The Heart Chaser by Gina Azzi
Luca
“Ican’t get through,” I holler, throwing my phone down. It skitters across the table before dropping to the floor. I let out a swear and turn, my fingers lacing behind my head, as I try to calm down. “How the fuck am I supposed to calm down?”
“We’re going to fix this, Panda,” my agent, Callie, says calmly.
I spin around and narrow my eyes at her. Her tone implies that I’m throwing some toddler temper tantrum when, “I have every right to be upset right now. That’s not my baby.” I point at the television where stupid gossip fodder is spinning a web of damaging lies. Not just damaging to me and my career, but damaging to my brother, my family, and most of all, to the woman I’m in love with.
Hell, I am so damn in love with Abbi. She’s not going to want me now. Not when I’m embroiled in a scandal while she’s battling one of her own.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and swear. Slipping into the chair across from Callie, I accept my phone from her hand and mutter a thank you. “What do we do?”
“Well, our first step is to shut this shitstorm down—” She flicks her wrist toward the television at large where images of me, looking like the playboy I was, flicker across the screen. “Then, we’ll work on proving you’re not the father. We’ll need to do a paternity test. We’re going to launch a serious PR campaign. We need to show you as a family man now more than ever.”
“My family stays out of this.”
Callie sighs but doesn’t push. “You want to make a deal with her?” She glances at the television, even though it’s now turned off. If I have to see Anastasia’s face one more time… “Girl’s looking for a pay day. It could be the fastest way to make this go away.”
“Not a chance in hell. I am not the father and I’m not going to pay some woman off to stop spreading lies. She’s lying.” I jab my finger at the black television screen.
Callie nods, her eyes snapping to mine. The familiar fire that has made her such an ass kicker in this industry, flares to life. Her ambitious, badass energy soothes me and I know she’s going to straighten this out for me. I lean back in my chair, my fingers tapping on the table. “I don’t care about all this.” I gesture around. “I just want Abbi. And now, she’s not speaking to me.”
Callie’s expression softens. “You really care about her, huh?”
I snort, scrubbing my face again. God, I’m tired. Drained really. But I have a game tonight, my first game back, and I need to snap out of this unproductive headspace and show up ready to play. “I love her,” I tell Callie, staring right at her.
She rears back slightly, surprise widening her eyes. But after a moment she smiles and for the first time since I’ve met her, she looks pretty. I mean, to most men, Callie James is a smoke show, but around here, she’s more of a barracuda, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of her. “Good for you, Panda. Really.”
“Cal, she won’t speak to me,” I state slowly, reminding her of the problem.
Callie rolls her eyes. “She will. Give her time. This lifestyle is overwhelming if you’re not used to it. It’s a lot up front and she’s dealing with her own stuff. She could be overloaded, trying to process.”
“I thought that’s the messed-up shit guys do.”
Callie laughs and stands from her chair. “Maybe I’m giving you bad advice. I’ve always been accused of thinking too much like a man. Too rational, not feeling enough.”
I shake my head. “No way. That’s what makes you a boss at your job.”
She shoots me a grateful smile. “Maybe. But it also makes me single in my forties.”
I scoff, disliking that Callie is letting me see a chink in her armor. Not because she trusts me with a personal piece of herself, but because there shouldn’t be a damn chink. Not when it comes to her dating life. A woman like Callie deserves the world and I tell her so.
“Ahh”—she shakes her head—“behind that reputation, you really are too good, Pandatelli.”
“Yeah, well don’t go spreading that around.” I point to the conference room door.
Callie chuckles. “I’ll keep it close to the vest. I’m going to get started on the Anastasia issue. You track down your girl and focus on your game tonight.” She points at me, all stern and serious again. “Don’t let this drama affect your play. It’s your first game back on the ice and several of your endorsements are shaky. Don’t give the sponsors a reason to pull them. I know there’s a lot going on, but you still need to do your job. You’ve gotta show up the way we all know you’re capable of. Got it?”
I slap my palm against the table and straighten. “Got it. Keep me posted on what’s what.”
“Talk soon, Panda.”
Callie leaves the conference room, but I sit for a minute, staring out at the Boston city streets beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. From here, I can see the airport and the reminder that I’m flying to Philly, to my brother’s promotion ceremony and dinner, in under forty-eight hours, pierces me. Is my bullshit going to overshadow his achievement?
I was such an idiot, acting like I was untouchable. For years, too many seasons, I acted with impunity. I really believed that I had cracked the code with women. Be up-front, be funny, make them have a good time, and there’d be no hard feelings.
Anastasia and I hooked up once. It was months ago, after a big win against Chicago. I was a little tipsy on tequila and riding the natural high from saving the puck against a buzzer-beater tie. Ana looked like she stepped off the cover of a lingerie magazine, all curves and long hair. She smelled delicious, purred in my ear, and made me feel like I was bigger, better, than every other guy in the room.
I caved. It was one night. And, to be honest, it wasn’t even that good of a night. She was a fake moaner and I was desperate to be done with it all and bounce. If I knew the headache hooking up with her would cause, I wouldn’t have touched her with a ten-foot pole.
I push back from the table and stand, walking over to the window. I stare out until I find the waterfront building where Abbi lives. She’s there now, ignoring me, probably wishing she never tangled up with me in the first place.
Anastasia Luvorchik may have the modeling career and the type of beauty that women think defines desire.
But Abbi Walsh has the natural curves that get me hard the moment I see her. She has the type of mind that challenges and inspires me. Not to mention her heart is the only one I’ve ever wanted to sync up with. Abbi is the woman of my dreams and right now, she’s not giving me the time of day.
“Panda.” A knock sounds out a second after my name is called.
I turn around, frowning when I see James Ryan, our defenseman, in the doorway.
“You good?” he asks, frowning at me.
“Yeah,” I say, yanking on the back of my neck. “What are you doing here?”
“Quick meeting with Nick.” He points down the hall where his agent, Nick Stansela, holds meetings at The Meadows.
I nod and move toward him. “Right.”
“Hey.” He grabs my forearm when I’m closer. “All of this will eventually blow over. In another week, this will be old news. It’ll be like it never happened.”
“Sure,” I agree, forcing a smile. But inside, my stomach clenches and I feel sick. Because while James is right, this will blow over, he’s also wrong. In another week, I could lose Abbi forever.
I won’t ever forget that we happened. If only for a moment.
* * *
“Where is she?”I corner Chloe as soon as the game ends and I’m able to slip past the press, all clamoring for a statement when, for once in my life, I have nothing to say.
“Take it easy, man,” Austin says, a warning clear in his tone.
I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. “I’m sorry, Chlo. I’m just, I’m worried about her.”
Chloe nods in understanding, her expression softening as she places a hand on my forearm. She steers me away from the friends and family waiting for players, into a quiet corridor.
“What is it?” I whisper, knowing Austin is close behind.
“Panda, she’s got a lot going on right now.”
“What does that mean?” I work to keep my voice controlled. The last thing Chloe needs is my misplaced anger but damn, now my concern is morphing into frustration because—is Abbi letting her girl give me the brush-off?
Chloe sighs and fiddles with the ends of her hair. Austin steps up beside her, his hand finding her hip protectively. “It means, she’s not in a good headspace right now. She’s working through things and …”
“And?”
“She needs time.” Chloe’s voice is filled with apology but her words still rip through me.
“So, she’s letting you speak for her now? How the hell can she shut me out like this?”
Chloe wrings her hands together, shuffling from one foot to the next. “Please try to understand. She’s struggling—”
“With?”
Helplessness fills Chlo’s eyes but I don’t give a damn. I want answers. And even though it’s not fair to put Abbi’s best friend, my Captain’s girl, on the spot, that’s exactly what I do.
“I can’t tell you that,” Chloe murmurs. “She needs to tell you. And honestly, I don’t know if she’s at a place where she can. Yet.”
As quickly as my anger spiked, it transforms into concern. “Is she okay?”
“I hope so,” Chloe murmurs.
“Chloe, what the hell—”
“Sorry. Physically she’s fine. She’s not in danger or anything,” Chloe blurts out.
“Well thank fuck for small miracles,” I shoot back.
Austin shoots me another warning look, pulling Chloe back against his chest.
“Sorry,” I mutter again.
Chloe gives me a soft smile. “I know you’re worried. It’s just, Abbi’s working through a lot of things right now, Panda. She feels guilty about you being suspended. She’s ashamed that those photos leaked. She’s…look, she has a tough time letting people in.” I open my mouth to point out how easily she clicks with Chloe’s friends and the Boston girls, but Chloe holds up her hand. “She’s friendly and warm and kind. She’s an amazing friend who always gives an ear or a shoulder. But she doesn’t let people in to be there for her. Abbi and I were friends for years in college but it wasn’t until she got played by her college boyfriend—”
“Kent,” I spit out.
“Kent.” Chloe nods. “It wasn’t until Kent and the drama that unfolded in the sorority house that Abbi really let me in. I had been trying for two years and while we were close, we were always discussing my drama or issues, and only glossing over hers. It took a life-shifting event that left her hurt and reeling for her to turn to her closest friends, to really trust me. She opened up to you faster than I’ve ever seen before and I think even that scares the hell out of her.” Chloe tucks her hair behind her ears and shoots me an apologetic smile. “Right now, she’s safe but she’s working through some things and that’s all I can tell you. If she wants to talk, she’ll reach out. But if she’s not taking your calls, it’s best to back off for a minute.”
“Back off?” I repeat, staring at the adorable couple before me. Suddenly, I’m angry at them. How dare they give me advice when they’re cuddled up looking like an engagement photo shoot?
Austin sighs, reaching forward to clasp my shoulder. “Give it a few days, buddy. Just, go to Philly tomorrow, spend time with your family, and let the dust settle.”
At his words, horror rolls through me. “You mean because of Anastasia?”
“I mean because of a lot of things,” he says.
I shake off his touch and mumble good night under my breath.
Then I head home to an empty apartment that seems to close in on me as I realize just how alone I am. The next morning, I avoid the Internet at all costs and board a plane to Philly, wondering if Abbi will ever speak to me again.
I don’t have to wonder long because when I land, all hell breaks loose, and I hate myself for putting my girl in such a vulnerable position.
“Pandatelli, are the rumors true?”
“Are you about to become a baby daddy?”
“How’s Abbi taking the news? Or is she upset you didn’t knock her up first?”
“Are you going to support your child?”
“Where’s Abbi?”
Paparazzi and reporters alike swarm. Cameras flash, blinding me. My anger rises but this time, I have the good sense to swallow it down. I duck my head and move through the bodies blocking my path to baggage claim.
“What? You’re not going to talk to us? Come on, Panda, give us something.”
“You used to smile more. This girl is really messing with your head.”
“Any words to Timms?” one of them hollers, mentioning the guy I pummeled. I wince and pull my suitcase off the belt.
Luckily, two men flank me moments later and point toward the exit. They’re dressed in suits and I’m not sure if they’re security, a car service, or fancy bloggers.
“What’s going on?” I ask, as one of them reaches for my suitcase.
“Callie sent us,” he explains. “We got a car waiting for you right there.” He points to the windows, and I see a black sedan with tinted windows idling at the curb.
Relief rolls through me. “Thanks, guys.”
I follow them to the exit, grateful for their presence as the paparazzi and reporters fall back a bit. They still yell out taunts and questions but they’re easier to ignore now that they’re not in my face.
Once I’m seated in the car and we’re pulling away from the airport, I dial Callie.
“You okay?” she answers.
“That was fucking mayhem,” I bite out.
“I figured it would be crazy. Did you see the headlines?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No. Now what?”
“Anastasia is claiming that you knew about her pregnancy from the beginning but refused to engage with her.”
“That’s bullshit! She fabricated this whole thing.”
“I know that, and you know that,” Callie says calmly. “But to everyone else, it looks…”
“Like I’m a worthless, piece of shit guy who thinks with my dick,” I finish the sentence.
Callie clears her throat and I swear.
“Callie, forget about me for a second. My girlfriend is being portrayed as a home-wrecker, an athlete chaser who will spread her legs for any man who wears a jersey, when—”
“I’m doing everything I can to fix it.”
“Well, try harder. Please.”
“I’ll keep you posted, Panda. Right now, try to enjoy this time with your family.”
I snort humorlessly and she laughs with me. It’s a release of tension.
“This is pretty fucked up,” I comment.
“It’s a fucking shitstorm,” Callie agrees. “Right now, I’m reaching out to Anastasia’s team. Maybe we can work something out.”
“It’s not my baby,” I remind her, knowing in my gut that I’m not the father.
“We still need to prove that with a paternity test,” my agent says gently. “Let me make some calls and I’ll check in with you later.”
“Okay. Thanks for…sending these guys.” I wave toward the two men sitting in the front of the car.
“No problem. Keep your head tonight. No matter what anyone says—”
“Don’t knock them out?”
“Don’t give them the time of day,” she says with finality.
“Yeah. Talk to you later, Callie.”
“I’m serious, Panda.”
“Me too.” I disconnect the call and watch Philadelphia streak past through the window.
I know what’s waiting for me at Pop’s house. I can easily conjure up the concerned and disappointed expressions of my sisters, the worried twist of Robbie’s mouth, the pain in Jenni’s eyes. Again, humiliation and guilt burn through me. Squeezing my eyes closed, I force myself to consider the damage control I need to do with my family, even though I’d rather think about the beautiful brunette who won’t take my calls.