had no idea if it worked," I said.

Dad's reaction was immediate and explosive. In the background, I could hear Mom trying to calm him down, mentioning his heart, as usual.

"It certainly does not sound like it worked if he skipped breakfast and the meeting," he said. "Why didn't you tell me this last night?"

"It was late!" I explained. "I was going to tell you this morning, and now that you know, we need to figure out our next move."

"I'll tell you exactly what you're going to do!" Dad shot back. "Find Mitch and tell him you and Nolan broke up."

"What?" I said, staring at Nolan in horror. "What about the plan?"

"Abort the plan! It's useless if he's not on the team," Dad said.

My mind whirled with the consequences of telling Mitch I was single again. There had to be a better option. First things first. We needed to find him.

"Do we still have the BMW?" I asked.

"Yes—it's with the valet here at the hotel, but it has to be returned this afternoon before we fly to Tampa," he answered. "Come and get it if you need it, but make sure Mitch is on that plane with the team. That is your number one priority. Understood?"

The phone went silent before I could answer.

I shook my head in frustration. "I hate when he hangs up without saying goodbye."

Nolan rubbed my back to comfort me. "Sorry you have to deal with this. It's all my fault."

I shook my head. "Don't blame yourself for this. The odds were stacked against us to carry on this charade until the end of the season, and the ring complicated things. I didn't think things would implode so quickly."

"Me neither," Nolan said. "Your father didn't sound happy. I could hear him yelling at you."

I nodded. "He was furious. And now he wants us to bail on the plan and tell Mitch we broke up, to get him to change his mind about quitting."

"But if we do that, he'll assume the door is open to go out with you again," Nolan said. "He'll keep pestering you, and I doubt he'll let up."

"Believe me, I know," I said, feeling completely lost. "We need to come up with something else, something much better. What would interest him that is not me? And money is not an option. He's got plenty now."

Nolan shrugged. "Do you have a twin sister?"

"No, but even if I did, it would be cruel to subject her to spending time with him," I said, glancing back at the two women on the other bench. "I have an idea."

Nolan followed my gaze, understanding dawning on his face. "A Zena-substitute for Mitch?"

"Why not?" I asked. "Maybe we just need to dangle a tempting carrot in front of the horse's mouth to make him forget about me and move on."

Nolan's gaze was still on the women when he said, "It's uncanny, but the one with the auburn hair looks a little like you, only a little older." He turned back to me. "I like the idea, but how do we make it happen?"

"That's something we need to figure out, but first, we have to find Mitch," I said, tapping his number on my phone, my heart pounding.

His voice was icy when he answered. "Yeah …"

"Hello, Mitch," I said, trying to keep my tone light. "How are you doing?"

"How do you think I'm doing?" he replied, his tone flat. "I found out the woman I wanted is engaged to another man."

"I'm so sorry about that," I said. "I heard you skipped the player's breakfast and meeting. Does that mean you're still thinking of quitting the team?"

"Abso-freaking-lutely," he said.

"Where are you? We should talk," I pressed.

"There's nothing to talk about since you're getting married," Mitch replied bitterly.

"There are some things you should know," I vaguely said.

"No," he firmly said. "I'm hanging up."

"Wait!" I exclaimed, now so desperate I knew there was only one thing I could say that would appeal to him. "I broke it off with Nolan."

Silence filled the call.

"Hello?" I said. "Are you still there?"

"Do you expect me to believe that?" Mitch finally responded.

"Yes," I said firmly.

"How do I know you're not saying that to get me to play with the team?" he asked.

"That's why I want to talk in person," I insisted. "I promise, everything will make sense when I see you. And I have a surprise for you."

After a long pause, he asked, "What kind of surprise?"

"I can't tell you that, but I promise you'll like it," I said. "Where are you?"

Luckily, he finally relented and said, "I'm at the Hermitage."

"The home of President Andrew Jackson?" I asked.

Mitch sighed. "No. The golf course."

"Oh, okay," I said. "Why are you there?"

"I love the smell of fresh-cut grass," he explained.

This was definitely a side of Mitch I never knew.

"Promise me you'll stay there," I said. "I'm on my way."

"Fine," Mitch agreed reluctantly.

"Oh, and can you send me a selfie?" I asked.

"Why?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

I scrambled for an excuse, but could only come up with, "Just because."

There was a pause, then a sigh. "All right, whatever."

"Thanks. See you soon," I said, ending the call.

A minute later, my phone pinged with a photo of Mitch standing in front of the pro shop of the golf course, looking broody as usual.

I turned to Nolan. "We need to go convince the two women to come with us."

"Let's do it," Nolan said.

We tossed our empty cups and bags into the trash can and approached the animated duo.

"Sorry for interrupting," I said to them. "I'm Zena, and this is Nolan. We couldn't help overhearing your earlier conversation about Mitch Redding."

The women exchanged skeptical glances.

"And?" the blonde said.

"Well, my family owns the Sea Lions, and we're trying to honor our fans who live outside of San Diego. How would you like to meet Mitch in person?"

They stared at me.

"I'm serious," I added. "You can meet him right now."

The one closest to me crossed her arms. "No way. This is a scam."

"I agree," the other with auburn hair said, eyeing me up and down. "Things like this just don't happen. Who are you? Are you going to abduct us?"

"She's telling the truth," Nolan said. "The owner's name is Everett Dalton. This is his daughter, Zena."

"Prove it," the blonde demanded.

"Google her name and the Sea Lions and look at all the results that pop up with her picture," Nolan said.

"Yes, you can do that, and you can also look at this." I pulled my ID from my wallet and flashed the name on my driver's license. I handed her a Sea Lions Foundation business card and shared the selfie of Mitch at the golf course. "He sent this picture to me a few minutes ago. He's waiting for us at this very moment, but if you don't want to meet him, I can ask someone else."

The women glanced at each other and squealed so loud that people on the sidewalk turned to stare.

"This is a miracle!" auburn hair said. "I literally had a dream about him last night after the game. Mitch was dressed as a knight, but instead of a sword, he was wielding his hockey stick. He was fighting a dragon made entirely of ice, and every time he whacked the dragon in the head, a giant 7-Eleven Slurpee would come out of a spigot and drip into my mouth."

I seriously did not know how to respond to that.

"Okay, ladies," Nolan interjected, trying to steer the conversation back to reality. "You can tell us more in the car, but we need to go if you want to meet him. He won't wait forever."

"I'm going to wet my britches," she said as she stood, fanning herself dramatically. "Or drop dead right here. Maybe both."

We headed to Dad's hotel to get the BMW from the valet. During that time, we talked about hockey and found out their names were Bonnie and Belle, with the latter being the Slurpee and Mitch enthusiast.

Nolan drove us in the BMW with the top down, while the women could barely contain themselves in the backseat. Belle continued to gush about Mitch the entire way.

Nolan glanced at them in the rearview mirror, trying to calm them down. "Take deep breaths and try to act naturally around him. Remember, he's a person, like you and me. We don't want to scare him away."

Belle scoffed. "Let's be clear. Mitch is a god."

Nolan shot me a frightened glance, as if he were also wondering if this new plan was about to backfire on us.

I twisted around to glance back at Belle and Bonnie with what I hoped was a convincing smile. "Ladies, how would you like tickets to see the Sea Lions play in Tampa tomorrow?"

Bonnie's eyes dimmed. "That sounds amazing, but there's no way we could afford a last-minute flight and hotel."

"It's all expenses paid," I explained, trying to keep it casual. "Flight, hotel, tickets, and meals. You'll be staying at the same hotel as the players. All you have to do is tell Mitch you're going to Tampa and can't wait to watch him play. Tell him the truth, that he's the best."

Belle raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious. "What's the catch?"

I sighed, deciding honesty was the best policy. Well, partial honesty. "Mitch is thinking of skipping the game. We need you to convince him to change his mind. But don't mention our plan or that I'm paying for the trip. If he finds out, he won't go, and he'll never speak to you again."

Belle grinned confidently. "Don't worry about a thing. I have experience dealing with a man like that. I'll have him eating out of the palm of my hand in five minutes flat."

I nodded, hoping she was right.

We were out of options.

As Nolan pulled into the golf course parking lot, we spotted Mitch leaning against a bright yellow Ferrari. He'd obviously rented it because he had no plans of traveling with the team. Luckily, Mitch was talking on his phone and didn't see us arrive.

"What a dreamboat," Belle said.

While the four of us got out of the car, Nolan said, "Remember to act natural when you meet him. He may not like it if you come on too strong, like a lot of his fans do. Pretend like you meet guys like him all the time. You're different. You're unique."

"Wait here at the car for me, I won't be long," I said.

"Are you sure?" Nolan asked.

I nodded. "Yup. I've got this. I'll motion for Belle to join me when the moment is right."

I approached Mitch as he pocketed his phone.

"Why is he here if you two called it quits?" Mitch's voice was sharp, accusatory as he gestured back to Nolan.

I inhaled deeply, steeling myself. "I needed a ride. Don't worry, he's not coming over here. You and I can talk."

I could see Mitch's posture softening a fraction. "Okay, I'll start. Now that you're single again, I want another shot, Zena."

I nodded, trying to find the right words to let him know that would not happen, regardless of Nolan, hoping he would understand and return to the team.

"Mitch, I need to be honest with you," I said. "Nolan and I may not be in a good place, romantically speaking, but we're still close friends. I know that won't be easy for you. I think it's only fair that I tell you I've taken a break from dating altogether. I'm going to focus on my career and personal growth for a while. It's not fair to you, Nolan, or anyone else for me to be in a relationship right now when I'm not emotionally available. I hope you understand."

He sighed and ran his hand down his face, thinking. "How do I know this is not an excuse?"

I shrugged. "You don't, but I hope you will be man enough to accept it and move on with your life. There are so many fish in the sea and you never know who could be right around the corner waiting for you. Someone perfect, who truly gets you. Oh, that reminds me, I forgot the surprise I had for you!"

I waved over to the BMW where Belle was watching intently, waiting for my sign. She practically sprinted toward us as Nolan and Bonnie hung back. Mitch watched her approach with curiosity.

"This is Belle," I said. "We met downtown and hit it off, and I found out she is your biggest fan."

Belle stepped forward confidently, planting a kiss on his cheek. "I finally get to meet the ‘Decapitator' in person. Should I be scared?" She laughed.

"Only if you're on the other team, sweetheart." He winked, the flirtatious undertone unmistakable as he eyed her yoga outfit.

I was fascinated by how effortlessly he switched from the brooding, angry man I'd been dealing with to this almost playful version I did not know existed. He responded well to flattery.

Belle shot him a playful glance. "Then I guess I'm on your team, Mitch."

"Good call," he said.

"By the way, that first goal last night was incredible." Her eyes never left Mitch's face. "I've never seen anyone move like that on the ice. Ever."

Mitch leaned in slightly and whispered suggestively, "It's all in the hips."

"I'm sure it is," she said, glancing down at his lower half. "I can't wait to see you play in Tampa. I've already got the flight and hotel, but Zena said there was a possibility you were not going. Is that true?"

Mitch glanced at me briefly before getting his eyes back on Belle. "I'm not sure."

"That would be such a shame if you weren't there," she said. "You know, I have a twelve-year-old nephew with posters of you on his wall. He wants to be you when he grows up, like thousands of kids. Please don't disappoint him." She shrugged, a smile forming on her face. "I would be disappointed as well. I'll be staying at your hotel."

"Is that right?" Mitch asked with a grin.

Their body language spoke volumes, but I was tiring of listening to this conversation. Luckily, I wouldn't have to much longer.

"Nice car," she said, eyeing the Ferrari.

"It's a rental, but I've got two at home," Mitch said. "Want to go for a ride?"

Belle's eyes lit up. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Hop in," he said, his eyes never leaving her. "I'll be right there."

Belle beamed as she slid into the Ferrari's passenger seat. The car door closed with a soft click, then she waved enthusiastically at Bonnie, as if she were simply heading out for a quick coffee run rather than leaving her best friend behind.

Mitch turned to me again. "Thanks for the introduction. She's intriguing."

"You're welcome," I replied, then added, "Don't forget about Tampa. The team needs you there, and Belle will be watching."

Mitch nodded, but as he turned to leave, his eyes suddenly locked onto my hand. His whole body tensed.

"Why are you still wearing that ring if you and Nolan are done?" he demanded, his voice sharp.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

"It's stuck," I explained hurriedly. "We've tried everything to get it off. Don't worry, Nolan found some video online with a trick that hopefully will work."

Mitch's eyes narrowed. "Is this some kind of trick?"

"No! Look, see for yourself," I insisted, tugging at the ring futilely.

He grabbed my hand and examined the ring. I could see him noting the red marks on my finger from our earlier attempts. Just as I thought the crisis was averted, Mitch did something before I could stop him. In one swift motion, he brought my hand to his mouth, caught the edge of the ring between his teeth, and pulled.

To my shock, the ring slid off, dropping into his waiting palm.

"Voilà," he said, a hint of triumph in his voice.

I stared at my bare finger, astonished. "I can't believe it. We tried everything." I held out my hand for the ring. "Thank you."

Mitch didn't move to return it.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Give it back."

His eyes narrowed. "If you and Nolan really broke up, why do you need it back so desperately?"

I tried to keep my voice steady. "It's not about needing it. It's not my property and I need to return it."

He tightened his fist around it, his jaw set. "Something doesn't add up here, Zena. You're looking a little nervous. What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing—give me the ring," I repeated, my heart racing as I realized how quickly this situation was spiraling out of control.

"No," he retorted. "I don't trust you. I'm holding onto it until you send me confirmation that your wedding was canceled."

Before I could do anything, Mitch was in the Ferrari, peeling out of the parking lot, with Belle waving goodbye.

I spun around and sprinted back to the BMW, my heart pounding against my chest. Nolan and Bonnie were watching me, sensing something was wrong.

"Mitch took off with the ring!" I shouted as I approached. "We need to stop him!"

Nolan's eyes widened. Without a word, he jumped into the driver's seat, and started the engine before I reached the car. Bonnie and I barely had time to get in and close the door before he peeled out of the parking lot, tires screeching.

"Which way did they go?" Nolan asked.

"Toward the highway," I replied.

We wove through traffic, and I could see the yellow Ferrari in the distance, getting smaller by the second.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Bonnie asked from the backseat, her voice strained.

"I'm trying!" Nolan gritted out, narrowly avoiding a minivan as we merged onto Interstate 40. He pressed harder on the accelerator. The BMW surged forward.

"Be careful!" I shouted, my heart in my throat. "We need that ring back, but I'd rather not die while trying!"

Even with my white knuckles gripping the dashboard, hope fluttered in my chest as the gap between us and the Ferrari seemed to shrink. As if Mitch had suddenly remembered he was driving a supercar, everything changed. The Ferrari's engine let out a thunderous roar that we could hear even over our own motor. In a heartbeat, the distance between us doubled.

And just like that, it disappeared on the horizon.

Along with my hope.

That was when I heard the siren blaring behind us.

"Oh no, not again," I groaned.

Nolan cursed under his breath, pulling over to the shoulder.

To our surprise, the State Trooper blazed past us.

"Are they going after Mitch?" I asked, bewildered.

Nolan watched as another highway patrol car flew by us. "I hope not, but we obviously can't continue."

He pulled back onto the highway, then took the next exit and stopped in the Wendy's parking lot, killing the engine with a sigh.

"What now?" I asked, my mind racing for solutions, but coming up blank.

"Bonnie, please call Belle," Nolan said. "Find out where they are and if they're okay."

She did as instructed, but the call went straight to voicemail. She left a message, then kept trying repeatedly. We waited for what seemed like an eternity, tension thick in the air, until finally, Belle returned the call.

"There you are!" Bonnie answered, putting it on speakerphone. "Where are you? We have been worried sick!"

Belle's low voice crackled through the phone, her earlier enthusiasm completely vanished. "We're at the police station. Mitch was arrested."

I exchanged horrified glances with Nolan.

This day had just gone from bad to worse.