“You got her a Louis Vuitton collar with metal spikes on it?”
His brows crease in offense. “Have you met me? Of course, I did.”
“People are going to think she’s intimidating with that on.”
“Good. Let them. We both know she’s sweet, but I’m fine with everyone else thinking she’s a badass.”
I bring my attention back to my plate, muttering under my breath, “You do love giving people the wrong impression, don’t you?”
My eyes dart to his with regret, tension thick in the air between us as we remain silent.
Zanders leans forward, holding my eye contact. “Do you have some more questions? Maybe unrelated to Rosie? Maybe some questions about me? Because I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
I swallow hard as I study his stunning face. His eyes are soft with understanding, and there’s no evidence of judgment or irritation from my previous statement.
“Why do you put on an act? Why don’t you let people see how good you are?”
His eyes avert to his plate. “Well, that’s a big question to start with.”
I cross my legs on my chair and turn it towards him, giving him my full attention. “We have a five-course dinner to get through. We have plenty of time.”
A relaxed smile lifts on Zanders’ lips. He looks back to me, hesitating for a moment before pushing his plate away.
“When I got picked up by Chicago seven years ago, I already had a bit of a reputation from my college days. Chicago was looking for an enforcer, someone to protect the other guys on the ice, and I fit the bill. Then the following year, I kind of ran with that narrative, but it wasn’t until the next season when Maddison got traded, and we ended up signing with the same agent, that things really took off. Rich had this whole idea of setting up this storyline for us. Maddison is the golden boy in hockey. Everyone loves him, and the opposite of that is me—everyone’s favorite player to hate. We bought into the whole thing, and we’ve both made an absolute killing off our little duo. And I’m not going to lie. I fucking loved every minute of it.”
I nod in understanding, knowing how much Zanders loves his reputation.
“Until this year,” he continues. “There was never anyone in my life to be negatively affected by my media persona until now. Until you, and the fact that it’s made you view me differently than who I really am and has you scared, fucking kills me, Stevie. If I could go back seven years ago and change it all from the beginning, I would.”
“Why don’t you change it now?”
He lets out a deep, resigned sigh. “This is who I am in hockey now. I’m in the middle of a resigning season, and this brand I carry is what Chicago wants. They’re not going to pay me without it. At least, that’s what Rich thinks.”
“So, that’s it? It’s all about money?”
Guilt forms on his features. “No, actually, it’s not.”
“Then what is it, Zee?”
He doesn’t answer, his eyes bouncing everywhere but refusing to look at me.
“I’m scared,” he mutters under his breath.
I scoff in disbelief. “You’re not scared of anything.”
His eyes dart to mine, full of honesty. “I’m terrified of a lot of things. You included.”
He takes a long swig of his beer. “I’m afraid that if everyone sees the real me, that maybe they won’t like it. Maybe they won’t love me anymore. Maybe Chicago won’t want me, and this is where my best friends are. I don’t want to play somewhere else. People love the shit-talking asshole who spends a ton of time in the penalty box then gets pictured being a playboy, but are they going to love me if they find out I’d rather talk about Active Minds than who they think I’m fucking? Are they going to still love me when they find out I cry at Disney movies with my niece? Are they going to love me if they find out I can’t stop thinking about my flight attendant who still thinks I’m some piece of shit?”
That causes me to pause. “I don’t think you’re a piece of shit, Zee. I think you’re too good for most people, but you never let anyone see that, and I don’t get why you’d want to hide it. You usually don’t lie, but you lie about what a good man you are? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Because Stevie!” His voice is raised, but he’s not yelling. He’s frustrated beyond belief, but not with me. “I’ve been myself before, and that wasn’t enough. My own fucking mother left me, for Christ’s sake!”