Dirty Talker (Slayers Hockey #4) - Mira Lyn Kelly Page 0,62

something she’s worked so hard for, makes me sick. She told me her father wouldn’t approve. We talked about waiting to meet him. Letting her settle into her job first. Having a chance to prove herself. Christ.

And then her tyrant father finds out about her relationship from the news, and his first introduction to the guy she’s dating is a damn mugshot.

This is all my fault.

“Wade, I quit because I finally had to accept some hard truths about my father and the impact I’ve been allowing—no, inviting him to have on my life.”

“Harlow. I’m so sorry.”

Her hand comes up to my face. “I’m not. The things he said to me today… I always thought he didn’t see me. That he didn’t realize who he had right there in front of his face. But he did. He knew exactly how hard I’d been trying to get his attention… and he just didn’t want to give it to me.” She sniffs, sucking a quick breath. “I finally realized his attention isn’t worth having.”

“But the bank.” I know how she felt about that place.

Another shake of her head. “Before I met you, it felt like the bank was my whole life. I was afraid to lose it, but I don’t think it was because I loved it. It was all I had. It was the one thing that connected me to my father, and without it… I thought I would have had nothing.”

Christ, it kills me to think about how alone she’s been and for how long.

“The thing is, I’m the reason my world was so small. I was so focused on this singular unattainable goal, I shut out everything else, telling myself I didn’t have time, I didn’t have room, I didn’t need a life. And then I met you. And you showed me what I was missing. And I want it. I want a life. I want love. And most of all, I want you.”

I brush a bit of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “You have me. Harlow, I love you.”

She blinks as more tears fill her eyes, only this time her beautiful smile accompanies them. “I love you too.”

“Let’s go inside. We can talk and—”

“Someone’s seriously blowing up your phone.”

She’s right. It hasn’t stopped going off since I hung up on Pete. “My agent. He wants me to come in, try to get ahead of this thing. But I—I need to know you’re okay. We’re okay.”

Her brows shoot up and she wipes at her cheeks with the back of her wrist. “Wade, is this about your contract?”

And the endorsement. “Probably. Yes.”

“Wade! Get on your phone and order a Lyft. You need to get over there.”

Harlow

Wade doesn’t want to leave me, so I go along to the meeting. They set me up in a comfortable conference room that feels more like a living room with its pro-athlete-sized leather couch and enormous coffee table. I set up the prepaid phone I bought at 7-Eleven with a list of numbers Wade wrote down for me. It’s not a forever phone, but it’s enough for me to call Grace.

She answers on the first ring. “I’ve been calling and calling. What’s happening?”

“He’s okay. He’s been in meetings with his agent and they’ve got the lawyers involved. But mostly they’re working on damage control with the Slayers.”

I can hear Bill shouting at someone in the background, issuing threats I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of.

And then from closer, Kelsey. “Is it Wade? Tell him I can come to Chicago and help. Stay as long as he needs. Anything.”

I try not to bristle. We have bigger problems. So I ask, “Grace, I don’t know how long it will be before Wade can talk, but does anyone have an idea how this got out?”

So far, the answer is no. But the Gradys’ family and friends are making calls, checking to see if anyone’s seen or heard anything.

Within an hour, the lawyers are getting results from their end. The news and gossip sites begin updating their stories, posting apologies, and removing the mugshot that never should have been taken, let alone released.

Wade comes to check on me between meetings and calls.

He’s exhausted, but it’s me he keeps worrying about, pulling me onto his lap and holding me quietly before going back for more. It pays off, and the Slayers contract comes through. Pete thinks the endorsement will too, but eventually he sends us home for the night.

It’s not the celebration we’d planned,