“Really, Genevieve. I don’t know why you’re acting like this. White Flame has invested so much in this tour. It’s what you wanted. They even said they’d try to accommodate any cities you’d like to include.”
“I’m not ready! I was planning for March. January is too soon.”
“It’s a month from now.”
“That’s hardly any time. And the new song? It’s so lame, Mom. I just… can’t.” I hear the tears choking her voice, and my heart constricts in my chest. Surely her own parents can see how injured she is. How desperate she is for one person to see her. To just shut up and listen.
“What has gotten into you? A week ago you were fine. Now all of a sudden you’re contrary and unfocused. You’re lucky White Flame didn’t drop us today after your silliness.”
I stiffen, my fist clenching at my side as I move into view. The older woman notices me first, her eyes widening in shock, then suspicion.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my daughter’s house?” the woman snaps.
Genevieve spins back, and I bristle at the tears in her eyes and blotches on her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
“I could ask you the same question. Who’s this, Genevieve? Is this why you’ve been acting so weird lately?”
“He’s just a friend, Mom. This is Oliver,” she mumbles, shrinking as she says it. Oh hell no.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Fox,” I say, moving forward with an extended hand. “Your daughter is an amazing woman.”
I’m almost surprised when she takes my hand, giving it a swift, perfunctory tug before letting go with a clear scowl.
“Yes. She is. With a lot of responsibilities and commitments.” Her eyes bore into me, dimming with a strange coldness. “You look familiar.”
“Genevieve and I met last week at the meet-and-greet at my training facility.”
Her cold look shifts into shock, then horror. It’s kind of funny, actually. I could have said I was a convict she met at a charitable prison event and probably gotten the same reaction. “You’re the hockey player! The injured one she had to help up when he fell.”
My jaw tightens at the description, but I force a nod. “Yes. I’m better known as the Trojan’s starting goalie.”
“Well, not at the moment, are you?” she quips, and steam builds in my chest.
“Mom!” Genevieve says, casting her mother a pleading look. She sends one to me next, but I have zero patience for bullies like her mother. Genevieve clearly feared what’s about to go down when she asked me to wait upstairs, but as long as this woman continues to treat her daughter and other people like garbage, it’s going down.
“Nice of you to follow my career, ma’am. You’ll be pleased to know that I’m working very hard to come back as soon as possible. By all accounts, I’ll be better than ever when I do.”
“Well, good luck,” she tosses flippantly, brushing me off with a dramatic sip from her water bottle.
“I don’t need luck. I’m working my ass off to get back on the ice and go after what I want.”
She glances back at me, clearly not accustomed to being challenged. “As does my daughter. And please watch your language around us.”
I glare at her. “Does she? Or is she working her ass off for what you and everyone else wants? Do you even know what she wants?”
Shit. Probably shouldn’t have gone there right out of the gate. I just have zero filter when it comes to protecting those I care about. Or when dealing with tyrants like her mother.
Both women stare at me in shock for a moment. Even Hadley, who’d been watching quietly from the sideline, cringes and gives me a subtle warning look.
“What’s he talking about, Genevieve?” the woman asks her daughter.
I hold my breath, half wanting to retract my statement and half grateful I let it slip. I gave her an out. Will she take it?
My heart beats wildly in the silence, willing her to accept the pain and go after happiness. It’s right there, waiting for her to reach out and grasp it. One step. Then another. Then another. Slow and painful at first, but I’ll be right behind her, supporting her through the agony of the journey so she can touch the glory of the prize. Hope sinks with each silent second she doesn’t respond.
“Are we forcing you into a life you don’t want, Gen?” the woman continues when Genevieve doesn’t. “You don’t want to be one of the biggest names in the industry? You don’t want top records and millions of fans all over the world? You don’t want this beautiful mansion, access to the best of the best, and invitations to join the nation’s elite? Did we make a mistake giving all of this to you?”
The woman waves her hand around her, and I have to clench mine at my side. A biting retort rises in my throat, but when I cast a look at Genevieve’s anguished expression, I swallow it back. Maybe I’ve done enough damage for one day. Still, how can she not see what’s right in front of her? How deep do their manipulative hooks run? She might be afraid of her parents and the corporate monster that created her, but I’m not. They better prepare for battle because it’s on.
“No, of course not,” Genevieve says finally, so quiet we have to lean forward to hear her. “I love my life. I’m very blessed to have all of that.”
Her mother releases a sigh and squeezes her daughter’s arm with a smug look.
I stare at Genevieve in disbelief, nearly shaking from the effort of suppressing my anger. Is she fucking serious? She loves her life? What about