Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Rowan

"Absolutely not," I said, typing it into the team group chat with my thumb so hard I almost cracked the screen. "Count me out. Not doing the Winter Charity Gala this year. Not happening."

I was sitting on the bench in the treatment room with my shoulder still throbbing from the exercises Maeve had put me through, and the sponsors had just announced the gala in the chat, and every guy on the team was sending crying emojis because attendance was mandatory. I'd skipped it last year and the year before that, and I was planning to skip it again, because standing around in a suit smiling for cameras with people who only cared about my stats was my idea of a nightmare.

Gordon Pike was in the doorway about four minutes later with his phone in his fist and his face already going red the way it always did when I made his life harder.

"You're going, Ashcroft," he said. "It's mandatory for the captain. The sponsors are paying serious money for the team to show up and look good, and you're the face they paid for."

"I'm not smiling for cameras with people who only care about my numbers."

"Then you'll pay the fines yourself, and they're big ones, thousands, and the team won't cover them this time." He jabbed his phone at me. "Don't make me bench you over a party, son. Make the right call."

We went back and forth like that in the treatment room until he got tired of yelling and stomped off down the hall, and I sat there rubbing my shoulder and thinking hard, and the whole time I was thinking, I was looking at Maeve. She was putting supplies away with her back to me, pretending she hadn't heard a word, and she looked tired and stubborn and strong all at once, the way she'd looked since the minute she walked into that lodge soaking wet. She'd been on my mind nonstop since then, and I wanted her at that gala with me so badly it was stupid. I also knew she'd say no before I finished the sentence, because after what Zayne did, why would she ever trust another Ashcroft, especially one who'd just embarrassed her in front of the whole team on her first day?

"Maeve," I said. "Come to the gala with me. Not as anything. As the team's medical representative. Professional. Please."

She turned around slowly and looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Are you serious right now? You told thirty men I'm only yours yesterday. Half the staff thinks I'm sleeping with you. The other interns stopped talking to me this morning, Rowan. And now you want me to walk into a room full of cameras on your arm?"

"Not on my arm. Standing near me. Holding a first aid kit if it makes you feel better."

"No. Absolutely not. People will assume things, and I've had enough people assuming things about me this week to last my whole life."

I tried again at lunch, in the break room, while she ate a sandwich standing up by the window like she was ready to run. I told her it was one night, that it was medical rep only, that I trusted her more than anyone on the team because she was the only one who didn't treat me like I was made of glass. She told me I was pushing really hard for somebody who claimed this was professional. I tried again the next morning in the hallway before practice, and told her about Pike's fines, and told her I really didn't want to go alone, and she stared at me for a long time with her arms crossed before she finally sighed like I'd worn her down to nothing.

"Fine," she said. "I'll go. Reluctantly. As medical rep only, and if you do anything weird, I'm calling a cab and leaving."

The night of the gala, I picked her up in a black car, and my nerves were worse than they'd ever been before a playoff game. She came out of her building in a simple black dress that fit her curves in a way that made it very hard to remember the word professional, and I kept my hands on my knees the whole drive and tried to keep it light, asking if she was ready for the circus, and she said she was as ready as she'd ever be while she smoothed her dress down with both hands like she wanted to disappear into it.

The photographers swarmed us the second we stepped out of the car. Flashes went off from every direction until I couldn't see, and somebody from the press shouted over the noise, "Captain Rowan! Is this your girlfriend?"

Maeve answered fast and firm before I could even open my mouth. "No, I'm the team's medical representative. That's all. Nothing more than that."

And then I looked up at the entrance, and there was Zayne, standing at the top of the steps in a perfect black suit with Mia on his arm in silver, both of them smiling like they owned the whole night. Mia saw her sister and leaned in to say something in Zayne's ear, and he laughed, and they both looked down at Maeve standing there in her plain black dress next to me, and something inside me snapped clean in half.

I wrapped my arm around Maeve's waist and pulled her against my side. She was warm and stiff with surprise, and she fit there like she'd been made for it.

"Actually," I said to the cameras, calm and clear so every one of them could hear it, "she's being modest. She is my girlfriend."

The flashbulbs exploded around us so bright the whole night went white. Maeve turned her face up toward mine, and her eyes were huge, and she said my name under her breath in a voice that was half a warning and half a question. At the top of the steps, Zayne's smile was gone, and he was already coming down toward us with Mia stumbling to keep up behind him, his eyes locked on my hand on Maeve's waist like he wanted to tear it off.