Page 17 of Shot Through the Heart

ChapterSeven

STELLA

Greyson’s doorslams shut behind him and for a brief moment, I’m surrounded by complete silence in the truck. From the corner of my eye, I can see Grey running a hand through his hair before scrubbing it down his face as he finally moves to open the back door. While he gathers his gear bag from the back seat, I take one final glance in the mirror. After double-checking that my bout of hysterical laughter didn’t cause my eyes to water and ruin my eyeliner, I snap the visor closed.

With a steadying breath, my fingers find the red release button of my seat belt. Just as it snaps back into its slot and I reach for the handle, my door opens. My heart skips, finding Greyson standing tall and confident before me with his hand extended to help me out of his truck. Opening my door was something he’s done hundreds of times before, even when I used to protest that I was more than capable of doing it myself. He’d just smile and tell me it’s not because I can’t do it, but it’s simply the bare minimum he can do to show me he’s there.

But that was when we were young and in love. The gesture being done now catches me off guard.

“You didn’t have?—”

“There are photographers at the parking lot’s entrance,” Greyson interrupts in a low grumble. Glancing over his shoulder, I immediately spot the small group, gathered right where he said.

Right. This is why I’m here.

Yet, for some reason, the fact that he’s being so attentive for the camera and not simply because it’s what he wants to do makes my stomach drop with disappointment.

Instead of letting my true emotions show, I flash Grey with a sweet smile and slip my hand into his, allowing him to help me out of the truck. He doesn’t back off as I step onto the pavement and the smell of his cologne invades my senses. Tilting my head back, I peer up into his glimmering chestnut eyes and suddenly I’m nineteen again. Staring into the hopeful gaze of a young man who looks at me as if I hung all the stars in the sky.

And with a blink I’m thrust back to the present, standing intimately close to the man who left me broken and alone.

Clearing my throat, I drop his warm hand and turn to grab my little clutch from the truck, then step aside for him to close the door.

“Ready?” I ask, not looking up as I put all my attention into straightening the strap of my bag.

He makes a sound of agreement and starts heading toward the building, keeping a pace that allows me to catch up to his side. The moment I’m there, his hand moves to my lower back, gently guiding me in the direction of the team entrance where reporters wait to catch a picture. I spot Landon and Dean approaching from the opposite direction, now accompanied by a stunning woman. Even from across the parking lot, I can hear her squeal of delight as she takes off toward another hockey player and hugs the woman beside him.

It isn’t until we’re almost to them that something important finally dawns on me. I slow my steps, making the weight of Grey’s palm press more firmly into my back.

“Greyson.” I stop, open my clutch, and thumb through the few contents as if I’m searching for something.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, angling his body to block me from the waiting photographers and onlookers.

“We never went over our story.”

“That’s because it’s no one else’s business,” Grey says gruffly.

With my head still down, I don’t bother trying to hide my eye roll.

“A response like that will make it look like we’re trying to hide something. Are you?” I glance up at him, fighting the urge to ask him why he even needs to pay someone to be here, but bite my tongue. That would only muddy the waters more. I’m not looking to make things personal.

“No,” Greyson huffs out after a few beats. Glancing over his shoulder, he sighs heavily before turning back to me. “Let’s just go with what you told Landon and Dean earlier.”

“And if someone asks how long we’ve known each other? Who reached out to who? You realize I’m about to spend almost three hours in a box full of partners and family who will undoubtedly fish for more information. If I say one thing, but you tell someone else another, someone’s going to connect the dots.”

He grumbles something under his breath and for a second, I truly believe he’s going to just tell me to figure it out on my own. The problem with that would be if someone asks him something later and our stories don’t match, things could start to unravel. The last thing either of us needs is for it to come out that he hired me. The whole point of my role here is discretion.

“Fine, just…I don’t know, say we’re old friends and we’re reconnecting.”

I nod in agreement. “Okay, how’s this? We were high school friends, I’m new to the city, and we got in touch. You’re showing me around since I don’t have any family here. If people ask if we’re more than friends, I’ll coyly change the subject and let them assume what they want.” Pulling my wallet out, I hold it up and smile like I finally found what I was looking for. “Now we’re good to go.”

We approach the growing crowd, meeting up with his teammates and their guests as some of them stop to pose for pictures with random fans in front of the mural on the side of the building.

Greyson stays by my side as we stop beside a vaguely familiar blonde woman and the redhead I saw greet her a few minutes ago. As Landon, Dean, and a player I recognize from Garrett pointing him out as his best friend Dominik snap a few more selfies with people, I lean in and whisper to Grey.

“Don’t worry about me. You can go jump in there too.”

Greyson shakes his head, his expression pinched in a failed attempt to hide his displeasure at the suggestion. “I don’t do that.”

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