Page 129 of Behind the Net

“Yes,” I say quietly.

He steps into the small space. “What’s going on?”

His voice is so caring, so concerned, that I just break.

“Zach emailed me,” I tell him, showing him the phone. Anger and resentment tear through me, and I blow a frustrated breath out. “He texted me the day you got back from traveling but I blocked him.” My heart pounds as Jamie glares at the phone, reading the message. “I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t know why he’s messaging me.” I shake my head hard. “I don’t want this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I blocked him. I thought he’d go away.” I suck in a deep breath, trying to shove all this Zach-related anger away, but it doesn’t work. “It was the day before I recorded with Ivy. I just wanted to forget him and focus.”

He sighs. “Yeah. I understand that.” He turns his full attention to me. “You can tell me about this stuff. We can figure it out together.”

I look up at him, and his eyes search mine with worry. “I know.” I grab my phone, open my email, and block his email address. “There,” I tell Jamie with a firm nod. “We’ll have to keep the windows closed in case he tries carrier pigeon next.”

A sharp laugh scrapes out of his throat, and he drops a quick kiss onto my cheek before we go settle up with Miranda. Neither of them will tell me how much the dress costs, and Miranda and I set a time for me to pick the dress up after the alterations are finished.

As Jamie and I thank her and say goodbye, she leans in. “Undergarments will be included with the dress.” She winks conspiratorially, and I give her a funny smile. Miranda’s lovely, but I’m not sure if I want her to buy me underwear.

After lunch, we head home so Jamie can nap before the game, and I text with Hazel about the event in Whistler. As part of the team, she’s going, too.

Uh. We have a problem, she texts me.I just saw the guest list.

???, I respond. Last I checked, they were still finalizing it.

Forwarded you the email.They’re still trying to sell the last tables. Table 16 is going to be an issue.

My email pings. That familiar nausea rises when I see who’s sitting at Table 16.

Zach Hanson.

CHAPTER62

JAMIE

That evening,the arena’s energy is tense. The players, the coaches, the fans—everyone’s on edge, including me.

Hetextedher. The memory of Pippa’s face this morning replays in my head, and my blood pounds with fury. Pippa ismine, and he has the fucking audacity to reach out to her.

Before the game, she reluctantly showed me the list of attendees. He’s going to be at the gala, and I know it’s because of her.

You don’t have to go, I told her. My attendance is mandatory, but hers isn’t.

Instead of cowering, her nostrils flared, she tilted her chin up, and determination flashed in her eyes.I’m going, she said.I’m not going to let him scare me away.

My fucking heart. Pippa has it in the palm of her hand.

On the ice, the other goalie catches the puck and the whistle blows. My shoulders tense as I watch Miller and Volkov exchange heated words.

I don’t know what Calgary’s coach is playing at, but our team has been taking nasty hits all night. The refs don’t seem to notice, which only fires up the fans and our team even more. Miller’s back to his usual cocky, fight-provoking self.

The bad energy hangs in the air like a mist. There’s going to be a fight, I can feel it.

One of Calgary’s defensemen crosschecks our third line forward long after he passes the puck.

Still no whistle.

Volkov yells something at the other team’s player, and the tension bubbles into a boil. Miller skates between them, grinning like a sly cat, but there’s no humor on his face. He’s different tonight. Colder. Unhappy. Pissed off.

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