Page 35 of In Too Deep

Dee releases a skeptical noise. “They’re great employees, don’t get me wrong. But they don’t... get it like you do,” he says as his eyes grow distant.

“Get... what?” I ask slowly, not sure I really want to know the answer.

“The game. The sport. The stakes. Take your pick. Rach and Tony do great work, but they’d do just as well working for any of the other big names in town. But you understand hockey, and you know how to make other people love it. You wake up and eat, drink, breathe hockey. I don’t know if you’ve ever taken your eye off the puck once.” He laughs at his own joke.

My mind floats back to Christmas, when I was able to relax and just enjoy time with the boys I care about. I certainly wasn’t thinking about hockey when I watched the three of them scrambling around the beach to find the prettiest shells and pebbles to place at my feet.

“Whatever you end up doing with this,” Dee goes on, motioning to the room around us before looking at me, “I’m excited to watch. From the comfort of my couch at home, that is.”

Dee lets out a booming laugh that could rival that of our play-by-play caller, Gene Robicheaux, and I manage a few chuckles around the lump in my throat. Letting out a contented sigh, he leans forward and picks up some of the stray catfish pieces that fell out of his po’ boy.

“But I talked enough for one break. You were trying to ask something before I went off on my tangent. What’s on your mind?”

I swallow hard and set the uneaten half of my po’ boy back on its paper on the table, brushing some crumbs from my lap, just to have a few more moments to gather my thoughts. Dee doesn't speak, but I can sense his eyes on me like lead weights.

“I’ve heard a rumor, and I wanted to run it by you, just to see what we’d do if it were true,” I start, finally looking up to lock eyes with my boss.

Dee’s brow furrows as he sits back in his chair and crosses his arms, nodding for me to continue. I clear my throat before taking the plunge.

“There’s talk about a few players being…involved with someone in the office staff,” I say, hoping like hell my face doesn’t give me away.

Dee hums thoughtfully. “I see. And has this talk given any indication of how long these people have been seeing each other?”

The question is flat, with very little emotion to go off of.

“A while, since the pre-season, if the rumors are to be believed.”

“That long, huh? Must be pretty serious.”

I pause before answering, trying to unpack the statement, but with little success. I can’t tell if he believes me, or if he’s just humoring me to see where I’ll go with this. But I’m already committed, so I nod.

“Yeah, pretty serious. But they’ve been doing their best to keep their personal relationships separate from their professional lives.” My fingers fiddle in my lap as I take in his unreadable expression.

Dee doesn’t respond right away, just studies me with those sharp, dark eyes. I can feel the sweat beading on my back, and I’m grateful I applied extra layers of scent blockers before I left the house. My pheromones have been all over the place since I changed my meds, and I’m almost positive they would have given me away a long time ago if I hadn’t taken precautions.

“Do we know if anything inappropriate has happened on the clock?” he asks at last.

I keep my face calm, even as my mind flashes back to my first kiss with Oliver, in the supply closet, when both of us were still definitely clocked in and getting paid. That could have easily escalated, but I’m eternally grateful now that I walked away when I did.

“There’s speculation about a kiss, but nothing more than that, at least from what I’ve heard.” The truth tastes a little bitter, but hey, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Dee nods, one corner of his mouth pinching as he considers. Should I just come out with the whole truth? My heart hammers against my ribs as the silence stretches between us. Surely by now he must have cottoned on to my flimsy cover story.

“Is that all?” he asks at last.

I nod, deciding to hedge my bets for the moment.

“So, who are you seeing, Tori?”

My eyes snap to his, spine straightening as the blood drains from my face. I fight back the urge to deny, clenching my shaking hands as I swallow again.

“Black, Jokinson, and Astrauckas,” I rasp.

This is the plan, I remind myself. Logan and I will keep our involvement to ourselves for the moment, at least until we can figure out if this is just a fling or something more serious. The boys and I will go through with forming a pack, and we can figure the rest out later, preferably after the season is over and we can take the time we need to get our affairs in order.

Dee’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead toward the top of his bald head, shock the primary emotion painting his features. But the longer he goes without speaking, the harder it is to stay still. The backs of my eyes burn, and I can feel moisture forming on the edges of my lids every time I blink.

“When I asked you about skeletons in your closet, you told me you didn’t have any,” Dee says, with not a whole lot of inflection for me to interpret.

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