Page 35 of Let Me Love You

“What article?” I demand again.

We make it to the locker room, but Colt doesn’t answer me as he unlaces his skates.

“What. Article?” I repeat.

“I didn’t see the article,” he grits out.

“But you know what it’s about?”

He scrubs his hand over his face, the last of his fight draining out of him. “Eleanor texted a few days ago. Said she has a kid, and I’m the father.”

“Eleanor, as in”—I hesitate, my mind reeling—“the Dixie Tech professor’s wife you slept with?”

His head jerks with a single nod.

Fuck.

I pace back and forth in front of him, hooking my hands behind my head as I stare at the ceiling.

But seriously.Fuck.

This isn’t good.

“So the rumors are true?” I press. “The shit they were saying on the ice last season?”

“I dunno.” He digs in his locker, pulls his phone out, and types his name into the search engine. He’s looking for the article Logan mentioned on the ice. I don’t blame him. I’d wanna know what I was dealing with too.

“It’s not like I’ve done a paternity test or anything,” he mutters. “I thought Eleanor was being greedy or something, coming after me since she’s finalized her divorce and knows I signed with the Lions.”

“It could be true,” I offer.

“Yeah.” His head hangs. “Could be.”

“You don’t think it is?” I prod.

“She’s not a greedy person. Or at least, she didn’t seem like one. She was…lonely.Fuck,” he seethes, his gaze glued to his cell.

“What is it?”

Without a word, he hands me his phone. An article lights up the screen.

As I scan the paragraphs, my stomach falls.

This is bad.

Really bad.

And if any of it’s true…

“Has Ash seen this?” I ask.

With a new sense of urgency, Colt shoves his skates into his gym bag and puts his Nikes on. “Fuck.”

He grabs his phone from my grasp and runs out of the locker room toward the parking lot without a backward glance.

A familiar ring echoes off the walls, and I dig into my locker for my own phone. A picture of Blake kissing my cheek lights up the screen, and I answer it.

“Hey—”