Page 6 of Risking the Pucking Defense

I stand there for a few more seconds, but when he doesn’t say anything else, I take a step backward and then another.

He doesn’t speak again until I have my fingers wrapped around the door handle, ready to pull it open and slip out.

“Hailee.” I squeeze my eyes closed, hating how palpable his pain is. “Thank you.”

“We’ve all got your back, Hayden. Lean on us. We’ll help keep you standing.”

I leave those words hanging in the air, knowing damn well they’re true.

I might not be his friend. I’m the woman who bosses him around and keeps him on the straight and narrow. Hayden makes my job easy compared to the others, and I may secretly have a bit of a sweet spot for him, but I take my position very seriously, and I keep the line drawn between the players and me at all times.

And anyway, he doesn’t need me. He needs the guys downstairs. They’re his people. His family.

I’m…I’m just the PR Director who might know a thing or two about what he’s going through.

I roll my shoulders back and hold my head high as I walk to the elevator and press the number for my floor.

Before I can show my face back downstairs again, I need to fix my makeup.

Crying wasn’t on my bingo card today, and I refuse to face anyone until all evidence has been banished.

I give myself an hour. I figure that the wedding party will be busy having their photos done, and everyone else probably won’t have even noticed that I’ve disappeared.

By the time I walk out of my hotel room again, my eyes are no longer red-rimmed, my eyeliner is on point, and my lips are fire-engine red once more.

As I descend through the building, unwanted butterflies begin fluttering inside me.

I never feel like this at work. I know my job, my place, and I don’t deviate from it.

But here, at an event I’m not managing, or have any part of while with the majority of the LA Vipers organization, I can’t help but feel on edge.

They’ve all built tight bonds over the years. The coaching staff, the medical staff, and, of course, the team. The marketing department is no different. They’ve done their best to drag me into the fold. Invited me out for team lunches, days out, and birthday drinks, but as their manager, I’ve declined every time.

The only non-work event I’ve attended recently was Parker and Linc’s engagement party, and I only agreed to that because Parker pulled out the puppy dog eyes.

I roll my eyes as I picture her begging me to agree, to be there to celebrate with them.

I’m not sure why she made such a big deal out of it. But her insistence finally led to my caving and agreeing.

It was a good night. But I can’t say I felt at home surrounded by everyone. I know it’s my own fault. I’m the one who’s built her walls so high that no one can scale them. It’s just…it’s safer this way. If no one gets close, then no one can walk away.

I get up in the morning, work out, go to work, kick ass at my job, and then I go home to sleep. That’s all I need in my life right now.

Soft music plays as I walk toward the bar, in desperate need of a drink. There are people littered everywhere, sitting on tall barstools at tables, on couches, and at the bar, but no one pays me any attention.

Or at least, I think that’s the case, because no sooner have I ordered a glass of prosecco than someone calls my name.

“There you are. Where did you disappear to?” Freya says as she approaches, Cole trailing behind her with a beer in hand.

“Oh, uh, my cell rang. I had to get it.”

“You can have a day off, you know,” Cole mutters.

“And leave who to put out all the fires you guys create?”

“We’re all in one room,” he says, looking around. “Well, kinda. How much trouble can we cause today?”

I raise a brow. “You’ve met your teammates, right?”