The Season: Rush (Austin Arrows #1)

by Nicole Edwards

  “What does your brother think about this, Ms. Kaufman?”

  “Ms. Kaufman, has Rush ever put his hands on you out of anger?”

  Still completely baffled by the situation, I allow Kingston to shield me and Bianca against his big body, herding us down the corridor and out into the night. My car is somewhere in the parking lot, but I don’t get a chance to tell Kingston that before he’s leading us to his truck and hurrying us inside.

  As he’s pulling out of the parking lot, I stare over at him, not sure what to say. In a matter of minutes, I’ve gone from being unknown to most of the world to being hassled by reporters. Not exactly how I imagined this night—or any night, for that matter—ending.

  “Sorry about that,” he says, not looking over at me as he steers down the dark streets. Most of the traffic has already thinned because the game ended nearly forty-five minutes ago.

  I replay the last few minutes in my head, trying to figure out what happened. Then it hits me.

  “Did you tell the press about us?” I ask, my voice a rough whisper. I have yet to explain the full situation to Bianca, and now doesn’t seem the appropriate time to go into it.

  Kingston glances over at me, the sharp angles of his face highlighted by the blue lights from the dashboard. “It might’ve come out. Apparently I’ve got a few stalkers on Twitter that I didn’t know about.”

  Twitter?

  Oh, no.

  It never occurred to me that posting that Tweet—or Kingston responding to it—would cause this to happen.

  “Oh, my God!” Bianca exclaims from the backseat. “I’ve got fifty new followers on Twitter!”

  Fifty? Wow.

  I lean back in my seat and take a deep breath.

  Yep. Looks as though me and relatively normal are no longer acquaintances. We have officially parted ways.

  Meanwhile, in hockey news…

  “Yes, Jim, based on what we saw tonight, I’d say the Arrows are looking to turn things around from last year.”

  “I’m not sure you can say that after one game, Ed.”

  “One game? On the season opener, the Arrows shut out Chicago. The Stanley Cup champs from last year. I’m not sure those two teams were in the same hemisphere last year. That can’t be said about what we saw out there tonight.”

  “I’ll give you that. They seemed to have their stuff together. Nice puck handling, for sure. Their captain, Spencer Kaufman, took the lead. He looked good and the team meshed. A far different situation than last year.”

  “And what about Patrick Benne? That kid is going to be someone to keep an eye on this season.”

  “No doubt about it, Jim. There’s a reason he was pulled in the first round. Although the Arrows haven’t shown any substance for the past two years, if they utilize Benne, they’ll be moving in the right direction. But I want to take a minute to talk about Kingston Rush. I’m not sure he’s played a better game in … in forever.”

  “Completely agree. He was smoking out there tonight. He seemed to anticipate every single move. Quite impressive. Hopefully that’s a sneak peek at things to come. And the big news of the night is what they confirmed in the locker room after the game. He might not be aware of it, but before the game started, Kingston Rush lit up Twitter with his response to the woman we’re now learning to be his girlfriend.”

  “That did get some attention, I agree.”

  “For any single ladies who were seeking the man’s attention, it looks as though Mount Rushmore is officially off the market. And he’s settling down with Kaufman’s sister, of all people. Maybe love has him working a little harder.”

  “That’s a big leap from where he was at the end of last season. The allegations brought against him…”

  “It’s important to call out that those allegations were later recanted.”

  “True, Ed.”

  “And how about Chicago tonight…”

  12

  Kingston

  Although it appears I might’ve earned a few brownie points with Bianca by getting her a few more Twitter followers, I certainly didn’t intend for things to go quite like this.

  Yes, it’s my fault. I never thought for a second that when I replied to Ellie’s tweet that the reporters would pick up on it. And then, when one of them mentioned it, for some insane reason, I opted to confirm my relationship with Ellie during my after-game interview. From that point, the shit hit the fan. The few reporters who were standing there waiting to talk to me actually turned tail and left, leaving me to finish the interview as fast as I could. I knew where they were headed, and I’d wanted to get to Ellie before they did.

  Unfortunately, that’s not what happened.

  As for how things turned out afterward … I didn’t quite expect the reporters to go after her so quickly. I should’ve known that the little morsel of gossip I gave them would induce a feeding frenzy and make them hungry for more.

  “I should have you drop me off at the bar,” Ellie notes when I turn down her street.

  “Probably not a good idea tonight.” No doubt about it, Ellie is going to be a hot topic for at least a couple of days, and since the Penalty Box is the known hangout for the team when we win a home game, there will be reporters lurking.

  “You think the reporters are going to confront me after tonight?” she asks, frowning.

  “It’s a good probability.”

  I pull my truck into her driveway, shut off the engine, and hop out quickly so I can help both of them out. I manage to reach the passenger door to open it before Ellie gets out, but Bianca is too fast for me, darting out of the backseat like her ass is on fire.

  “What about my car?” Ellie questions as she unlocks the front door.

  “I’ll get Spencer to run me up there, and I’ll drive it back for you.”

  Ellie nods just as Bianca squeals. “Thirteen more followers! Ohemgee! This is freaking awesome.”

  I watch as Ellie’s daughter bounds up the stairs toward her bedroom.

  “Want a drink?” Ellie offers.

  “Water’s good.”

  “I was thinking something stronger,” she says with a weak smile.

  “This will blow over,” I assure her, stopping her before she can pass by me.

  I gently hold her shoulders and peer down at her, studying her beautiful face. I can’t resist tipping her head up with my finger, forcing her to look at me. I feel like an ass for what I did, and I need to know she doesn’t hold it against me.

  God, I want to kiss this woman so badly I can practically taste her. The way she’s looking at me says she won’t be completely opposed to the idea, but I know better than to push it right now. There will be plenty of time for that. Later.

  Much later.

  As in, definitely not tonight.

  “I’m just a little surprised by it, I guess.” Ellie breaks free of my hold and heads for the kitchen. “I get it. You’re famous. People love you. They want to know everything that’s going on with you, but I wasn’t expecting them to be so up in my business.”

  I smile, taking a seat at the breakfast bar. I find it amusing that Ellie can say all of that and still be confused by the aggressive reporters. They report on the game, it’s what they get paid to do, but it’s the details of the players’ lives that they want in on. If they can get the inside scoop—not simply what everyone else who watched the game saw—they have a leg up.

  I should’ve kept my damn mouth shut. Or at least given Ellie a heads-up beforehand.

  When Ellie hands over a bottle of water, I thank her, continuing to watch as she moves around the kitchen. She looks nervous.

  She stops suddenly and peers back at me. “Is it always like that?”

  “Always like what?” I ask after gulping down half the bottle.

  “The press? Are they usually that pushy?” She heads to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of wine. “I mean, I’ve seen them talk over each other often, but only with players, not with … others.”

  I shrug. “I ma
ke a point to only talk about the game.”

  “Except tonight?” Ellie pauses as she reaches to get a glass from the rack above the sink.

  “Except tonight,” I agree. I still don’t know what came over me, but for some stupid reason I wanted the world to know that she is mine. Even if she really isn’t. It’s a selfish move, but one I won’t regret just yet.

  I will have to find a way to keep her out of the spotlight as best I can. If for no other reason than for Bianca’s sake. I know Ellie can handle herself, but I definitely don’t want Bianca to get caught up in it. That’s the only thing I’m bothered by. The fact that I didn’t put Bianca first irks the shit out of me. If I want Ellie in my life, I know I have to put Bianca first, as well.

  Ellie takes a sip of her drink, then stops to look at me.

  “That one reporter asked if you’d ever put your hands on me out of anger.” Her eyebrows lift. “Why are they still harping on that?”

  Shit.

  I knew she’d pick up on that one though I’d hoped to be lucky enough that she hadn’t heard. Considering all the shit that went down with that woman and her false accusations, I figure that’s going to be a question Ellie hears often.

  Still, I want to shield her from it. It’s bullshit—the woman even admitted it—yet it somehow manages to surround me.

  “Just ignore them. It’s in the past,” I mumble, finishing off the rest of my water before taking the empty bottle to the recycle bin.

  “I think it’s safe to say that’s a lie.”

  It isn’t really a lie—it is in the past—but I don’t want to get into it with Ellie right now. Talking about that crazy bitch who came out of the woodwork and attempted to sabotage me for no fucking reason is a surefire way to piss me off, and I’m still riding the high from our win tonight.

  “If you’ll give me your keys, I’ll run down Spencer and go get your car for you,” I offer.

  Ellie doesn’t look pleased by my subject change, but at the moment, it’s the only thing I know to do.

  I do not want to talk about this.

  Not yet.

  Maybe not ever.

  Bianca

  “Oh, my God, Bianca. What if he becomes your dad? How cool would that be?” Gabby asks.

  As soon as I got up to my room, I called Gabby to tell her what happened at the game. I told her about all the new Twitter followers I got and how those reporters followed us out of the building like my mom was famous or something.

  “I don’t think that’ll happen,” I tell her. Although, I did think about it on the drive back to the house. I pulled up Kingston on Twitter and I saw the tweets about him. Apparently a lot of people are happy that he’s found a girlfriend. I’m only a little upset that my mom didn’t tell me herself. Part of me thinks that this might not be real since Uncle Optimus seems to be talking to Mom a lot about it. But the people are believing it and they are tweeting about it.

  Only, they aren’t all good tweets. Some of them are mean. Like, really mean.

  Come on, @KingstonRush39. You can do better than a single mom.

  You don’t aim high, do you, @KingstonRush39? A bartender? Really?

  Someone needs to tell @EllieTPB that she can do better than him. Much better.

  I don’t want to read those, but I can’t help it. It makes me mad that they’d talk about my mom and Kingston like that.

  “But what if it does happen? What if Kingston marries your mom?” Gabby squeals. “You’d be so freaking cool. Everyone would love you.” Another squeal. “No matter what, I’m still your best friend. Doesn’t matter who else likes you.”

  I laugh. “Of course you are.” I can’t imagine anyone else being my best friend.

  “What if you get a boyfriend because of this?”

  “That won’t happen.” I think Joseph is cute, but I don’t like him the way Gabby likes some boys.

  “Never say never,” Gabby says, giggling. “This is so freaking cool. Mount Rushmore could be your dad.”

  I think about my Facebook post. It’s only been three days since I posted it, but I haven’t received any messages, and my mom hasn’t mentioned anyone calling her. There are a lot of comments from people I don’t know, and over a hundred shares, but nothing from anyone who might be my dad. I worry that my real dad won’t see it, and I’ll never get to meet him.

  Sure, I like Kingston. He’s cool. He always wants to do things, and he buys me great presents on my birthday and Christmas. But I don’t think it’s the same.

  I really want to meet my dad. I want to see his face when he realizes he has a daughter. I want to see the love shine in his eyes because he finally gets to meet me. And most of all, I want to feel his arms around me when he hugs me for the first time and tells me his life is now complete, the same way mine will be.

  Ellie

  It is abundantly clear that Kingston isn’t going to open up to me tonight. Whether that’s because of what happened at the rink or simply because he doesn’t want to share the details with me, I’m not sure, but I know better than to push for more. At least right now. I have every intention of interrogating him at some point, but he looks as out of sorts as I feel.

  Grabbing my keys from my purse, I hold them out to him, letting them dangle from my fingers while I watch his expression. He’s showing absolutely no emotion and I briefly wonder why that is. I remember Spencer mentioning an issue during a game in Detroit, which is how I found myself in this pretend-girlfriend predicament in the first place, but I didn’t actually ask for specifics at the time. Truth is, I didn’t even think about it. But as soon as that reporter asked if Kingston had ever touched me out of anger, I knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “Sorry about tonight,” Kingston says, reaching out and taking the keys from me.

  “No need to apologize,” I tell him, meaning it. What happened at the arena freaked me out a little, but it isn’t as though I hadn’t known it was coming. The guy is hockey’s equivalent of a rock star. People love him. I get that. I’ll be better prepared going forward. “And congrats on the shutout,” I add with a smile. “One hell of a way to kick off the season.”

  The mischievous smirk tilts the corner of his lips. Evidently the change in subject brought out the ruthless flirt once more.

  “Did you decide what to do about mountain climbing?”

  Yep, and there he is again.

  I roll my eyes, not bothering to answer. The man is relentless.

  “If you ever decide to, I’ll be happy to show you the ropes.” His grin widens. “Pun intended.”

  “Of course you will,” I mutter, trying not to imagine myself actually climbing his big, beautiful body. Heat spears me. Before I can come up with something else, my cell phone rings. Grabbing it from my purse, I hit the talk button. “Hello?”

  “Ell, please tell me you’re at home.”

  I hear the concern in Spencer’s tone. “I’m at home, why?”

  “Where’s Kingston?”

  “Here with me,” I tell my brother. “He brought me and Bianca home.”

  “Thank God. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “The arena was a madhouse. Seemed the hottest topic of the night was how Kingston was hooking up with my sister. No one seemed to give a shit that we had a shutout against last year’s Stanley Cup champions.”

  “Yeah, well…” I peer up at Kingston, who is watching me closely. “I had a few people ask questions, but Kingston got us out of there in one piece.”

  “Cool. Y’all comin’ to the bar?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell him. I need to call Noelle and make sure she’s cool with that. I know she isn’t expecting me tonight, but if things get out of hand, Noelle might end up needing me.

  “I agree. Lemme talk to Rush.”

  I hand the phone to Kingston.

  “’Lo?”

  I can’t hear the other end of the conversation, but I watch Kingston’s face, wondering what my brother is t
elling him. Whatever it is, Kingston’s expression doesn’t change. He looks to be listening intently, but I can only tell that based on the way his eyes dart over to me only once before he looks across the room.

  “Yeah.” Pause. “I need to pick up Ellie’s car. Wanna come give me a ride back to the arena? Or I’ll meet you somewhere?” Pause.

  This time I notice the tic in his jaw and I’ve seen that before. Usually before Mount Rushmore explodes.

  He doesn’t. Explode.

  But he doesn’t look happy, either.

  “Yeah. I’ll bring the keys to you.” Kingston hangs up and hands the phone back to me.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, curious.

  “Spencer’s gonna get your car and bring it back. I’ll take him the keys.”

  Whatever. As long as I get my car back, I don’t really care who brings it to me, though I do have a preference for Kingston at the moment. Clearly I’m losing my mind.

  I shake off the thought.

  “Thanks again for bringing us home,” I tell him. “And thanks for, you know, making my daughter Twitter famous.”

  Something passes over Kingston’s face, but he masks it quickly, gifting me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

  I nod. Remembering he said we needed to discuss how this is going to work out, I consider asking him about it but think better of it.

  Instead, I walk him to the door and watch as he disappears into the night.

  Half an hour later, I’m parked on the couch with a glass of wine and my MacBook. The first thing I do is pull up Twitter and Facebook. Sure enough, I have a crap ton of new followers and friend requests, though I know I won’t know any of them.

  From there, I pull up another browser and type in Kingston’s name and Detroit in the search bar. The first things that show up are quite a few links to various articles that’ve mentioned his name over the years. Because I’ve been an Arrows fan for so long, the ones that are related to previous games I’ve already read, but there are a few more recent ones that catch my eye.

  While I sip my wine, I skim the articles. Eventually my wine is gone, and my eyes have nearly bugged out of my head.