Page 70 of Puck Daddies
“Copy.”
The courier arrives with two tamper-evident bags and a rolling case. She photographs the items where they sit, logs the time, our initials, and the description, then slips everything into bags and seals them, writing across the seams. “Logs will be in your inbox.”
The door shuts. The air shifts. Fitz is Oliver again in my head. Funny—on the ice, it’s Fitz. At home, Oliver.
When I sing I’m a singer. When I’m on the ice, I’m a player. Luke’s public face is charming and funny, a real go-getter. Behind closed doors, he’s a douchebag with too much money and privilege.
No one is just one thing, I guess.
Oliver ends the call and grabs his keys. “I’m going to Dana’s. I’ll update you when I can.” He takes the chain-of-custody copies and leaves.
I shower and stand there until the water runs lukewarm. Our building is good, so it takes a long time.
Oliver texts near midnight:Dana says there’s enough to start pressure. Not the finish line. It puts heat on the right necks. AG call tomorrow. Sleep.
Sleep sounds like the best idea ever.
24
OLIVER
Coach picksup on the second ring. “You good, Fitz?”
I’ve had knots in my stomach about this since we got the package. I knew what it meant. I’d be missing a game. Maybe more. Just depends on how all of this goes, and with a judge at the helm, there’s no telling. I might be out celebrating after this, or consoling Meg until she stops crying. No in-between when it comes to losing the last ties to her aunt. The timing could have been better, but we don’t always get to pick our timing.
I explain, “I can’t be at the game this afternoon. I have a legal matter to handle. It’s about Meg and the shop. I’m sorry I can’t be there.”
Silence for a beat. I know what he’s thinking. That I’m some whipped guy who’s at his girlfriend’s beck and call. Maybe he’s right about that. But I don’t care. Not today. Today she gets me. No one else.
He growls, “Is this going to blow back on us?”
“No, sir. Nothing illegal. I have to make an appearance. I’ll be available for the morning skate tomorrow.”
He exhales. “You missing a game is not nothing, Fitz.”
“I know. This is the right call. It’s what I have to do.”
Another breath. “You’ve banked goodwill. Don’t make a habit of using it up. I’ll tell PR. And Oliver?”
“Yeah.”
“Keep it clean.”
“Always.”
I pull out the suit I keep for being Oliver Fitzwilliam. It’s tucked behind my jerseys, jeans, and T-shirts. Dark, precise, stellar tailoring. The kind of suit that makes Mom happy. Shirt pressed. Tie simple. Shoes that whisper quiet luxury if you know how to hear them.
My family’s name and money opens doors. Today I use it for her.
The courthouse is busy. I easily pass through security, wave at some defense attorneys my parents know, and take the stairs because the elevator line is long. Outside the courtroom, I see Dana with a folder and a tablet. Meg sits beside her on a bench, hands tight around a paper cup. Across the hall, Luke and Callie sit with a lawyer I don’t know. Luke smirks at his phone. Callie whispers into his ear, her eyes on Meg.
I sit next to Meg. “Hey.”
She leans into my shoulder. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” I keep my arm there until she breathes deeper.
Dana stands and gives me a nod. “We’re on second. Temporary restraining order. Narrow. Contact, interference, notice. We tied the amended notice to the emails and the visits.”
