Behind the Net: Chapter 66

OUTSIDE THE BALLROOM, Jamie’s hand slips into mine, and his serious, watchful gaze searches my face.

My heart is pounding. In the elevator, he didn’t want to mess up my makeup, so he kissed a soft, torturous line down my neck as I watched our reflection in the mirror, breathless. Part of me wanted to stay in that elevator forever so I didn’t have to face Zach. Part of me couldn’t believe the gorgeous, towering guy in a tux was mine. And part of me roared with anger and resentment for Zach pushing his way back into my life like this after what he did.

Jamie’s thumb strokes against my hand. We’re about to encounter the person who hurt me, and his protective instincts are flaring, just like at the wrap party. Except this time, it’s worse, because Zach stole my song and made it his.

I drag a deep breath in, looking up at him, counting every dark eyelash rimming his green eyes. His eyes tell me everything—Jamie won’t let anyone hurt me tonight.

I remember Jamie’s words outside the wrap party about getting back on the ice, and how every time I was scared to do something bold, I shocked myself with my bravery.

“I know you’ll never let anything happen to me,” I whisper to Jamie. An energized, strong, stubborn feeling fills my chest, and I stand a little straighter. “And I won’t, either.”

I can stand up for myself now. Jamie helped me develop that skill, and now it’s flourishing.

“We’re going to pretend he isn’t there,” I tell Jamie. His jaw tightens, and I smile at him. “I got all dressed up for you, and I’m not going to let him ruin this.”

His face looks like he wants to argue, but his expression softens. “Okay.”

“Come here, handsome.” When he leans down, I press a kiss to his cheek before leading him inside.

“Wowza, Hartley,” Hayden says as soon as we enter. He’s in a tux like Jamie, wearing his own black eye. “Babe alert.”

I laugh, and Jamie growls.

“Careful, Owens,” he tells Hayden, but Hayden just grins and slaps him on the shoulder.

Other hockey players find us, and we’re surrounded. I feel like a baby elephant in the circle of giant adults, peering around them in short glances, on the lookout for Zach. I’ve never seen so many beautiful people in one place. The ballroom is packed with hockey players in tuxes, and I spot familiar faces from the Vancouver and Calgary teams, most of them wearing evidence of last night’s fight. I recognize a few celebrities, actors and musicians. My heart stops at a woman with long, platinum blond hair, but she turns and I let the breath out. It isn’t Layla. It’s a woman from a reality show.

Hazel finds me, and I light up at her magenta gown. “You look lovely.”

She gestures at me, eyes bugging out of her head. “You look great.”

I nudge Jamie at my side. “Someone hired hair and makeup to get me all pretty for tonight.”

He glances down at me, the corner of his mouth curling up before he nods. “Hazel.”

“Jamie.” She glances between us. Jamie’s hand is on my lower back, reassuring but possessive, and she smiles to herself as she looks at him with approval. “Nice work, Streicher. I’m still going to beat the crap out of you in physio, though.”

He nods. “I figured.”

They smile at each other like they’re friends, and my heart flips over.

“Good,” she chirps before looking at me, expression sobering. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

I lean in and lower my voice. “Which one is Table 16?”

She indicates a table across the room. “We’re on the other side of the room, thank fuck.” She shakes her head, nostrils flaring. “When I see that guy, I’m going to fucking destroy him.”

“Get in line,” Jamie tells her, eyes flashing.

“No one is going to destroy anyone,” I tell them, and I’m smiling because I love both of these people. “We’re not going to make a scene, because we’ll look like assholes.” I straighten up and lift my chin. “We’re going to ignore him.”

“But—” Hazel starts.

“Ignoring.” I nod and smile at her.

Her eyes narrow, and after a long moment, she relents. “Let’s get some booze.”

Minutes later, Hazel, Jamie, and I are at our table, chatting with players and sipping champagne, when Rory approaches.

Purple bruising surrounds his left eye, and there’s a red scrape across his jaw. Even with his wounds from last night, he cleans up nicely in his tux and fresh haircut.

“Hey, Pips.” He wraps me in a big hug. “You look so much better when you aren’t wearing that ugly Vancouver jersey.”

A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. I spare a glance up at Jamie, and he rolls his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches, though.

Rory pulls back and nods at Jamie. “Streicher.” He tucks his hands in his pockets, studying the damage he did on Jamie’s face. “Nice shiner.”

Jamie tips his chin back at him. “Likewise.”

A beat passes, and I wait for the familiar tension that runs between them, but it doesn’t show up.

Jamie clears his throat. “We go to Hazel’s hot yoga classes on Sundays,” he tells Rory. Hazel’s just out of earshot, talking with Alexei. “It might help you get in better shape.”

Rory laughs. “You fucking asshole.”

Jamie almost smiles at that. I glance between them, fascinated. Men are so weird.

“Hartley?” Rory raises his voice, gaze straying to Hazel. His mouth tips into a teasing grin, but there’s more to his expression. Sincerity, like he wants to make sure she wants him there. “That okay with you, if I join yoga?”

She studies him before shrugging with a cool expression, like she doesn’t care. “Whatever.”

In one hand, she holds a drink, but the other is at her side, her pointer finger rubbing the pad of her thumb in quick circles. Her nervous tell.

She likes him. Excitement flutters in my stomach. Hazel never likes guys, preferring to use them and cast them aside.

Rory’s eyes are soft as he watches her. His expression is a lot like how Jamie looks at me.

“You look beautiful,” Rory says to her in front of everyone, and there isn’t a lick of teasing in his tone.

She blinks, taken aback by this side of him. “Thanks.” She’s flushing and can barely meet his gaze, and I hide my smile by turning to look at Jamie.

He shoots me a quick wink. He sees it, too.

The emcee asks guests to take their seats, and dinner begins. Over at Table 16, there’s an empty seat. Zach hasn’t arrived.

My hands twist in my lap. Maybe he bailed.

There are speeches, a presentation about the charity’s work this year, and a video of players and other celebrities at the local children’s hospital. At one point, Jamie appears on screen, sitting on a tiny chair, letting a little girl put a tiara on him, and it’s so freaking cute that my heart hurts.

His hand comes to my lap as we listen to the last of the speeches, and he gives me that quiet, private smile.

My heart flutters, and I know I have to tell him how I feel. Soon. When the time is right.

When the speeches are over, the real party starts. Music plays, and drinks flow. I eat all the desserts Jamie keeps bringing me, and Hayden makes me and Hazel laugh so hard we can’t breathe. Zach’s seat at his table remains empty, and I relax more. I glance over at Jamie, and he’s talking with Coach Ward, who looks too handsome in his tux to ever have been a hockey player. Jamie’s at ease, surrounded by all these guys who clearly admire him, and I feel a rush of gratitude that he has them.

I finish the last of my champagne and catch Jamie’s eye, motioning to him that I’m going to use the ladies’ room. When I step out of the washroom moments later, Jamie’s leaning on a nearby table, waiting patiently.

“You didn’t have to accompany me,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “You were looking a little wobbly there, songbird.”

I giggle. “I’m not drunk. I’m just feeling a little silly tonight.” Zach didn’t show, and I feel like a weight has lifted. My head buzzes pleasantly, but I’m not drunk.

“You can be both. I don’t care.” He reaches up and brushes my hair off my shoulder. Amusement glitters in his eyes. “I’ll hold your hair back while you barf.”

My chest shakes with laughter. I love this silly side of him. “I’m not going to barf.” I loop my hand around his arm, feeling floaty and happy. Zach didn’t show up, and this gala has been so fun. I feel beautiful and special.

Just outside the doors leading into the ballroom, someone steps in our path, and my pulse flatlines. In an instant, the floaty, happy feelings evaporate, leaving me hollow.

Zach.

I can’t breathe. Beside me, Jamie stiffens.

“Pippa,” Zach says. His eyes move over me in wonder, like he sees me in a new light.

The new Pippa. Instead of sneakers and jeans, I’m wearing an expensive dress, with my hair in glamorous waves, with a professional hockey player hovering over me. Zach looks at me like my value has gone up.

Anger flickers in my stomach, because none of this matters. The dress doesn’t matter, the hair and makeup don’t matter. It doesn’t even matter that Jamie’s a professional athlete, because he’s so much more than that.

I’m so much more than all of this. Jamie cared about me long before tonight. I remember the way he looked at me after I played that song for him in his living room in the middle of the night. That’s what matters to Jamie. The real stuff. Not all of this artifice.

“Can I talk to you?” Zach spares Jamie a glance, lip curling. “Alone?”

“No,” Jamie and I say in unison.

My hand slips into his, and he gives me a reassuring squeeze. I give him one right back.

“Okay.” Irritation flashes across Zach’s face, and the familiarity of it makes me feel sick.

In my head, I scramble for the calm, cool game plan I laid out hours ago. Ignore Zach. He doesn’t matter. Don’t make a scene.

Rage drums in my blood, and my molars grit. This guy made me feel like I wasn’t enough. He broke my heart, and then he invited me to that stupid wrap party so he could shove it in my face. Have you met Layla? He took something I created, laughed at me, and then made it his.

“All that stuff with Layla,” Zach starts, shaking his head. “It’s not working out. I made a mistake.” He shifts on his feet. “She’s not you.”

Something splinters through my rage. She’s not me—is that because she stood up to him? Did she want to be treated as an equal, instead of some groupie muse solely for his use?

I thought this moment would be sweeter than it is. I thought I’d feel vindicated, but instead, I’m sad for Layla.

I’m also really fucking angry.

My eyes narrow as I study him, watching him get more and more uncomfortable. He expected me to wilt and fold for him, no doubt.

I made a mistake, he said, but I wonder what he thinks the mistake was.

He’s not sorry for hurting me. He’s not sorry for what he did. He’s just sorry it didn’t work out the way he wanted.

“What’s going on?” Hazel’s standing ten feet away, gaze darting from Zach to me to Jamie.

“Pippa’s handling it,” Jamie tells her, and when I meet his eyes, I see that he believes it.

Jamie knows I can stick up for myself.

Hazel folds her arms over her chest and stands on my other side. She and Jamie are like two bodyguards, hovering.

“Let’s try it all again.” Zach’s words rush out, tinged in frantic desperation. “It’ll be different.” His throat works again, and he clings to my gaze.

Shit, he must really be in trouble. I do the mental math. The tour is over and his record label is likely planning the next one. And in the meantime, he’ll be recording a new album.

Oh. There it is. He doesn’t have someone to feed him ideas without wanting credit.

Too bad I’m not that girl anymore. That rage from before echoes through me.

“You took my song.” My voice is confident, and I channel Jamie’s glare. “I heard it. The song I played for you? You made it yours.”

Zach rears back, bemused. “What, that? That wasn’t a song, Pippa. That was a mess, and we cleaned it up.”

The anger pours back into my blood, and I blink at him.

He waves me off. “Artists take from each other all the time. Nothing in art is original.”

He says it in such a condescending way, like I have no idea how the music industry works. My heart pounds, and I’ve never been so pissed. All the hurt from the past few months swirls in me like a whirlpool, gathering energy. I feel like I’m about to breathe fire and torch this whole hotel.

Hazel makes a furious noise in her throat. “Finish him,” she says under her breath, like in the video games we used to play as teenagers.

Something strong courses through me, and I let it free.

“You don’t want the best for me,” I tell Zach, a wry smile twisting onto my mouth. “You want the best for you. You always have.”

He blinks, stunned.

“We were never equals.” Even though my hands are shaking, my shoulders slide back, and that flame in my chest flickers brighter, hotter. “And we still aren’t, are we? You think you’re doing me a favor.”

He blanches before scoffing, and he’s never looked uglier than when he’s looking down at me like this, like I’m nothing. “I am doing you a favor.” He snorts, and it hurts. “What are you doing now? Nothing in music.”

“She recorded a demo with Ivy Matthews,” Jamie cuts in with a sharp tone.

His words hit their mark, because Zach looks stunned all over again. Ivy is his white whale, and I got her. Even if nothing comes of my demo with her, she chose me and not him.

I give Zach a sad smile. I don’t want to be mad at him anymore, because while this anger energizes me, it’s going to leave me drained. I just want to be rid of him, to move on to a better life.

“Goodbye, Zach.” I look up at Jamie and see the pride in his eyes. “Let’s go,” I tell him and Hazel, and Jamie’s arm comes around my shoulders.

I don’t look back as we walk away.