77. Darcy

CHAPTER 77

DARCY

I wake the next morning with a spectacular view of Hayden sleeping, bare-chested, golden skin, and a soft, relaxed expression on his handsome face. He sleeps soundly, broad chest rising and falling and lips parted slightly. Through the giant bedroom windows, mountains soar out of the lake, and I'm filled with an overwhelming sense of peace. I'm careful not to wake him as I slip out of bed to make coffee in the hotel suite kitchen.

Everything is perfect—until I check my phone.

On the counter behind me, the hotel room's espresso maker whirs and drips as I stare at my phone screen, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I'm just wearing one of Hayden's t-shirts, my hair's a mess, and I'm barefoot, but my relaxed sleepiness clears like I've been dowsed in ice water.

I have so many notifications, I don't know where to start. My pulse skyrockets. A new group chat with Georgia, Hazel, Pippa, Jamie, Rory, Alexei. Hayden's in it, too, but obviously hasn't responded. Direct texts from Georgia, Hazel, Pippa, Alexei. Texts from my parents, a bunch of old coworkers, and the other analysts. Two missed calls from Georgia, one last night and one this morning. Another missed call from Alexei. A call from Ward.

We had our phones on do not disturb for the wedding, and when we got back to our room, checking them was the last thing on our minds.

Don't panic , Georgia texted last night. We're dealing with it .

Dealing with what ? I panic harder, pulse racing and stomach in knots. We're going to sort this out , Alexei messaged around midnight.

What the hell are they talking about? I scan through the group chat—they're all furious about an interview. They ask what room we're in. Kit's name appears and my eyes go wide, heart in my throat. I google Kit Driedger , and the first video is a press interview from yesterday, after Calgary's first playoff game.

Kit's face appears on the video with the Calgary team logo behind him.

"You and Vancouver Storm forward, Hayden Owens, are longtime friends," the interviewer says. "During last week's game against Vancouver, though, it seemed like you were targeting him. Fans are speculating that your behavior during that game is a result of Owens having his best season yet while your stats are lagging. Is there any truth to this rumor?"

Kit folds his arms over his chest, scowling. "No, there's no truth to it. I don't give a shit about him." He swallows hard. "And I bet it's a hell of a lot easier to have a good season when you're getting special treatment from the team's new data analyst, if you know what I mean." He raises his eyebrows, and his implication is clear.

There's a long pause of silence before all the reporters begin asking questions at once. I don't hear what they say after because of the blood pumping in my ears .

Something crumples in my chest.

In an instant, he cut down everything I do with the team, all my hard work and passion for my job. He slapped a big unprofessional sticker on me. Shame surges, coiling and sinking in my stomach, and my eyes sting.

How could I have been so wrong about someone?

"Darce?"

My head snaps up. Hayden strides toward me with a concerned frown, shirtless, just wearing his black boxers. I wish I could fully appreciate how adorable he is, all sleepy when he just wakes up, but instead, I'm reeling, spinning out, floundering.

Still speechless, I hand him my phone and hit play. His jaw grows tight as he watches the video, his muscles tense. "What the fuck?"

I stare at the screen in disbelief. "How could he do this?"

What did I do to deserve this? Is this really who I was with for eight years?

"Darce." Hayden sets the phone down and places his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him. "I'll deal with this."

I scan through the rest of the messages, and one sticks out. Call me , Ward texts.

I call him, but it goes straight to his voicemail. Hayden makes his own phone call while I stare out the window. I don't think Ward would fire me for this. I've done nothing wrong, but drawing this kind of attention to the team isn't good. I've met the owner once—a nice man in his sixties with a kind smile. While he seems like the kind of patient guy I can see Ward turning into one day, I doubt he's pleased with this, either.

My mind goes to four years ago, when I sat in my boss's office as he fired me for my mistake. I was so focused on not repeating the past that I didn't even see this coming. I was looking in the wrong direction the whole time .

The pain of taking someone down with me rings sharp and clear like it was yesterday. Hayden's proven himself as an incredible forward without my help, but now that the media has gotten ahold of our relationship, he'll never get full credit for the work he's put in.

"Yep, okay," Hayden says into the phone. "I'll be there in two hours." He says goodbye and hangs up before turning to me.

"I need to talk to Ward," I tell him.

"He's already in his office." Hayden rakes a hand through his hair. "He must have driven back last night to deal with this."

While everyone else was dealing with my mess, I was wrapped up in Hayden and our own little world.

"Let's leave." I swallow and glance around at the hotel suite. We planned to spend the day in bed and drive back tomorrow, but we can't hide anymore.

I know what I need to do. This time, I'm not taking anyone down with me.