Page 89 of Breakaway

“It’s fine. I know what I want to know. What’s the Society’s purpose?”

Pippa smiled; whether proud of my question or happy I hadn’t asked something else, I wasn’t sure.

“The Society started as a club for hockey players. It kept its mission simple—to improve the game, the player, and the team. Being part of the Society opened doors to athletes at the top of the game and gave them resources to be the best player they could be. Lots of backroom deals happened within the Society early on in the league, leading some programs to being the powerhouses they are today in Chicago, Vancouver, and Boston.”

She sighed and dropped her arms, letting out some of her hostility.

“While it was a good old-fashioned boys’ club, they had the foresight to see the errors of other clubs that became too power-hungry and grew beyond their means; ultimately bringing themselves to the attention of others and their demise. They elected women to be Arbitrators, in hopes of keeping the club pure, a neutral party so to speak, to be the deciding voice. In reality, they didn’t consider women threats and viewed them as sexual objects to desire.”

I blinked as I processed the information, taking in everything that hadn’t been said. It wasn’t at all what I’d expected. It almost sounded wholesome and like something I would’ve wanted to be part of, assuming women were seen as true athletes and not sex symbols to keep the men in line.

“So—”

“Nope, your turn. I told you far more than needed, and you know it.”

I gritted my teeth, but knew she was right. “Fine. Your sister died in childbirth.”

Pippa’s legs gave out, and she barely sank into the lone folding chair at the news. The bitch facade fell away as she digested the information I’d just callously thrown out. Shit. I felt like an asshole.

“How? I…” She shook her head, her eyes full of tears as she peered up at me. “I’ll tell you everything. Please, just tell me more.”

Fletcher caught my eyes, and I knew he was right. She wasn’t as gung ho about the Society as she pretended. I’d picked that up in her speech about what the club was started ‘as’ and not what it currently ‘was.’

“My father had an affair with your sister. I didn’t know. Not until recently.”

“Your father… so does that mean?” she asked, hope blooming in her eyes as she looked at me.

I shook my head, her face falling. “No. I’m not Matilda’s daughter. I was nine at the time. But…” I took a deep breath. “Her child didn’t die. Reese is Matilda’s child.”

“Reese,” she breathed as more tears fell. “I have a…” she stopped, looking up at me.

“You have a piece of your sister,” I said when the right word didn’t come to me. I didn’t know if there was a non-gendered word for niece or nephew.

“Does Reese know?”

I shook my head, then stopped myself. “They know Carol isn’t their biological mother, but not that the woman who’s been harassing me is their aunt. I gave Reese the choice to find their biological family if they wanted, and so far, they haven’t.”

“I understand.” She nodded slowly. “But maybe, someday?”

I nodded. “Yeah, someday is possible.”

She smiled, her entire face changing. This wasn’t a woman who wanted to destroy me, but someone who had just discovered a piece of their sibling they thought they’d lost. Pippa had hope on her face, and that emotion made me want to trust her.

“Now, tell me everything about the Society and how to stop them, starting with your role.”

Pippa wiped her eyes and nodded. “Okay, here’s what you need to know.”

By the time she’d finished, the team plane had been long gone, and our new one waited for us on the tarmac. My mind felt like a blender on high with no lid; everything had exploded everywhere, sticking to surfaces and leaving me an overwhelmed mess with little direction on where to start cleaning up. I had a whole new understanding of the enemies in my life, and Pippa Rivers was not one of them.

* * *

“How are you doing?” Fletcher asked, nudging me with his foot.

The plane he’d rented was smaller, with more intimate seating, and even had a bedroom. Currently, I was relaxing back in Dax’s arms on the couch with my feet in Reed’s lap. Fletcher was across from us in a swivel chair. He had emails to go through for HTC, so he had taken one for the team and sat by himself so he could work on his computer.

I glanced over at him, noticing the computer was shut on the table next to him. He’d changed into a pair of comfortable pants and a soft tee, and leaned back in the chair, his legs spread wide. His hands rested on top of his thighs, giving off a calm and collected vibe. He raised an eyebrow when I didn’t answer right away.

“I think my brain has given up. Every time I start to think about it, it’s like it reboots itself.”

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