“I guess so.”
Micah exhaled. “That’s—insane.”
“I know,” I snapped, then immediately winced, dragging a hand down my face. “I know. I know, Micah, I know.”
“Hey.” Her voice softened, the edge dropping out of it completely now. “Talk to me. How bad is it?”
I let out a breath that didn’t go anywhere. “They want me with him all the time. As in…everything. Practices. Travel. Public stuff. Just—there. All the time.”
Her expression shifted, something sharper slipping in. “That’s not a job, Bea. That’s babysitting.”
“Tell me about it.”
“And they just—what? Decided that today? Day one, congratulations, here’s your problem child?”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Pretty much.”
Micah leaned closer to the screen, squinting at me like she was trying to read past what I was saying. “Why you?”
“Hell, if I know,” I snapped, then immediately dragged a hand down my face. “I don’t know. Char, new boss said it makes sense. Fresh face, easier to control the narrative?—”
“Screw the narrative. That man just put someone in the hospital last night. And now they want you glued to him?” she pressed. “Bea, that’s not normal.”
“I don’t have a choice,” I said, quieter this time.
Micah went still for half a second, recalibrating. “All right,” she said slowly. “So what—he just shows up and you follow him around? That’s the plan?”
I hesitated.
Her eyes narrowed immediately. “Oh no. There’s more, isn’t there?”
I exhaled, my chest tight. “I am not officially dating Alois Reinhardt Müller.”
“You,” she pointed at the screen, like she could physically reach through it, “are dating a six-foot-something professional hockey player who just got arrested.”
“Yes.”
“And it’s your job.”
“Yes.”
Micah blinked at me. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
She leaned back slowly, like she needed physical distance from the idea. “No. No, that’s—” She let out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s not real. That’s not a real thing that happens.”
“It is apparently a real thing that is happening to me.”
“Bea,” she whispered, leaning forward again. “You don’t know him. He’s—” She stopped, pressing her lips together, recalibrating again. “He’s not safe.”
That one hit. I couldn’t respond. My throat went dry. Nerves completely shot.
“I don’t mean like—” she added quickly, softer now. “I just mean…he’s unpredictable. You saw it.”
“I didn’t see it,” I said quietly. “I’m in it.”
“Bea—” she dragged a hand through her hair, shaking her head. “When does this start?”