The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 22

After getting back to the apartment, I’d barely set down my things before my phone began to ring. | groaned, not having the patience for any human interaction. It didn’t help that the plane ride home had left me exhausted.

With a sigh, | grabbed it from out of my bag. | barely registered the name on the screen before | thoughtlessly picked up the call. “Hello?” | said, dropping my keys on the counter. | hurried over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “This is Evie.”

“Hi, Evie,” Timothy's voice came through and | nearly dropped the bottle of fruit juice | had grabbed.

| placed the container on the counter and cleared my throat. “Timothy. Hi.”

“Sorry, this is sudden. Considering | just saw you,” he said with a laugh. “I was wondering if you had time this week to discuss the case a bit further?”

“Of course.” | grabbed a glass from the pantry and filled it up with the juice. “Just give me a time, and I'll likely be free.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Tonight at four sound good? At the firm?”

“Sounds perfect.” | took a sip of my juice and cringed at how squeaky my voice had sounded.

“Great,” he said, then there was a pause. It seemed neither of us was ready to hang up, at least immediately.

Finally, | spoke up, taking advantage of the silence. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Hm?”

“For yesterday. With my panic attack...you helped a lot.”

| couldn't see his face, but | could envision the smile that he had grown just based on his tone. “It was no problem,” he said gently.

My grip tightened on my phone and | pressed it closer to my ear. “I'll talk to you later.” 115

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13:03 Wed, 20 Mar S

“Have a good rest of your day,” he told me.

After ending the call, | slumped down onto the kitchen floor and pulled my knees. to my chin. | had just taken my anxiety pills, but talking to Timothy made all their effects useless.Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

Suddenly, my phone went off again and another text from Bruce flashed across the screen. | opened the text up and saw the full sentence on display.

You can’t ignore me, Coco. I’m playing nice for now, but don’t step my limits.

My body went cold as those pixelated words sat on my screen. There had been several others he sent before that. One of them had come in during my call with Timothy.

You look lovely today, Coco. Should | start calling you? I’m not into making calls, bad reception and all, but it'd be nice to hear you... Answer me, Coco. I’m not playing.

My thumbs were poised over the screen. Part of me wanted to respond and tell him to back off, but the other saw an even worse reaction from him if | reacted

that way.

| shut the phone off and clutched it to my chest, steadying my breaths as they grew shallower. Even from afar, Bruce managed to make me feel disgusted with myself. Wherever he was, darkness followed in his wake.

He wanted to consume me, with every twisted fiber of his being.

As | went to delete the text, there was a harsh knock at my door. The sound alone. made me jump and drop my cellphone. It seemed far-fetched, but | had my suspicions that his threat hadn’t been empty after all.

| crawled across the kitchen floor and opened the bottom pantries, then pulled out one of the thin skillets. Slowly, | hauled myself up and made my way over to the front door. | took a quick peek through the peep hole, but it wasn’t Bruce on the other side.

| hid the skillet behind me and opened the door, surprising the man on the other side. There was barely any time-to address him and the other people emerging

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onto my porch before being blinded by a bright flash.

“What the-” | shielded my eyes and stumbled backward, barely catching myself on the wall. It takes a few blinks before the man is clear again, this time with a whole crowd of people standing behind him. My jaw dropped.

“Are you Evie?” the man asked, scratching the stubble under his chin. He had a camera dangling from his neck and a notebook tucked under his arm. “We received a tip about an Evie living here.”

“Why an ‘Evie‘ specifically?” | asked.

“Well, it's the woman Timothy apologized to. We've been looking around trying to find her, but some guy was generous enough to clue us in,” the guy explained.

“What? How?” | could feel my head starting to spin, having all those eyes watching me from my doorstep. Hesitantly, | stepped forward and looked at the display behind him.

There were tents set up on the grass and blankets strewn about. They had even set up a small campfire where two reporters were roasting marshmallows. | gawked at the sight.

“Are you camping here?” | snapped.

The man shrugged. “Just for now. We want to know all about you, Evie. There’s not way that other news station’s going to get the scoop before we do!” He lifted his camera and snapped another picture, then grinned at me.

“You people can’t be serious!” | cried out. “Go away!” “Come on!” The man leaned toward me, his camera now trained on my face like. an invasive eye. “Show us that beautiful smile!”

| slammed the door in his face before he could get any closer, then locked the door. for security. | knew the press was fierce when it came to a good story, but this was next level in terms of desperation. How would | even explain that to Aria?

Hours passed with me walking around the apartment, trying to find something to do with myself. Any distraction was welcome, whether it was cleaning or folding laundry. The time eventually came for me to head over to the firm, which did little to ease my worries.

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“It's just a business meeting. Nothing more,” | told myself, preparing to brave the strangers still lurking outside my door. | looked through the peep hole and saw them still sitting around, chugging down some drinks.

Before | stepped out, | got a message from Timothy saying that he was already at the office and that he’d meet me there. With trembling thumbs, | typed back a lukewarm response saying that I’d be right there, though | had spent a good chunk of time convincing myself to do so.

Deciding to brave the crowd, | pushed through the front door and rushed to the parking lot. It took the reporters a good minute to gather their things and chase. me the rest of the way, screeching my name.

| managed to lock myself in my car before they could reach me. As | drove away, could hear the squeak of their palms against my windows, as if they’d attempted to stop me just from human strength alone.

When | got to the firm, it seemed like a relatively calm evening. Office doors were closed and the few lingering in the halls engaging in light conversations with one. another. | spotted Jasper a few feet away standing beside a man I'd never seen, presumably a client, as he cracked a joke.

| tried not to roll my eyes as | continued down the hall and took a turn toward the conference room. The subtle sound of laughter filtered through the door and | furrowed my eyebrows.

When | entered the room, | was taken aback by the presence of another

presence of another person at the head of the table. A woman | had never seen before was seated across from Timothy, her demeanor exuding an air of authority. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and her sharp eyes were fixed on me as | entered.

“Evie,” Timothy said, rising from his seat. “I’m glad you made it.”

| smiled at him, though my eyes couldn't resist drifting over to the woman beside him. Her cat—like eyes traced over me, almost scrutinizingly, as she stood up as well.

“We've never met, but it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Sinclair,” she said, already answering my thoughts. She extended a manicured hand in my direction and flashed me with a bright smile.

“Linda Turner,” she said, and | took her hand hesitantly. “I will be helping you with 475

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Timothy's case.”