Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
We were so close, I moved to be near him once the Wolves drafted him.
“No. He hasn’t done anything horrible.” Another head shake. “But do me a favor and stay away from him, though?”
My stomach drops. “Not unless you tell me why.”
“I can’t.” His gaze drifts back down the hall. He checks his watch and pushes off the wall of my cubicle, giving it a tap. “I have to get going. Have to be on the ice in half an hour, and I’ll probably be late.”
Then he’s gone, his warning ringing in my ears. Do me a favor and stay away from him.
Too late for that.
Guilt floods the pit of my stomach but also: Why should I feel bad? I’m a grown woman. I make my own choices. What could Aaron have done to make Declan warn me off? Why is my brother acting shady?
Five minutes later, I have yet to log into the company network.
Ten minutes after that, I’ve done nothing but research the team’s appearance schedule.
Thirty minutes in, I’m out of my office and backtracking down the corridor, walking over the sleek marble floors toward the practice rink, folding my arms around my body when I open the ice center’s doors.
It’s loud.
Voices boom as if they’re in an echo chamber. Pucks cracking against boards. Skates carving the ice. Players grunting and talking over one another as the coaches shout out drills.
I hover near the entrance, doing my best to remain unnoticed.
I spot Declan immediately.
Then I see Aaron, looking delicious in pads and a practice jersey stretched taut across his shoulders, eyes homed in on him. He chooses that moment to chase an errant puck, slamming into the boards close to my brother. Hard.
As if he’s done it on purpose…
No sooner do I flatten myself against the wall to become invisible than Declan shoves him out of his personal space, and I watch as words are exchanged—not friendly ones—and Aaron says something that makes my brother stiffen, sticking his gloved hand in Declan’s face.
I wish I knew what they were saying.
Declan shoves him again, harder this time, glove to Aaron’s chest. Their foreheads nearly touch through helmet and visor, bodies tense and tight, one second from becoming a full-blown brawl.
My heart lodges in my throat.
Is this my fault?
A whistle blares.
Everyone stops.
“What is going on with those two?” I whisper, pressing my back against the cold, cinder block wall, my wide eyes glued to the scene on the ice. The spell is broken when a pair of dark brown eyes meet mine, startling me.
Coach is barking about getting their asses on the bench, but Aaron stands there, chest rising hard beneath those stupid, perfect, sexy pads.
Staring at me.
FOUR
AARON
Practice ends the way it always does, with my lungs on fire and a violent craving for the cold plunge bath.
Except for the small detail where I nearly introduced Kennedy’s face to the boards and wanted to make him bleed…
Yeah.
That.
The locker room is quiet for once, not filled with the usual post-practice trash talk. No music, no one arguing over whose body odor smells the worst. Nothing but a shit ton of sidelong glances of my teammates pretending not to watch us.
Everyone is staying out of our way. As if any sudden movements might detonate me like a bomb.
I drop onto the bench and start stripping off my gear.
Shake off my gloves.
Helmet.
No one says a word.
The snake stands two lockers down, towel slung low on his hips, grinning at a defenseman like he wasn’t caught fucking my girlfriend over the weekend and we almost got into a fight.
Huh. Must be nice not to give a shit.
Wonder what that’s like.
But now, he’s only a few feet away, bare chested, bare feet, devil-may-care attitude, crowding me.
My body goes rigid.
His mouth moves.
“Whatever you’re about to say, you can save it,” I start, cutting him off before he can begin apologizing, focused on peeling off the kinesiology tape on my bicep. But he doesn’t back away, doesn’t leave me the fuck alone, doesn’t go crawling back into his hole.
Declan Kennedy cannot take a fucking hint.
“I’m not here to apologize—I know it wouldn’t matter.”
My eyes finally snap to his face. Then what the hell do you want?
“Good.” I roll my eyes. “It would have been awkward watching you pretend you suddenly grew a conscience.”
His jaw tightens. “You don’t get to continue being an assho—”
“I get to continue doing whatever the fuck I want,” I cut in again, enjoying the expression on his face. His flared nostrils. “You lost the right to police my personality when you started sleeping with Bailey.”
He glances around to make sure none of our teammates overheard me.
Declan straightens his spine. “This isn’t about us.”
“Oh?”
“No,” he says. “This is about my sister.”
“Your sister?” I repeat. “What about her?”
His eyes narrow slightly, measuring me. “You know exactly what.”