Page 52 of Puck Fest
My hands clench at my sides. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just that you’re spending a lot of one-on-one time with him. Media training, community service supervision, crisis management. Very hands-on approach for a Communications Director.” He pauses. “I’ve never known PR directors to be such hand-holders.”
“I’m doing my job.”
“I’m sure you are.” Alex glances back at the ice, where Masterson’s helping a kid with his stance. “He seems like the kind of guy who’d inspire that kind of...dedication. Hell, he’s probably grateful for someone who has his back.”
“You need to leave. Now.”
“Relax, Noah. I’m just making conversation.” Alex pulls out his phone and types something. My blood boils and I want to tear it out of his hands and hurl it at the wall. “But I should get going anyway. There’s a lot to prep before Friday’s game. Good seeing you.”
He walks away, and I’m left standing there, heart pounding, watching him disappear down the corridor.
He knows. Or he suspects. Either way, he’s watching.
I turn back to the ice. Masterson’s still working with the kids, completely unaware that Alex was here. Completely unaware that someone’s digging into his life, looking for an angle, trying to find something worth writing about.
And if Alex digs deep enough, if he watches closely enough, he’ll see what I’ve been trying so hard to hide…that I care about Masterson more than I should and that there’s something between us that goes way beyond professional obligation.
I pick up my clipboard with shaking hands and try to focus on taking notes.
But all I can think about is Alex standing in that doorway, watching Masterson, commenting on how “interesting” he is. The way he said it…shit, it was like he was testing me. Like he was trying to see how I’d react.
And I reacted exactly the way someone would react if they were trying to hide something.
When the clinic ends and the last kid leaves, Masterson skates over to the boards.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Fine.”
“You look tense.”
“I’m fine.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Noah, why don’t you just tell me the truth?”
“Fine.” I grit my teeth. “Alex was here watching the clinic.”
Masterson’s expression shifts. “What?”
“He said he was doing background research. Getting a feel for players in their natural environments before the game he’s supposed to be covering on Friday.”
“Sounds like a bunch of crap to me.”
“I agree.”
“So, what’d you tell him?”
“To leave. That he had no business being here.” My shoulders slump slightly. “But he’s watching, Danny. He’s looking for something, and if he finds it?—”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“We keep our distance. We stay professional. We make sure there’s nothing for him to find.”
