Page 5 of The Man in the Cottage

I stop at the edge of the yard, keeping some distance between us. "Morning."

"Morning." She takes a sip of her coffee. "You're up early."

"I run in the mornings." The lie comes out easy, automatic. I've told it so many times it almost feels true.

She nods slowly, like she's filing that information away somewhere. "I found a note from my grandmother last night. About you."

My stomach tightens. "Yeah?"

"She said to let you stay. Said you needed somewhere to be invisible for a while." She's watching my face now, looking for a reaction. "What does that mean?"

I should tell her. Right now, standing in the cold morning air with her grandmother's words hanging between us, I should just say it. I'm a hockey player. I'm suspended. I did something I can't take back and I've been hiding here ever since.

But the words stick in my throat.

"It means I needed somewhere quiet," I say instead. "And your grandmother was kind enough to give me that."

She holds my gaze for a long moment. I can't tell what she's thinking—her face is hard to read, guarded in a way that makes me wonder what she's protecting.

"Okay," she finally says. "I'm not going to push. But if you're going to stay here, I'd like to know who I'm living next to. Whenever you're ready to tell me."

It's not an ultimatum. It's an invitation. And somehow that's worse.

"I'll think about it," I say.

She nods and looks away, out toward the tree line. "There's coffee in the kitchen if you want some. Pot's still hot."

"Thanks."

I head into the cottage and close the door behind me, leaning against it for a second with my eyes closed. She's going to find out eventually. They always do. And then she'll look at me the way everyone else does—like I'm someone to be careful around, someone who might snap at any moment.

I should tell her myself before that happens. I should be the one to control the story.

But not today.

I push off from the door and head for the shower, stripping off my sweat-soaked clothes as I go. The hot water feels good, loosening the muscles I pushed too hard at the rink, washing away the tension that's been sitting in my shoulders since yesterday.

I'm toweling off when I hear my phone buzz on the kitchen counter.

My agent. Of course.

I almost let it go to voicemail like I always do, but something makes me pick up this time. Maybe it's Kelly's face in my head, the way she looked at me like she knew I was hiding something. Maybe it's just exhaustion wearing down my defenses.

"Travis." Dave's voice is too loud, too cheerful, the way it always is when he's about to deliver news he thinks I won't like. "Good, you're alive. I was starting to wonder."

"What do you want, Dave?"

"Straight to business. I respect that." He pauses, and I hear papers shuffling on his end. "So. I just got off the phone with the team. They want to talk."

My hand tightens on the phone. "Talk about what?"

"About your future. The suspension review is coming up next month. They're making decisions." Another pause. "They want you back for practice. Just practice, for now. See how it goes."

I don't say anything. I can't.

"Travis? You there?"

"Yeah." My voice sounds far away, even to me. "Yeah, I'm here."