Power Pucking Play (Chicago Blades)

17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Gio

I wake up feeling like I've just won the Stanley Cup, scored a hat trick, and been named MVP all at once. The gentle rocking of the yacht and the soft morning light filtering through the porthole create a dreamlike atmosphere.

For a moment, I wonder if last night was just that—a dream.

But then I feel Lexi stir beside me, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow, and reality hits me like a perfect shot.

It wasn't a dream. It was better.

I prop myself up on one elbow, taking in the sight of her.

She looks softer in sleep, the sharp edges of her reporter persona smoothed away. I resist the urge to trace the curve of her cheek, not wanting to wake her up just yet.

Instead, I carefully extract myself from the bed, pulling on my slacks and shirt. Lexi mumbles something in her sleep, reaching for where I was, and I can't help but smile.

"I'll be right back," I whisper, even though she can't hear me. "Don't go anywhere, Brookes."

The marina is quiet this early in the morning, with just a few early risers going about their business.

I nod to the security guard as I head toward the street, inhaling deeply.

The air smells like salt and possibility.

As I walk, I have to fight to keep the shit-eating grin off my face.

It's like every single thing is in technicolor this morning.

The sky seems bluer, the grass greener. Even the honking of impatient drivers sounds like a symphony.

Adding to the symphony is the buzzing of my phone inside my pants pocket.

I pull it out to notice a barrage of notifications from this morning...and last night.

Texts from teammates. Tweets from fans.

Shit. I look closer, noticing the news alerts about the Blades making the playoffs.

Another top contender lost and now we've got even a better shot of winning. It's only another reminder of the world waiting for me outside the bubble I've created with Lexi.

But as much as I dread it, I know I can't stay in this blissful bubble forever. Eventually, the season will end and she'll back to doing her job elsewhere. The thought alone is enough to make my chest tighten.

I push those thoughts aside and focus on the present, namely the little cafe where I plan on picking up breakfast for us.

Ordering as much food as I can carry, I make my way back to the yacht. I use the walk to scroll through my social media, smiling at the congratulatory messages and memes from my team.

"Way to go, De Luca! We fucking did it. Playoffs are ours, baby!" – Jacob

"Don't let it go to your heads, boys. We've still got work to do." – Coach (always the buzzkill)

"Proud of you, big bro. Maybe try not to punch anyone in the playoffs?" – Gabi

I'm about to reply when an unknown number flashes across my screen. I almost ignore it, not wanting to talk to a random person right now.

But something inside me nudges me to answer.

"Hello?" I say as I step onto the yacht, balancing the food bags in my other hand. "De Luca speaking."

"Gio De Luca! Parker Altman here, from Sports News Now . Got a minute to chat?"

My frown deepens. Another reporter from Lexi's network? I don't have time for their drama.

"I'm a little busy at the moment, Mr. Altman. Can this wait?"

"Sorry to bother you during your celebrations, but I wanted to get your thoughts on making the playoffs. This is a big achievement for the Blades and our viewers are dying to know how you feel."

I pause, considering his request. It wouldn't hurt to give a quick statement, right?

"Sure, I can give a quote."

"Well...I was hoping for a little more than that, Mr. De Luca. You see, I'm just following up on some leads for a story we're working on. Nothing major." His tone is casual, but there's an undercurrent of something that sets my teeth on edge.

"What kind of story?"

"So, we're doing a piece on the personal lives of NHL stars. You know, the stuff fans don't usually get to see. I was hoping you could confirm a few details for me."

Alarm bells start ringing in my head. I don’t even know this guy. What details could he possibly even want to confirm?

Unless...

"What kind of details?" I ask.

"Oh, you know. Childhood stuff, family dynamics. I heard your parents weren't really in the picture growing up. That must have been tough."

I feel like I've been sucker-punched. How the hell does he know about that? The only person I've talked to about my parents recently is...

Lexi.

My steps slow, the light morning air suddenly feeling suffocating.

My grip on my phone tightens and I swallow hard. "Sorry, I don't discuss my personal life with the press," I say, my voice tight. "If you have questions about hockey, feel free to send them over to my agent." I start to hang up, but he interrupts me.

"Oh, come on, Mr. De Luca We both know there's more to you than just hockey. What about your grandmother? I heard she practically raised you and your sister. Must have been a real saint, taking on two kids like that."

I swear. My cell phone almost disintegrates in my hand. "I said, I don't discuss my personal life. If you have any other questions, you can direct them to the Blades' PR team. Now, kindly get the fuck off my phone.”

I hang up, my good mood evaporating like ice under a heat lamp.

How did the fuck did this Altman guy know about Nonna? About my parents? The only person I've opened up to about all that is Lexi. I told her things I've never told anyone…like how it really felt to be abandoned by your own parents. And how it's made me someone that always has to prove himself at all costs.

Lexi, who works for the same network as this Altman guy.

Lexi, who's supposed to be writing a feature on me.

Lexi, who I thought I could trust.

My steps quicken as I make my way back to the marina. My mind is racing, trying to piece together what the hell just happened.

Talking to Lex about my family, my parents, is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. The thought that she could be engaging in “work pillow-talk” about me is more than I can bear.

What, was my family history juicy gossip to share with her colleagues? A topic of water-cooler conversation about poor, angry, misguided Gio De Luca?

I want to believe that's not true. That the Lexi I've gotten to know—the one who cheered for me at the game, who made me laugh, who I've shared my hopes and fears with—wouldn't do something like that.

But the journalist in her, the one who's made a career out of exposing the fuck-ups of athletes like me...can I really trust that she's put that aside?

As I approach the yacht, I take a deep breath, trying to school my features into something resembling normalcy.

I'm not going to confront her. Not yet.

Not until I have more information.

Doesn't help that I find her still asleep, curled up in the same spot.

For a moment, looking at her peaceful face, all my doubts seem ridiculous. How could I think she'd betray me like that?

But then I remember Altman's questions, the intimate details he somehow knew, and the doubt creeps back in.

I set the coffee and pastries on the bedside table, resisting the urge to wake her, to demand answers. Instead, I scribble a quick note:

"Had to run. Early practice. There's a list of numbers on the nightstand when you wake up. The captain and crew will help you with whatever you need, including a ride home when you're ready. Enjoy breakfast. - G"

It's a lie. Practice isn't for hours yet.

But I need time to think. To figure out what the hell is going on and what I'm going to do about it.

Last night, I thought we were on the verge of something real, something lasting. Now, I'm not sure what to think.

I head back to my apartment, my mind a battlefield of conflicting emotions.

Part of me wants to trust Lexi, to believe that what we have is real.

But another part, the part that's been burned before, that's spent years building walls to keep people out, is screaming at me to run. To protect myself before it's too late.

I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can trust her.

I start my usual pre-game routine on autopilot.

Stretch. Hydrate. Visualize. But my mind keeps drifting back to Lexi, to Altman's call, to the sinking feeling in my gut that says this is all too good to be true.

I should confront her. Ask her about Altman, about the lies and secrets.

But what if she denies it? What if she has a perfectly reasonable explanation?

Do I want to risk losing her over suspicions and doubts?

But can I continue being with someone I don't fully trust?

My head hurts from the internal debate.

I grab my phone and dial Lexi's number, but then quickly hang up before it rings.

I can't do this right now.

And it's just my luck that as I get ready to actually make the trip down to practice, my phone buzzes with a text from the one and only...

"Thanks for breakfast. Last night was...wow. Can we talk later?"

I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the reply button.

What am I supposed to say? “Hey, did you happen to share all my deepest secrets with your coworkers? Just curious.”

In the end, I settle for a noncommittal "Sure. After the game."

As I finish getting ready, strapping on my gear like armor, I try to focus on the game ahead. The playoffs. The chance to prove myself, to show that I'm more than just a hothead with a good slapshot.

And as much as it pains me, I have to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. For the possibility that Lexi Brookes may not be who she claims to be, after all.