Page 35 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

Her vision blurred.

“I’m leaving,” she whispered, the confession barely making it past her lips. The silence on the other end of the line was thick, stretched tight like a wire about to snap. Then?—

“What did I do?” Matthieu’s voice was raw, open, almost desperate.

She heard the unmistakable chime of his car, then the low rumble of the engine coming to life.

“Don’t leave me without saying goodbye or giving me a chance to make things better. I’m on my way, and I’m warning you now—I didn’t shower after the game. I was so scared that something was wrong when you left…”

Her breath hitched. “Somethingiswrong.”

“Baby, tell me what is going on… please,” he urged, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t make me wonder because I can think of twenty million screw-ups I’ve done to ruin this and?—”

A strangled, broken laugh escaped her lips.

He called her ‘Baby’?

“It’s not you,” she finally admitted, her voice cracking. “Never you. My father knows we aren’t married, and he called.”

A beat of silence.

“So?”

“So, you don’t know him,” she rushed, her words stumbling over each other in panic. “You don’t know how vindictive he can be when he doesn’t get his way. That guy that was following me in Seattle? He hired him.”

“What!?”

Matthieu’s outrage hit her like a gust of wind, strong and unwavering. The sheer force of his reaction steadied her, reassured her that she wasn’t overreacting, that the weight pressing down on her wasn’t imagined.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.” Her lips trembled as she popped the ‘p’ at the end of the word. “I wish I were, but no. He hired the guy to follow me, which is why he lived in the building and was coming to my work.”

Matthieu sucked in a sharp breath. “Did you tell him about the grabbing, the filthy things he said to you…?”

Jeannie let out a hollow laugh, but there was no humor in it. “He said I was overreacting.”

The words hung in the air like a slap, and then?—

Matthieu cursed viciously, a raw, furious sound that sent a shiver down her spine. His anger wasn’t directed at her—she knew that—but it was fierce, protective, and laced with the kind of fury that made her feel seen and validated.

“That was almost as intense as my reaction,” she murmured, a weak attempt at levity. “You know, you sure are making me feel better—almost justified in how I feel right now.”

“Baby, there is nothing wrong with you in the slightest.” His voice softened, but the anger still simmered beneath it. “That’s pretty sick and twisted—to have your own parents hire someone to follow you, to stalk you, and then take their word over their child’s.”

A shudder racked her frame.

“I thought so too,” she whispered, sinking onto the edge of her bed. Her hands fisted in the fabric of her jeans. “It is messed up, isn’t it? It’s not me. I’m not wrong for wanting to distance myself from that… am I?”

Matthieu inhaled sharply.

“Don’t cry.” His voice was thick, rough with emotion. “Baby, please—no crying, because it just rips my guts out… and everything is already pretty sore after the game. I’m right around the corner from the house. Don’t do anything.”

Jeannie squeezed her eyes shut.

“I’ve got a ticket to fly out on the next red-eye. I’ve got to?—”

“Cancel it.” Matthieu’s tone was sharp, brooking no argument.

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