“Why is he bugging you now?”
Bailey inhaled and held her breath for a beat. “Because he’s mad that I wouldn’t talk to him last night.”
My blood pressure shot through the roof, skyrocketing off into the atmosphere.
“What?”
I wasn’t paranoid; I was right. I knew it. That fucking stalker.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” she said. “He wanted to talk, I said no, we had words. Then I called him an asshole, and he left.”
Had words? Sure sounded like a big deal to me. I balled my hands into fists while I clamped down on the sour irritation brewing in my gut. I was only annoyed because I cared. Picking a fight wouldn’t accomplish anything positive.
And yet. Dammit, James.
“But you didn’t call me.”
She scrunched up her mouth, which was cute enough to lessen my frustration. “You were still on the ice.”
“You said you would either way.” I raised my eyebrows.
“I would have if I needed to.”
In my opinion, this incident fell firmly under the “needed to” category. Clearly, I wasn’t the only stubborn one in this relationship.
I shook my head, my lips drawn in a thin line. “James.”
Her phone vibrated again.
Easing down onto the foot of her bed, I nodded at it. “Mind if I see?”
I liked to keep tabs on what Morrison was saying and doing because he pinged my crazy radar—which, generally speaking, was pretty spot on. Taking the temperature of how he was behaving at any given time was important. Just in case.
Was this that worrying thing Ward was talking about last night? Whatever. It was necessary. Justified too.
Bailey shrugged. “Sure.” She stood and came to sit beside me, handing me her phone. But her expression was off—almost like there was something she didn’t want me to see. Weird.
The latest one said: Answer me.
My grip on the phone tightened. Oh, I’ll fucking answer you.
I scrolled back to his previous string of messages.
Luke: It’s rude to ignore texts, Bailey.
I scrolled again.
Luke: I could have taken care of you. And your family. Now your parents have to sell their house. They’re going to lose everything because of you.
The blood in my veins turned to hot molten lava. What a piece of shit. The fucking nerve of this guy. I was too angry to read any more. Strong chance I’d break her phone if I did.
With a death grip on the device, I glanced up at her. “Can I please write this motherfucker back?”
“If you want to.”
You bet I wanted to.
Bailey: Hey asshole. It’s Carter. Text this number again, and I’ll fuck up a lot more than your knee.
I hit send and locked her phone, handing it back to her. I doubted it would deter the creep anyway. Changing her number would probably be a whole lot more effective than blocking him.
With that said, there was a more urgent issue at hand.
“Not trying to pry,” I said carefully, “but is it true that your parents are selling their house?” Or losing their house, from the sounds of it, but I was trying to be delicate. It wasn’t my strong suit, so I was trying really, really hard.
“Yeah, they are.”
“Morrison knew that, and I didn’t?” I asked, putting my arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. Her hair smelled like something tropical, maybe coconut and pineapple.
Bailey looked down, placing her palms on her dark jeans and refusing to meet my eyes. “Derek must have told him.”
“Circling back to the me not knowing part,” I said gently. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Probably why she looked at me funny when she gave me the phone. She didn’t want me to know. But why?
“I don’t know.” She peered up at me, snagging her pink bottom lip between her teeth. “I found out the other day. My dad got laid off recently, and they can’t afford to keep it.”
My stomach sank. Well, fuck. I guess that was why.
“I’m sorry, James.”
Bailey gave a little one-shoulder shrug that was anything but convincing. “It’s not a big deal.”
But it clearly was. I could tell from the way she talked about home that the house mattered to her. It was where she’d grown up. She said her mom had this crazy huge garden in the backyard; they did Christmas there every year; all of her and her brothers’ heights were marked on the kitchen doorframe, all of those sentimental things.
“Where will they live?”
“They’re downsizing somewhere nearby,” Bailey said. “They don’t need as much space now that we’re all grown, anyway. It probably makes sense.”
Maybe, but making that choice and having it made for them were two different things.
“The market is terrible where they live, though, so the house isn’t selling,” she added.
And it kept getting worse.
“Will they be okay if the house doesn’t sell for a while?”
“I think so,” she said. “My brothers can help them out if they need money. I’m sure my dad will find another teaching position soon too.”
I nodded. “Right.”
For better or worse, Bailey wasn’t a good liar. The way she nibbled at her lip and kept her head ducked told me things wouldn’t be okay. And she wasn’t giving me the full story, either, not with how Morrison’s text was worded. Money was a touchy thing with her, though, so I didn’t want to pry.
I needed to mull this one over a little. There was something to it, I just didn’t know what.
We fell quiet for a moment. The room was nearly empty, save for a few boxes and bare furniture, but the air was heavy.
I nudged her with my elbow, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you excited about moving?”
“Yeah. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
If I were her, I would be wearing a shiny party hat and giving both Amelia and Jillian a gigantic “fuck you” on the way out.
“Well,” Bailey hesitated, “I guess there’s a small part of me that wonders if I’m letting my life revolve around yet another hockey player. You know, with the whole you-Dallas-Shiv connection. Feels a little…puck-bunny-ish.”
Ouch. I had skin as thick as hockey equipment, but that one still stung.
“You think you’re a puck bunny?” I gave her a pointed look until she made eye contact, trying to get a read on where this was coming from. “And I’m just another hockey player? We aren’t cardboard cut-outs. We’re real people.”
And if, god forbid, things ended between us, I’d never be a crazy asshole like Morrison and make her living situation difficult. But I couldn’t bring myself to think about that scenario in any greater detail. Wasn’t going to happen, anyway.
Bailey took my hand, her skin cool and soft against mine. “Don’t you think I’m a bit of a stereotype, though? I went from one hockey player straight to another.”
“It’s not like you went after me because I play hockey. I pursued you. In my own slightly misguided way.”
A small smile peeked out on her lips. “Still…”
“Would you still like me if I quit the team tomorrow?”
Her hazel eyes widened, and her tone hushed. “Of course.”
“Then you’re not a puck bunny. Problem solved.” I studied her. “Where’s this coming from?”
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and shrugged, making a little “I dunno” sound.
“Did someone call you a puck bunny?”
“Paul may have. That one day.”
A trail of expletives exploded in my brain.
My hit list had officially grown to two people.
We were due to play Callingwood again in a few weeks, and my entire team would be ready to clobber both of those dipshits. Repeatedly.
“Don’t let him get in your head. It’s exactly what he wants.”
“But it’s not wrong. First I was Luke Morrison’s girlfriend, and now I’m Chase Carter’s girlfriend.”
Ouch again. But now I knew where this was coming from.