My mouth fell open.
“No shit,” Nixon murmured, leaning forward. “Did you know about this?”
“No.” That had been the phone call. It had to have been. He wasn’t playing for the Reapers, he was coaching.
Gage took the podium in a suit and tie. Bailey and the kids stood behind him.
It struck me right in the heart. Next year, I’d be going against the man I’d idolized.
“Turn it off.”
Nixon pushed a button and the screen went black. “I don’t blame you. I can’t believe that fucking prick.”
Weariness pushed in, and I knew I’d be asleep in moments. At least I’d lasted longer this time.
“Gage?” I clarified.
“No, Silas. That dick knows more about your brain than you do, now,” Nixon growled, taking the ice from my hands. Guess I must have looked just as wiped out as I felt.
“What?” I asked, trying my hardest to stay awake.
His gaze shot to meet mine. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” I snapped, or at least tried to. It came out more like a drunken slur.
“Damn. The guy showed up yesterday and took the inserts and sensors from your helmet, calling it proprietary. Asked about you, too, no doubt to make sure it had done its job. He’s the investor for Harper’s lab. He wanted a new line of protective gear for his team, and offered the lab to the best prototype. She’s going to design and head up the entire line for Silas.”
Okay, now my heart fucking hurt. He couldn’t mean what I thought he did. There was no way I’d risked it all for her, for that helmet just to have it go to support a rival team. To become a cog in the billion-dollar Asher Silas machine. To only benefit Reaper players.
It was meant for so much more.
“She wouldn’t,” I whispered as my vision went blurry.
“Shit,” Nixon swore softly. “Nathan, I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. She played crash test dummy with your skull for the Reapers.”
She’d used me.
“My. Phone.” The words felt like they took forever to say.
“Here.” Nixon pressed it into my hand.
I forced my eyes open to open the device. I had over twenty text messages and a dozen missed calls.
None of them were Harper.
I gave up the battle and went the fuck to sleep.
Chapter 20
Harper
“In another matter entirely,” Paulson, the owner of the Sharks said from his seat at the press conference. “That has nothing to do with the Carolina Reapers or the new coach announcement, but has to do with the status of Nathan Noble’s contract. I regret to inform you all that we have come to the decision to terminate his contract due to the use of experimental equipment without authority—”
I hit pause, the flatscreen freezing on Paulson, and set the remote down on the metal table where I now sat. In my lab.
Three days.
Three horrid, miserable days.
Thanks to Lukas, I knew that Nathan was awake and doing remarkably well for someone who’d suffered such an intense hit and concussion. But that’s all I knew. Because every time I—
“You are so predictable,” Asher’s voice sounded from my door but I was too numb to jump. Too numb to care that he’d found me. “First hiding place is always the lab.”
He was right. I should’ve been in my hotel room. Crying my eyes out like a normal person. Instead, I’d practically lived in this lab these last three days. Going over every scrap of research I could, to see where I’d gone wrong.
“You look like death,” he said, taking a seat next to me.
I had no doubt he was right. I hadn’t showered. Hadn’t slept more than an hour at a time. Hadn’t stopped looking at my phone every fourteen seconds with hope. Because I’d told Nixon—the third time I’d tried to see Nathan—to let Nathan decide if he wanted to see me or not. To have him text or call me.
He hadn’t.
Crushing what little slivers of hope I had left.
“Harper,” Asher chided. “You can’t hide here forever.”
I glanced at him, my eyes sweeping over the cut of his suit, the clean-shaven strength in his jaw. He looked like a million dollars. Or two, but I’d expect no less of my brother. Even on his days off he was in a suit, it seemed.
“You love him,” he said, the words strained and pinched like he’d never said them before and wasn’t quite sure how to work his mouth around them.
I nodded. And loving him had nearly killed him.
“You can’t…” Asher shifted on the stool, clearly uncomfortable. “Damn it to hell, Harper. Please don’t do this to yourself. You’re stronger than this.”
I snapped my eyes to his. “What do you want from me, Asher?” I flung my hands before letting them smack on my thighs. “You want me to get cleaned up, pick up my feet, and dive back into my work? You want me to pretend like watching Nathan hit the ice, then be loaded onto a stretcher wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced? Want me to brush it all off because I have a big brain and duties to fulfill?” Tears were back in my eyes but I didn’t even care.