69. Luke

Chapter 69

Luke

I tossmy phone to the other end of the couch and watch it bounce off the cushion and land on Jackson’s floor.

You know how to get a hold of me.

“I think that’s enough for the night.” Coach stands and stretches his back.

We’ve been watching game tapes, but really, it’s just been him and Jackson watching and discussing. I haven’t heard a word.

It’s been over a week since the shit show in Natalie’s office.

Natalie Wagner of Wag Corp. A woman whose individual worth is estimated at over one hundred million dollars.

Just thinking about her makes me angry.

The whole fucking situation makes me angry.

And what makes me the angriest is that I don’t even know who I’m angriest at.

Her for not spelling out who exactly she was? Or me for never even thinking about looking her up?

Her for practically blackmailing me into playing along? Or me for feeling so damn hurt about it?

Her for being mature and reaching out to me like this can be fixed with a simple conversation? Or me for not wanting to face her when all I really want to do is see her?

We had some away games in the days after I stormed out of Natalie’s office, but since we got back, I’ve been crashing at Jackson’s.

Natalie doesn’t have my address, or at least I haven’t given it to her, but I’m sure someone with her means could find it. And I couldn’t take the chance of her showing up, so I’ve been hiding out here.

Like a fucking coward.

Which makes me even angrier.

I snag my phone off the floor as Jackson and I get up and follow Coach toward the door.

My steps are heavier than they need to be, but I can’t help it.

I’m not an angry dude. I don’t like feeling this way.

Coach gives Katelyn, Jackson’s wife, a hug goodbye before turning back to us. “I’ll see you boys at practice tomorrow.”

“Night, Coach,” Jackson tells the older man.

“Night,” Coach replies before moving his attention to me. “You’ve been playing well.”

I dip my chin. “Thanks.”

“But…” I knew there was a fucking but. “You’re gonna get burned out playing on emotion. Fix the shit between you and your heiress.”

“My—” Did he seriously just use the name from the title of that video?

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Luke.” Coach pats my shoulder. “But I know the story. And that you’ve been avoiding her.”

“Great,” I deadpan.

Coach smiles, not put out by my attitude. “You’re a smart kid. I trust you’ll find a way to make it work. But quit putting it off.”

Then he turns and leaves.

Jackson shuts the door behind him, then faces me. “He’s right, you know. You’ve been avoiding this long enough.”

My mouth flattens into a line. “It’s barely been a week.” It’s been over a week. “And he wouldn’t know anything if he wasn’t sleeping with your mom, hearing her repeat everything you say during their pillow talk.”

Katelyn snickers.

Jackson pulls his shoulders back. “Have fun sleeping at home tonight.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. If you stay any longer, I’m gonna have to tell my mom, and then she’ll have to tell Coach.”

“You’re right. We can’t have that!” I throw my hands up and stomp away from my best friend to collect my things from the guest room.

I knew bringing his mom up was a mistake, but I couldn’t help myself. Jackson’s mama started dating Coach after Jackson and Katelyn got married. We’re all used to it by now, but throwing it in Jackson’s face that way wasn’t the best decision. But clearly I don’t make good decisions when I’m upset.

According to the world, Natalie and I are madly in love. The unlikely but wildly popular pairing of the business mogul’s daughter and the professional hockey player.

And Natalie is right. I did talk about our relationship in a postgame interview. Because I was asked, and there really wasn’t a choice but to go along with the story. Because she was right in the office too. Coach wouldn’t bench me for a drunken, accidental wedding, but my sponsors might have cut their contracts with me.

It wouldn’t be the end of the world if they did. I’ve been smart with my money. I could retire after this season and be fine. But I don’t really want to end my career like that. I want the sponsor money, and I want to end my career on my own terms.

And doesn’t that just make me the biggest fucking hypocrite in the world?

I stuff my scattered clothes into my duffel bag and zip it up.

I’ll go home and gather my thoughts.

Then I’ll figure out what to say to Natalie.