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Chapter Twenty-Two

GRACE

My phone buzzes, but I ignore it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s tried to call or text me. Rolling over, I tuck myself deeper into my bed covers and sniffle. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to cry real tears, but the urge is still there and the pressure behind my eyes is almost unbearable.

It’s been two days since I saw Camille and Jensen together outside his apartment and I’m not ready to face him yet. I can’t believe I was so stupid and let my guard down with him. After everything I’ve seen happen to my friends over the years, I should’ve known he was playing me the whole time. That’s what guys like him do. Women are just conquests. Prizes to be won and thrown aside when the thrill of the chase wears off.

What am I going to do? I’ve told Carson I’m taking a few days off, but eventually I’m going to have to go back to work. Not just for him, but for all my clients. Then what? I wonder if I should just quit my job altogether. It’d be the easiest thing for me to do, but to my surprise… I really don’t want to. I like working for Carson and I’m good at what I do. Sitting up, I clench my hands into fists and let out a huff in frustration. Am I really considering leaving a good job because of a guy?

Christ, when did I become this girl? The kind of girl who hides in bed and shifts her whole life around just to avoid a man. This isn’t who I am. This isn’t who I want to be. Determination burns through me, pushing away the worst of my sadness.

Tomorrow night, the Night Hawks have a home game, and I’m going to go and do my job and pretend like Jensen isn’t even there. He doesn’t deserve my heartache and tears. I’m going to get my shit together and move past this. Jensen isn’t going to have any more of an impact on my life.

I’m not going to give him that power over me.

Being back at the stadium the next day is a little surreal. As I make my way toward the rink, my head is on a swivel. I’m nervous to run into Jensen. Carson told me they got into a fight yesterday, which will only make things more awkward between us. I’m not going to let my anxiety get the better of me, though. I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it, damn it.

Lifting my chin, I turn a corner to head into the press box, but I come to an immediate stop when I see a familiar figure standing in my path.

“C…Camille?” I stammer.

I’d been so worried about running into Jensen, I hadn’t even considered that seeing her today would be a possibility. It’s especially surprising given that this area is off limits to the general public. She turns to face me, her blonde hair swishing around her shoulders. She’s dressed as immaculately as ever in a pale pink dress and silver stilettos. It’s a strange outfit for a hockey game, but I honestly can’t picture her in anything more casual. She holds herself with such ease and confidence, I feel instantly frumpy and inadequate in comparison. My simple but stylish gray slacks, black heels, and black silk blouse all seem drab compared to her glamor.

“Oh!” she says, her gaze lighting up with recognition. “I know you. Grace, right? You were hanging out at the rink during that practice the other week taking pictures or something.”

I furrow my brow in confusion.

“Um, yeah,” I nod as I cautiously move toward her. “What are you doing up here? This area is for press and media only.”

She flips her hair over her shoulder, her eyes flashing with frustration.

“I was hoping to run into Jensen’s publicist,” she says. “Jensen’s father gave me his information and I need to talk to him about how ridiculous Jensen is being.”

“Ridiculous? How?”

Why am I talking to her? I should just keep moving and pretend I don’t know anything about her and Jensen. It’s really none of my business in the end, is it?

She releases a short breath and rolls her eyes. “He’s being so shortsighted. He keeps rejecting me, even though we’re perfect for each other. I went to his place the other night to try and talk some sense into him but he just went on and on about some girl he’s hung up on. I figure, though, if I can convince his publicist how good it would be for Jensen’s public image to have me on his arm, he might have a better chance of getting Jensen to think reasonably.”

My heart seems to stop as I stare at her. I ignore the last part of her explanation and zero in on the bit of information that’s left my stomach fluttering.

“A…a girl?” I murmur. “What girl?”

Camille shrugs and waves her hand dismissively.

“Who cares?” she replies. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no way she can measure up to me, so I don’t know why he would choose her instead of me.”

Three things become very obvious to me at that moment. The first is that Camille is hugely narcissistic, the second is that she doesn’t know I’m the girl Jensen has been with, and the third is that Jensen rejected her.

For me?

“This has been such a waste of time,” Camille declares, yanking me out of my wandering thoughts. “I tried to talk to him the other day at his place, then I intercepted him at the locker room yesterday, but he threatened to call the police if I didn’t get away from him. Can you believe that? Ungrateful bastard. Well, it’s his loss. There are plenty of men out there who would trip over themselves to be with me.”

I open my mouth, though I don’t know what I’m going to say to her. She doesn’t give me a chance to respond, though, before her eyes go wide as if with realization.

“Hey! If you get access to the press box, you must know Jensen’s publicist, right? Do you happen to know where Jensen’s publicist is?”

I arch a brow and shake my head. “Uh… no, I don’t. Keeping track of his publicist isn’t really my job.”

Camille frowns and then lets out an annoyed huff of breath as she rolls her eyes.

“Well, thanks for nothing,” she snaps, flipping her hair again.

Apparently, our conversation is over, because she turns without another word and storms away. I guess she’s not interested in waiting for Jensen’s publicist anymore. I’m so stunned, I just stare after her for a long moment. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. If what she said was all true, then Jensen was never with her.

In a haze, I make my way into the press box and get my equipment set up. The stadium is filling up with eager fans, but their rambunctious excitement only makes me feel overwhelmed. The game starts, but I can hardly focus on anything that’s happening on the ice. I can’t keep my eyes off of Jensen and Camille’s words keep running through my head on repeat. I’m so confused and I don’t know what to think anymore. Everything feels like it’s been flipped upside down. I was so angry. I was so certain that all my cynical thoughts and worries had been right. Now, though, I’m not sure what to think. I need time to process what Camille has just told me and the assumptions I’d made and so easily believed about Jensen. At length the noise of the crowd and the game becomes too much and I just feel the need to get away and find somewhere quiet where I can actually think straight.

Slipping away from the press box, I make my way to a nearby bathroom and lock myself in one of the stalls. The pressure lifts from my head and I’m able to focus a bit better.

That’s when it hits me. Shit, did I ruin everything? Did I let my assumptions and prejudices get in the way of my logic? I didn’t even stop for a moment to consider other possibilities when I saw Jensen with Camille and immediately decided they were together. Now, looking back at everything that’s happened between Jensen and me, I feel awful that I didn’t give him the chance to explain what was actually happening.

Chest tight and anxiety rising, I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Skyler.

“Hello,” she says in a singsong voice. “What’s new, beau?”

“Skyler, I think I messed up,” I say without preamble. “I think I messed up bad.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

I quickly tell her about my interaction with Camille and what the woman had told me.

“I ruined it,” I whimper, clutching my phone tighter and shaking my head. “I ruined it, Sky. I had a good guy and I jumped to conclusions. Why would Jensen give me a second chance when I didn’t give him one?”

Skyler releases a long breath and gently says, “Sweetie, you need to talk to Jensen. You need to explain everything to him. Most of all, you have to stop lumping people into groups and making assumptions about them. It’s only getting in the way of your own happiness.”

Her words are firm but fair. I know she’s right. If I hadn’t been so insistent in my belief that all hockey players were womanizing jerks, I would have given Jensen a chance to explain. I wouldn’t have run away and hidden from him.

“I’ll talk to him,” I murmur. “I’ll make this right.”

“That’s my girl,” Skyler declares, sounding proud. “Go get your man!”

I release a shaky breath and hang up the call. I take a few more minutes to gather my courage before I finally leave the bathroom. As I’m making my way back to the press box, I hear the final buzzer and roar of the crowd and pause. The game’s already over? I’ve been so preoccupied I lost track of time. I change direction and head for the locker rooms instead. I need to talk to Jensen as soon as possible, and if that means walking into a room full of sweaty hockey players to catch him, so be it.

The crowd is starting to make its way out of the stadium and I have to fight against the current a little bit as I make my way to the locker rooms. I slip down a hallway free of fans and hurry along, but as I draw near the players’ area, I hear angry voices bouncing off the cement brick walls. When I turn the corner at the end of the hallway, I spot Jensen in a heated conversation with an older man I don’t recognize.

“I’m a grown-ass man, Dad!” I hear Jensen snarl. “I know exactly what I want. It’s not your career or Camille. I have my own career, and a woman I’m madly in love with…”

I gasp and Jensen looks up and spots me. His eyes go wide.

“Grace?”

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