Chapter 3 Marina

Marina By the time I got home, my heart was pounding so hard I was half-convinced it might give out. Eden. Blaire. Dane. Their faces kept flashing through my mind in an endless, brutal loop. I shoved through the front door, kicked it shut, and headed straight for the kitchen. I needed a drink. I switched on the light. "Fuck!" I jumped so hard my heart nearly stopped. Grant sat at the kitchen island, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. "Fuck, Grant! You scared me." I pressed a hand to my chest. "Language, young lady," he warned. I rolled my eyes. "I'm a freaking twenty-three-year-old grown ass woman," and he still treated me like I was four. "Apparently not," he said. "Not if you're still coming home looking like you've been chased by a ghost." I said nothing. Grant had stepped into the role of taking care of me after our parents died in a car accident. When every other relative seemed to disappear, he stayed. He had been nineteen, barely an adult himself. Yet somehow, he had become both my brother and my parent. Now he's a successful architect with his own firm. "Where have you been?" he asked. Here we go again. "Eden called about thirty minutes ago," he added. "He wanted to know if you'd gotten home." Of course he had. That's the kind of nonsense Eden does. He made me feel like he cared. And now, just hearing his name made something bitter twist inside me. "I had to go back to the rink." I dumped my bag on the counter and reached for a glass. My emotions were too raw to give Grant a sane answer-one that wouldn't make me say something I'd regret. He stayed quiet. But I could feel his eyes following me. I grabbed the glass and headed for my room. Grant had built a life from the ashes of ours. I just wished he would stop trying to build mine for me. I collapsed on my bed, but I didn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Eden and Blaire. Then a picture of Dane holding me close, his hand rubbing slow circles over my back while I cried over a man who felt nothing for me. That memory stayed with me. It tugged at something deep inside my chest, something I didn't have words for. By six in the morning, I gave up. My laptop was still open on the bed. My championship article stared back at me. I had a job to do. Hockey didn't care that my life had fallen apart. By eight-thirty, I was walking through the arena entrance again, my press badge hanging around my neck, a coffee I didn't want in one hand and a headache I definitely didn't deserve pounding behind my eyes. Maya was waiting in the media workroom with two coffees. "You look like shit." "Good morning to you too." "I assume it didn't go well last night." I rolled my eyes as she handed me a cup. "I already have one." "That isn't coffee. That's sadness in liquid form." A small smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. "You're annoying." "I know, babe. And you've been stuck with me for how many years?" I shook my head. "Too many." She grinned as we entered the media room. I knew she was waiting for the story. I hesitated, but I told her all of it. I trust Maya. She had been there through every high and every miserable low. When I finished, she stared at me. "You know what? That's his loss." I frowned. "I wonder why you were even obsessed with him in the first place. You're gorgeous, you're building a career, and you should see the way people stare whenever you walk past." I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. "I think you're the only person who can't see yourself," she continued. "You're practically perfect for any man." We had been friends since college. She knows exactly how to get under my defenses. "I'm not obsessed with him." It was the only thing I could say. Maya stood and pulled me into a hug. "I know you'll find your man. Trust me." She squeezed me once before letting go. "Now get your ass back to work before your editor starts demanding an explanation for why our star journalist is crying over a man who doesn't deserve her." She grabbed her clipboard. "I need to sort out the ticketing for today's event." Then she walked out. By ten, I was getting ready to interview the players. First was Derek, the goaltender. He wore sunglasses indoors and looked like he hadn't slept since the championship started. Then Shane, he spent half the interview describing the championship-winning play as though he had personally invented hockey. For the first time all morning, I felt almost normal. I listened, took notes and asked questions. Then the media-room door opened, everything inside me stopped. Dane walked in. Black trousers, with a fitted charcoal shirt, the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. His dark hair was still slightly damp, and he looked composed, controlled, untouchable. Unlike everyone else, he didn't look as though he had celebrated too hard. Or maybe he had but simply mastered the art of hiding it. I swallowed. My mind flashed back to last night. The warmth of his chest, his arms around me. His hand moved slowly across my back while I cried. My heart betrayed me with one hard, stupid beat. Dane smirked. I immediately looked away before he caught me staring. "Good morning." His voice was low. "Good morning." "What time did you file the story?" The question broke the silence. I blinked. "At six twenty-three this morning." "That's dedication." I gestured toward the chair. "Sit." He did, then he looked up at me. "Did you sleep?" Of all the questions he could have asked. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from reacting. "Yes." It's a lie. I hadn't slept for even a minute. I would have looked like a walking zombie if he had noticed. "About last night-" "You're here for an interview." I picked up my pen. "Let's get started." Something flickered across his face, then it disappeared behind a familiar smirk. It did something strange to my chest. "I know last night was about a boy," he said quietly. "But whoever broke your heart has to be the biggest fool alive." My fingers curled around the pen. The image of Eden and Blaire slammed back into my mind. My chest tightened. "I..." The door opened. "Hey, babe." Blaire walked in. My stomach dropped. She slid her arms around Dane and pressed herself against him. I stared at them, Blaire looked at me and smiled before resting her head against his shoulder. "Hey, Marina. I didn't see you at the after-party." She kissed his cheek. My nails dug into my palm beneath the table. Blaire turned Dane's face toward hers and kissed him softly. He kissed her back. I lowered my gaze to my laptop. The words on the screen blurred. I could feel Dane's eyes on me. I didn't understand why seeing them together hurt in two completely different ways. Blaire pulled away, her smile remained perfectly composed. But her eyes told a different story. She wasn't afraid that I knew her secret. She was afraid I might discover just how many secrets she was hiding.