Page 107 of Shutout
I squeeze my jaw. “Liv, that’s no bueno. Take my plate, I’ll go get your purse.”
“It’s okay. The caterer just said?—”
“But just in case. Let’s?—”
“Tatum!” We both suck in air as Coach Green heads over, two men in tow. I don’t know who they are but I recognize the expensive cut in their suits. These are either boosters—St. Cloud alumni with pockets deep enough that they get buildings named after them—or sponsors from some wealthy organization.
I almost forgot this is actually what we came here for.
Shifting my plate to my left hand, I offer my right to Coach for a handshake. “Coach, great to see you.”
“Right back at you, son. Thank you for dropping by when we know you must be busy with the move.” He frees his hand to point at the other two. “These are my friends Lenny Farrow and Maurice Beaumont.”
I squint. The names ring a bell, even if the faces don’t.
“They’re my good friends from when we played in the NHL a decade ago,” Coach finishes saying, giving me a look that clearly saysplay nice or else.
Oh. This is a third category I hadn’t considered.
“And you’re Bryce Tatum’s kid, right?” One of them shakes his head. “We played against him back when. Real pain in the ass.”
Yeah, I guess that’s where I got it from. It’s also why their names were familiar. Either Dad must’ve mentioned them, or I simply heard them when I used to watch his games growing up. But like most of my childhood, I put any knowledge of them in a vault in my mind.
I wonder if Coach’s a bit tipsy because he says, “Brooklyn here isn’t justtheBryce Tatum’s kid. He’s the Bolts player who has been called up to the pros the earliest, that’s how good he is.”
Mr. Beaumont whistles. “Now, that’s a feat not even your father achieved.”
I hope they can’t see the heat creeping up my face. “I, well—” A tug behind me makes me turn. Liv’s looking at me funny. “Oh, where are my manners. This is Olivia Rodriguez, my girlfriend.” I push her gently by the small of her back.
“Lovely to meet an even lovelier young lady,” Mr. Farrow says.
Liv shakes his hand but her attention stays on me as she clears her throat. And again.
Every fiber of my being focuses on her.
She’s working her mouth, running her tongue against her palate. Like it’s itchy. And she’s not saying a single damn thing.
Sucking air, I push my plate onto Beaumont’s hands because he’s closest, before taking Liv’s plate and dumping it on top of mine. “Sorry, sorry. I think my girlfriend’s having an allergic reaction.” I hold her face. There’s no swelling yet but she’s paler than before. Not even the makeup can hide that. “How bad is it from one to ten?”
“Two,” she wheezes out. “But changing fast.”
“Shit.”
I don’t care if we’re making a scene. I bend down to pick her up in my arms. She grabs tight onto my neck. I don’t even have time to apologize again before I’m bolting out of the event hall.
CHAPTER 36
OLIVIA
“I’m sorry,” I rasp weakly.
“Shut up.” Brooklyn grits out the words not unkindly. His eyes are wide and forehead wrinkled, the same sheer panic that has taken over him every time I’ve had an allergic reaction. “I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve—Key?” He all but shouts at the valet outside.
The poor guy takes one look at me and immediately guesses that something’s wrong. Maybe my face is swelling up already.
Only one thing can make me sick so quickly. Peanuts.
But the caterer didn’t mention peanuts anywhere.
