“How do you feel coming out of this second game of the series with a win?”

“I think a win is a win. Boston is a really tough team, but so are the Sharks. I think by losing game one, and winning game two, were showing that the finals are really up for grabs.” I answered into the microphone as I looked out over the sea of reporters.

Langley called on the next reporter.

“Do you feel you’re getting enough backup from your defensive lines?”

“Absolutely. Especially on nights like tonight, it’s great to feel the team come together. I can definitely say that the addition of Hudson Porter has been integral in our success throughout the playoffs.” I took a sip of my water as Langley called on another reporter.

“How do you feel about his…shall we say standoffish approach to the press?” Another asked.

“I think sometimes the lines between paparazzi and journalists can go blurry, and for someone who has been relentlessly hounded by the paparazzi, it’s understandable that he doesn’t want to occupy the hot seat.” Just like I was at this moment. Media responsibilities had always been a part of the job, but Porter took it to the next level.

“So, do you think it was right for the Sharks to levy fines?” One of the journalists called out, not waiting to be called upon.

“That’s not for me to have an opinion on. And if Porter is willing to pay the fine, then what’s the matter? I just wish my salary could afford me the same downtime after the game,” I added with a grin and was awarded with a murmur of laughter from the press.

“Last question,”  Langley ordered, carefully choosing the last reporter.

“If you had to say there was one thing the Sharks needed heading into the next two games at home, what would it be?”

“That’s easy,” I said, leaning into the microphone. “Focus. We just need focus.”

Langley got me out of there, and an hour later, we headed for the airport to catch the plane that would carry me home. I wasn’t a fan of flying overnight, but it would get the team home for two full days before game three.

“I heard you defended me in there,” Porter said, stretching his legs out in the seat next to me.

The commercial-sized jet had been configured to fly in comfort—no one wanted to lose a Stanley Cup because a defenseman had a crick in his neck. The large armchairs were set in groupings of four with a table between them and plenty of room to recline to a full bed. Definitely ruined a guy for flying commercially, but worth it on stretches like this.

“You have my back on the ice, and I have yours in there. Besides, I think it’s bullshit that media responsibilities even exist. I just want to play hockey.”

“Amen,” he said, popping on his headphones and settling back into the headrest.

We had about ten minutes until take off, and if I was quick, I might catch Ivy before bed. I slipped my cell phone from my pocket and dialed Ivy, loving that she was my most recent call.

“Hey baby,” she said in greeting.

“Hey yourself,” I answered. Just the sound of her voice lowered my blood pressure and my pulse. “How was your day?”

Pepper and Eric took the seats on the other side of the aisle, with Lukas and Noble rounding out their four, and I gave them a nod.

“Better now that I’m hearing from you again.” I could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah, me too. I’m grateful for the win, but it feels so much better with you and Hannah in the stands.” Growing up, it never mattered to me who was watching because usually no one was, but Ivy changed all that, consistently bringing Hannah to every home game.

“We missed you, too,” she told me with a little sigh. “You guys are headed home tonight though, right?”

“On the plane as we speak. We should land about 6 AM Seattle time, so I’m guessing I’ll make it home around seven.” God, I couldn’t wait. I missed my girls.

“Good, you’ll be a great wake-up surprise for Hannah. But heads up, we’re at my place. The alarm company was at the house all day installing the new system, and Hannah said the incessant beeping was giving her headache, so we came here.”

“Damn,” I said, dropping my voice lower. “Guess that means I can’t fantasize about you in my bed.”

Her laugh was low and seductive. “Hey, you can fantasize all you want. Isn’t that the fun?”

“I miss you,” I said, just because I could. Dropping those three little words had freed something inside me, I’d finally given myself permission to be open about all my feelings when it came to Ivy.

“I miss you,” she echoed. “That was some hat trick tonight.”

I waved off the flight attendant, who gestured at me to put the phone.

“So, you were watching,” I assumed.

“Like we would be doing anything else,” she teased.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to hang that up,” the flight attendant said with a firm I-will-kick-you-off-this-plane tone.

When I saw the tense lines on Langley’s face a few seats ahead, staring me down, I nodded at the flight attendant.

“Okay babe, I gotta go. Time to get this bird in the air so I can get home to you.”

“Now that is the best thing I’ve heard all day,” she replied. “I love you, Connor.”

“Not as much as I love you,” I responded before hanging up. I knew that was true and was okay with that. After all, Ivy was surrounded with people to love—Pepper, her dad, Hannah, and me, of course. Hell, I loved her even more because of how much she loved Hannah. But Ivy had grown up loved, in a family that might have been a little broken after the death of her mother, but still showed up for each other. She’d always had Pepper, even when their dad was distant.

I’d grown up knowing I was responsible for my older sister, and love was a myth, or worse, a noose around your neck.

Loving Ivy was different. It wasn’t toxic, or tainted, or strained, or even conditional. It simply was. And though I loved Hannah, I knew she would choose Jess if she could, just like any other five-year old girl would. And I would never blame her for that.

But Ivy always chose me. For that fact alone, I knew that my love for her eclipsed everything else. And maybe it was scary to open myself up like I had, but I learned early in my life that without the risk, there was no reward.

And Ivy’s heart was the prize of all prizes. One I couldn’t wait to unwrap once I got home.

I startled awake at a touch on my shoulder.

Langley hovered, clearly concerned about something.

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and tried to clear the brain-fog that came from being woken up mid-dream. It had been a good one, too, full of Ivy and none of Ivy’s clothes. I gave my lap a quick glance to make sure my dream wasn’t...obvious and almost sighed in relief.

“Langley?” I asked, my voice scratchy.

“I need you to wake up,” she told me, her voice kind, but all business. “What do you need to be fully awake?”

That comment was it. Adrenaline shot through my veins and my heart pounded. “My family?” I croaked. God, had something happened? Had Jessica left rehab? Was she hurt? Had someone broken into Ivy’s house?

“No, no,” She reassured me, dropping to my eye level as I brought my chair into a sitting position. “They’re fine. It’s nothing like that.”

Everyone around me still slept on, and my heart slowed the tiniest fraction.

“Okay. What time is it?” And why in the fuck was she waking me up?

“About four a.m. Seattle time. We’ve got about two hours before we land. Do you want to go somewhere more private? There’s something I need to tell you, well, show you.” Her dark eyes had a level of concern in them I’d never seen, at least not sent in my direction.

“Here is ok,” I said. If there was going to be bad news, I’d rather hear it with Eric and Lukas nearby.

“Everything ok?” Pepper asked, leaning over Eric.

“I’m not sure,” I answered truthfully.

Langley’s lips pursed as she glanced at Pepper. “Are you sure you don’t want to do this...somewhere else?”

“Since I don’t even know what this is, I’m fine with right here,” I answered.

Eric stirred, and both he and Pepper came to a sitting position as Langley took the seat across from me. Porter slept on in his noise-cancelling-bliss.

“There’s no easy way to describe this, so I’m just going to show you,” she said, pulling an iPad from her bag. “The morning edition of the Chronicle hit about half an hour ago.”

“Let me see it,” I demanded, worry flooding my gut.

“And you need to know that I’ve already been on the phone with the executive editor of the Chronicle and threatened legal action because I know none of this could be true—”

“Let. Me. See. It.” I held out my hand, but she still clutched the iPad to her chest.

“And our lawyers say as soon as we can refute it, we can have it pulled offline, but the print is already out for delivery, and it’s not like they can run around Seattle blacking out every paper.”

“Let me see it!” I snapped, my temper flaring.

She locked eyes with me, letting me know she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by my outburst. Then again, she worked for an NHL team. I didn’t think much intimidated her.

“Please,” I added softly.

She handed the iPad over.

I recognized Ivy’s picture on the byline immediately, but the title...Was this a joke?

Connor Bridgerton, Seattle Shark Leads Double Life

“What the hell?” I muttered.

“What?” Eric asked.

I started to read aloud, “Bridgerton may be one of the Sharks’ most powerful skaters and shooter, but he deceives the public on a daily basis. On the surface, he’s a kind, generous Shark who likes to take his niece to the aquarium on the weekends. In reality? He’s a conceited jerk with a darkness that only seeps out around those closest to him.”

There was a picture of Hannah, looking up at me with abject fear on her face, and the caption, “is an addict with a temper capable of caring for a minor?”

“Holy shit,” Eric said, coming to stand over my shoulder.

“We were at the Ferris wheel. She was scared, but we told her she didn’t have to go up if she wanted. She decided she wanted to, so we all went. Who the fuck did this?”

The answer was right in front of my face, but I couldn’t believe Ivy would do this to me. To Hannah.

“Hailing from a family of drug abusers, Bridgerton hasn’t fallen far from the tree, though he goes to extreme lengths to keep his problem quiet, paying off those who might come forward, even his own mother.”

There was a shot of me handing mom the envelope with $100K. I. Was. Fucked.

“Oh my God, they’re going to take Hannah.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“No one’s taking Hannah,” Eric assured me. “We’ll figure this out.”

I couldn’t even read the rest of the article, but I skimmed enough to see the word, “abusive,” with a picture of me hauling Jessica over my shoulder while she screamed, hitting my back. Then “addict,” with another shot, this one holding the bag of Jess’s heroin paraphernalia.

Then the article insinuated that I’d even been to rehab in the off-season and failed, citing that a facility close to Seattle could neither confirm nor deny my status as a patient, but an inside source had seen me at the facility recently and stated that a “guest” by the name of Bridgerton was being given the VIP treatment.

It was the final sentence of the article that hit me in the chest.

“He pretends to be perfect, but he’s a slave to his addiction, and the last person who should be raising any child, let alone one as vulnerable as his niece.”

I put the iPad down on the table, and Pepper immediately grabbed it.

“There’s no way she’d do this to you. She loves you.” Pepper’s words came out faster than machine gun fire.

“She apparently loves her career more.”

“No. There’s no way.” Her forehead puckered. “I mean, something’s off about it.”

“Yeah, like the fact that the woman I love just guaranteed that I’m going to lose my niece, all so she could get the scoop that would solidify her job.”

“No,” Pepper said softly. “I mean, she’s a reporter, but—”

“Fuck that. Look at those pictures, Pepper. She’s a paparazzi. I was just an easy target.” An easy target that was going to puke at any second.

“Conner,” Eric said, sympathy dripping from his perfect voice. With his perfect life, and his perfect wife, and perfect everything.

“Don’t,” I hissed. My stomach was on the floor, no doubt squeezed out by the pressure on my chest from the vise wrapped around my chest.

“What’s going on?” Porter mumbled, ripping his headphones off.

“You’re going to need to wake up, too, seeing as you’re mentioned in one of the captions,” I told him. “Did you punch one of those druggies when we went to get my sister?” I asked him.

“Hell yeah,” he said with a nod. “Guy tried to steal a purse right off a lady in front of the building when you were coming down the stairs with Jess. Why do you think they ran out of there so quickly?”

“Go figure, you punching someone,” Langley muttered, rubbing the skin between her eyes and flashing a large engagement ring.

“It was a good cause,” he fired back.

She pointed at him. “I’ll deal with you later.” She took a deep breath. “It’s like being the mother of a group of petulant toddlers who won’t listen,” she muttered quietly.

“Nice,” Porter scoffed.

She blatantly ignored him. “Ok, first question. Are you a drug addict?”

I’d been through hell, and done everything possible to never be asked that question. And yet here I was, having my life ripped apart because I’d been stupid enough to fall for a fucking reporter.

“I’ve never done a drug in my life,” I answered truthfully.

She sighed in obvious relief. “Okay, then start at the beginning.”

Three and a half hours, I stood outside Ivy’s door, flanked by Pepper, Eric, and my attorney.

God, I’d left here four days ago certain that I would spend the rest of my life with Ivy, and now I just needed her out of my life as quickly as possible. As far away from Hannah as the Earth would allow.

“Are you ready for this?” Eric asked.

Pepper remained silent, as she had since the plane, knowing she was smack in the middle of something she hadn’t started or even contributed to.

Why couldn’t I have fallen for someone like her? With compassion and honor, and capable of true love?

Because it was over for you the moment you saw Ivy.

I just hadn’t realized it had been over in every way possible.

“Let’s do this,” I said.

Pepper stepped forward, using her key to open the door. She entered with Eric right behind her.

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” Mr. Barnes said, already having given me the rundown on what I could and couldn’t say to Ivy.

I nodded and walked into the apartment.

The scent of pancakes hit my nose a millisecond before Hannah filled my arms.

“Uncle Connor!” She squeezed me tight, and I held on to her for dear life, praying it wouldn’t be the last time. “I missed you! We have pancakes! I already ate, but there are some for you!”

Her hair was in a ponytail, a riot of curls around her head, and she was already dressed for preschool, which started in thirty-five minutes.

“I missed you, Hannah-Banana,” I told her, my voice clogging. God, what had I done to her? What was going to happen?

“You sound funny. Are you okay?” she asked.

I kissed her forehead. “Right as rain. Why don’t you go grab your backpack? We need to get you to school.” I kept my voice as light as possible as I lowered her to the ground, even though it felt like I was being cracked in two.

“What?” I heard Ivy shout from the kitchen.

I stayed exactly where I was, waiting for Hannah to return.

“Connor!” Ivy came skidding around the corner in her socks, iPad in hand. “I didn’t do this! You have to believe me!”

“Your name is on it,” I said as calmly as possible, watching the door to her guest bedroom, which used to be Pepper’s.

“I can see that, but Connor, please. I love you. I would never hurt you like this!” She stood in front of me, and slowly, I lowered my eyes to hers.

God, I wanted to believe her, to fall into her, into the life I’d had mapped out in my head when I left here four days ago. Her blue eyes were wide, pleading.

I loved her enough to listen.

“So you didn’t write that article?” I asked, hating the hope that leaked into my voice. I knew Ivy and I could weather any storm...but betrayal, especially betrayal that could hurt Hannah.

“No!” Her eyes dropped to the iPad, scrolling. “I mean, I guess a little? I kind of did.”

My fucking heart stopped beating. It just...died. Or at least it felt like it did.

“You kind of did.”

She nodded. “It was a joke. I wrote it forever ago, but just as this...God, it was stupid. But only parts of it! The rest of it, I have no idea where it came from.”

“He pretends to be perfect, but he’s a slave to his addiction,” I repeated, the phrase burned in my memory. “Did you write that?”

The blood drained from her face, and I had my answer.

“Yes,” she whispered, “but not in the way you think.”

“One question,” I asked quietly as Hannah bounded out of the bedroom, her backpack slung over her shoulders. “Did you write it before or after I took custody of Hannah?”

Before or after it was her life on the line and not just my reputation.

“After,” she admitted.

“How could I have been so stupid?’ I asked in a whisper.

“Hey Banana, how about I take you to the car and let these two finish up?” Eric offered.

I looked over Ivy’s shoulder to see Hannah nodding, her face puckered in confusion. “It’s okay, Hannah, I’ll be right there. And Mr. Barnes is right outside. You remember meeting him, right?”

She nodded.

“I’ll be right there,” I repeated as Eric lifted her into his arms and walked out.

“Hannah,” Ivy whispered, grief etched on every line of her face.

“Don’t,” I snapped as the door shut. “This,” I pointed to the iPad. “This is unforgivable. I get that you needed a story. I do. But you used me. Used Hannah. And now there’s a very real chance that I could lose her, not just for the accusations you make in the article, but the pictures. The pictures, Ivy! That’s my mother, and I’m giving—”

I sucked in a breath, remembering the advice Mr. Barnes had given me.

“You know what, I can’t trust you enough to tell you. Not with Hannah’s life on the line. I never should have trusted you in the first place if this is how you’ve felt the entire time.”

“I love you!”

“No, you fucking don’t!” I yelled, taking a step back from her. “Love doesn’t write shit like this. Love protects, it doesn’t expose its partner to the elements and then watch them break. Love doesn’t twist the heart of a little girl for career gain.”

“Connor,” she pled, stepping forward, but I put a hand out.

“Every single one of those pictures is me protecting Hannah. That’s love. That’s the love I would have given you—the love I did give you. But damn, Ivy. You’re worse than the paparazzi. At least they stand outside, taking pictures of the very edges of my life and never get in. You...You worked your way into my heart—into Hannah’s heart—and captured us from the inside until you ripped your way out.”

I didn’t wait for her reply. There was nothing else she could say.

Two hours later, with Hannah dropped off at preschool, I paced in my kitchen. I needed to keep everything as normal for her as possible. Even if her normal wasn’t going to exist by pick-up time.

“You’re going to wear a path through the floor,” Lukas warned me.

“Don’t give a fuck,” I responded.

Mr. Barnes walked by on his own pacing path, on yet another phone call.

The doorbell rang, and Langley pointed her finger at me. “You stay there.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” I snapped back. Barnes had put security at the curb, which meant I was not winning any points with my neighbors, but the paps weren’t getting up to the door. Fuck it, I’d send the neighbors fruit baskets to make up for it or something.

Hell, I might as well have let them in, considering I’d been sleeping with one.

Langley opened the door to see Porter standing on the other side, two drink carriers full of coffee in his hands. “It seemed like it might be too early for whiskey.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking the carriers and passing them to Lukas as Porter— “Shit! That’s Shea!”

Heads turned as Hannah’s social worker pushed through the crowd of paparazzi, the guards not helping her as much as they could have.

“Shit. Porter?” I asked.

“She’s a social worker?” he asked, blinking.

“Yeah, can you—”

Shit, she was getting jostled at the edge of the crowd.

“On it.” He strode toward the paparazzi just as the guards stepped aside to let Shea through. It looked like her bag got tangled with one of the pap’s, and as she tugged it free, she fell backward—straight into Porter.

Thank God.

He picked her up, dwarfing her tiny frame, and brought her back to the house, only putting her down once he was inside the foyer. She barely came up to mid-chest on him.

“I could have walked,” she snapped, pushing her glasses up her nose. “But...thank you.” She peered up at him for a second look, quickly glancing away.

“You’re welcome,” he said gruffly.

“Mr. Bridgerton, let’s,” she looked around, “the dining room will work since it seems you have a full staff today.” She headed over before I even responded.

“Holy curves on that one,” Lukas remarked, watching Shea’s backside.

“Shut the fuck up,” Porter snapped.

We both turned to look at him, but it was Langley, still on the phone, who snapped. “No. You’d eat her alive. No,” she waggled her finger at Porter and went to join Shea.

One of Porter’s eyebrows rose like he didn’t mind the thought, his eyes still glued to Shea.

I shook my head and walked over to the dining room. I was surrounded by assholes who thought with their dicks, which wasn’t a surprise since that’s what got me here.

“It’s already been taken down from the digital site,” Langley was telling Shea. “You know they wouldn’t do that unless they knew it was false reporting.”

“There’s zero context in those pictures, and every word of that article is slander,” Barnes added, turning back to his phone, “No, I’m still holding for Judge Strom.”

“Connor?” Shea prompted. I couldn’t get a read on her, didn’t know if she believed me or not.

Please don’t take my kid.

“The picture of Hannah is when she was deciding if she was going to ride the Ferris wheel. She’s scared of heights. The one in the cafe is me giving my mother cash because it keeps her and her drugs away from Hannah. The one with the woman is my sister, Jessica, who had fallen on the sidewalk, and I yes—used a little force—to get her to the car so she’d listen to me and go to rehab. I gave her Hannah’s Mother’s Day present, and she agreed to go. The bag of drug stuff fell out of her purse, and I happened to pick it up, you just can’t see me yelling at her. I have never, in my life, ever hurt a woman, and I’ve never done anything to harm Hannah beside let Ivy Harris into her life.”

Shea simply assessed me, watching for tells I couldn’t have because I wasn’t lying.

Then she ripped off her glasses and rubbed her forehead. “This is a fucking mess, Connor.”

“I know.”

“Do you? DSS has been taking calls since seven a.m. from people demanding we take Hannah, and people asking to foster her.”

The bottom dropped out from under my feet, and I clutched the dining room table to keep from falling.

“Don’t do this to her,” I begged. I wasn’t ever the guy to hit my knees, but for Hannah, I’d plead, beg, whatever it took. “None of this is true. None of it.”

“I believe you,” she admitted.

Some of the blood returned to my head.

“But I have to be sure. I answer to people, too.” She removed a paper bag from her purse. “Have you taken any form of drugs, whether prescribed or not?”

“Not one.”

“Not a painkiller for all that hockey stuff? It’s pretty violent, right?”

“Not even for that.”

“You don’t watch hockey?” Porter interrupted.

“I get enough of grown men beating things in my day job,” she answered Porter before handing me a cup. “Pee. Now.”

“I’ll…” Barnes sighed. “Watch him. Because that’s really what I wanted to do with my morning. No, not you,” he said into the phone, walking me to the bathroom. “I’m still holding for Judge Strom and so help me God, I will hold until he appears at the other end of this line or you can give me an update.”

Three minutes later, we stood at the dining room table, staring at a stick with my pee on it.

I wondered if this was how women felt, waiting to see if they were pregnant.

“Strom!” Barnes exclaimed and left the room, finally getting his call.

“Nervous?” Lukas asked.

“Nope. I’ve never done an illegal drug in my life.” I looked straight at Shea when I said it.

She flat-out sighed in relief when she read the test. “Negative. No need for further testing. Thank you, God.” She looked up at me. “The last thing I wanted to do was take Hannah. I know she’s loved. I know you’re doing well with her and that she’s stable. But don’t ever doubt that had this come back a different way, I would have yanked her.”

I nodded, unable to say anything.

“So she stays?” Porter clarified.

“She stays,” Shea confirmed, looking at me, and not him. “Everything else is circumstantial, or will be as soon as I talk to your sister.”

“You can do that right now. I’ll take you myself,” Barnes said. “Best you not come,” he told me. “So it doesn’t look like coercion.”

“Is she sober?” I asked.

Barnes nodded. “Sober, and capable of making sound decisions. I just talked to Judge Strom. She signed over her parental rights about fifteen minutes ago and chose to back to rehab.”

She chose to go back.

Holy shit, I had a chance at keeping Hannah and getting Jessica into her life if she stayed clean.

“Let’s go,” Shea said to Barnes. “I want this airtight so I can start getting adoption approval. And you might want to make some kind of statement to get those vultures off the lawn. They’ll scare Hannah.”

The two were still talking as they walked out of the house together.

“You won,” Lukas said, clapping me on the back.

“Yeah,” I answered. I’d won Hannah. I’d kept her safe.

I’d just lost my heart...lost Ivy...in the process.

If I’d ever really had her in the first place.