She inhaled, a supreme effort to hold off the tears. It was almost easier when he was pissed at her. “Can we not talk about this now? You probably should check in on your player.”
What the hell was Bast Durand doing on the ice after everyone else had left it? No way would she have skated on if she thought a player was still present.
Her father was still standing there, hands on hips, mouth like a hyphen. “Pepper, you need to start figuring things out. Establish some real goals.”
Easier said than done. One quick Google search told everyone all they needed to know about Pepper Calhoun.
“Dad, I’m sorry. Could you tell Bastian that it was an accident? If I can do anything, let me know.”
“You’ve done enough. You and I are going to have a chat about your future later.” With that ominous pronouncement, he left the room in a chill and Pepper in a dejected heap.
She changed into her regular clothes, an unassuming Henley with rolled-up jeans and ballet flats. Despite what happened, she felt exposed without the Rowdy Rebel costume. Sure, no one could see her face when she wore it, were barely aware that she was the human inside it, but there was comfort in that. Now that she had set it aside, she was determined to get out of here as quickly as possible. She would go home and wait for her father to ream her out properly.
She snuck a peek outside the door. All clear.
One step toward the exit, then another.
“Hey, Pepper.”
She turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Elle was walking toward her, holding the hand of Hatch, who at fourteen months, was an absolute delight. She still helped out as a part-time babysitter for the Kershaws a couple of days a week, which was about the only thing that kept her sane.
Just behind her was Sadie Yates, who was married to center Gunnar Bond, with a Babygro containing their three-month-old, Matti, wrapped around her body.
Pepper pinned on a smile for Hatch. “How’s it going, little guy?”
“Peppa!” He reached out and grabbed her leg.
Elle tried to hold him back. “He’s running me ragged. He was getting a bit over excited in the box, so I thought I’d bring him down here for a walk. We saw what happened.”
Pepper felt incredibly foolish in the presence of these uber-successful, have-it-all women. Elle was taking classes online toward a business degree, and Sadie was a famous fashion designer. And here was Pepper the mascot—a failed mascot, at that—wishing she could find an Internet-free desert island and hole up there for the rest of her life.
“I’m so embarrassed. You wouldn’t think I’d taken skating lessons until I was fifteen. I’m usually better than that.”
Hunkering down beside Hatch, she inhaled as a wave of nostalgia for her previous life washed over her. As much as she loved watching this little tyke, she missed the kids she used to work with, all those developing minds she wanted to influence. How uncomplicated things were before she met Kent. Just as she took tentative steps to get back on an even keel, a cartoon sledgehammer was on hand to knock her off course again.
“Hey, buddy, you excited to see Daddy at work?”
He was too young to understand her question, but he seemed to sense her distress. He touched her face, a gentle gesture that almost broke her. If she wasn’t ready to cry after tonight’s events, that would do it.
Blinking back the emotion, she stood and leaned in to take a gander at baby Matti and inhale a lungful of his soothing baby scent. “He looks so peaceful.”
“Yeah, he sleeps like a champ through the games,” Sadie said. “Not so much at nighttime.”
“Already bored by hockey.” She stroked the feathery wisps of hair on his head. “Keep up the good work.”
That drew laughs from the two women, and while Pepper would have liked to join in, it wouldn’t come.
“About tonight,” Sadie started. “It was just bad luck. Could’ve happened to anyone.”
But it hadn’t. “I should get going.” The exit beckoned, and she wanted to be anywhere but here. She turned back to Elle. “See you tomorrow?”
“If you’d rather take some time …”
“I’d like to keep busy. But if you’d prefer I didn’t …”
Elle shook her head vehemently. “Of course we want to see you! Let me know if anything changes.”
“You know, if you need to talk about anything, feel free to reach out to either of us,” Sadie said. “You know Elle a bit better, but I’m here too if you need a friendly ear.”
“Thanks!” She infused as much cheer into it as possible, then watched as Elle, Sadie, and their little ones headed back toward the exit that would lead them to the executive suites.
Pepper let out a breath. That might have been her life if it hadn’t all fallen apart so spectacularly a year ago. These women seemed nice enough, but then Pepper had thought that about the Denver Diamonds WAGs as well.
She turned the other way, anxious to put this night behind her.
Ten more steps and she’d be clear, at least until her father was ready to yell at her again.
“Pepper!”
The roar made her jump and almost tempted her to slam through the exit and remove herself from the threat as fast as her legs could carry her.
But she wasn’t going to run. Not from him.
When Coach told Bast who had bumped into him on the ice, he couldn’t believe it.
“Pepper? As in your daughter?” That’s why that prick, Connor, had been so cryptic. Say hi to my sister. She’s “at the game.” Very funny.
Bast had never heard of a female skater taking on mascot duties. Not that it needed any special skill other than the ability to stay upright.
And oh yeah—avoid the fucking players.
Coach had been furious, then apologetic.
It should never have happened, there’ll be hell to pay, and so on.
Well, of course. There should be, maybe a full-scale investigation into how something so catastrophic could have occurred. After a good ten minutes of oscillating between fury and sorrow, in which Bast didn’t get a word in, Coach had gone off to shout at someone. Pepper, probably. Though that should really be Bast’s right.
Tonight she’d screwed with his career, and here she was, scrambling for the exit. Old habits with this girl.
“Running away? Again?”
Turning, she faced him, those hazel eyes blown wide as they dipped to his arm in a sling. “How are you?”
The twin blades of anger and embarrassment were nicking at his organs. Bad enough he’d fallen over on the ice in what was sure to be the most meme-able gif doing the rounds this year, but why in the name of all that was fucking fucked did it have to be her?
Coach’s daughter.
Connor’s sister.
The woman he’d spent far too many nights fantasizing about.
While a cavalcade of curses did the rounds in his foggy brain, she approached him, her expression full of sympathy he neither wanted nor needed. “How bad is it?”
“Out for the season. Again.” An exaggeration, but he wanted her to feel as terrible as he did.
Her face fell, and he cheered the reaction. Maturity was on sabbatical.
“I’m sorry. I thought I had the all-clear. Usually I need someone to—”