Page 26 of Ice Cold Heart

“Avery, thank you for helping with distribution, but for the future, I’d advise you to choose more responsible footwear.”

Yep, I disliked this man intensely. How did he even know what boots I’d been wearing yesterday? I’d met a couple of the other staff writers, and they’d all seemed nice, if somewhat distant. The only sign of Seb we’d seen had been the schedule he’d made for deliveries.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Do you have any feedback on the articles I sent you?”

He checked his phone, and his eyes briefly flicked over my shoulder toward the stairs. “I do, but I have a different assignment for you. I understand you’re Coach Dalton’s daughter?”

A tight ball of foreboding sank into my stomach. “Yes.”

“I want you focusing on the sports teams at TU, primarily football and men’s hockey, though the women’s volleyball team has garnered some attention lately too. We’re a D1 school, and we’ve been lacking in our sports coverage.”

I struggled to keep my face neutral, but Seb wasn’t really looking at me anyway. “I’d prefer not to write about the sports teams.”

He let out a dry laugh. “I’d prefer to have a reliable staff, but we don’t always get what we want. If you intend to write for the TU Post, you’ll do as you’re assigned.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go fuck himself, but despite the small staff, the TU Post was well known among internships. Getting a regular byline would look fantastic on my resume. I didn’t have to write exclusively about the hockey team.

As if he could sense me trying to find loopholes, Seb focused on my face again. “There’s not much happening with the football team right now, so I want you at every home hockey game. Get what you can about the players, the staff, anything that might prove interesting during the break for your weekly articles. Even better if it’s something salacious. That’s your assignment until I tell you otherwise.”

I ground my teeth together and nodded. Seb’s request for something salacious made me question if the TU Post was right for me, but Jonah didn’t seem like the tabloid type, and while Marco appeared to love a juicy story, he didn’t strike me as paparazzi. I didn’t need sensational drama to write a good article.

At least I wouldn’t need to do a bunch of research. Until my parents divorced when I was eight, I was obsessed with hockey. Dad played in the NHL, and I couldn’t get enough of watching him zoom across the ice.

Hockey lost a lot of its appeal when Dad didn’t even fight for custody—too busy with his career to take care of a kid by himself.

Seb hummed absently and returned to his office without any further orders. No wonder Marco hated him. I wondered how Dad would react to knowing I was his new sports reporter. Nothing in my memory gave any indication one way or the other how he felt about the media. Most likely, he’d take the news with the same apathetic attitude he took everything else.

With my assignment set, I sank down at Greta’s desk and pulled out my laptop. I didn’t even know the hockey schedule other than they had a couple of weeks off, which was why Cole was frontloading his lit work.

A laugh bubbled up from my chest. Cole would love this turn of events. Actually, maybe I could start with Cole. He was the wholesome good guy on the team, readers would eat him up. I wouldn’t mention his issues, obviously, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out more about him. Do an official interview.

The rough outline of a series of articles took shape in my mind, and I added notes on my computer until my phone buzzed beside me, pulling me out of the zone. My muscles tensed, and I forced them to relax. It was probably Cole, somehow sensing I was thinking about him. The chances of it being Scott, again, had to be in the single digits.

Obviously, he hadn’t been silent since I’d walked out of my mom’s house, but after the day I met Cole in the library, the quantity of texts from Scott had increased. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was watching me.

Shoving the creepy thought away, I checked the message.

Unknown number: Lunch?

I squinted down at my phone, then looked around the room. No one else had snuck in while I was busy, and I highly doubted Seb was extending an invitation. Movement at the corner of my vision made me glance toward the bonus office, where Marco stood at the window holding up his phone with a grin.

Mystery solved.

Me: How’d you get my number?

Marco: Jonah keeps a list in his office.

Me: Good to know.

I made a mental note to have a talk with Jonah about privacy laws.

Me: Why are you texting me from the other room?

Marco: So Seb the asshole can’t hear me.

Me: I thought you wanted to annoy him with your noise.

Marco: Not this noise. He’s not invited.

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