I look up, staring at him incredulously. “Of course I fucking love him! Was the part where I threw myself in front of a truck for him not a big enough clue?”
Rinne barks out a laugh. “Easy, tiger. I was just asking.”
“I love him so much it scares the shit out of me sometimes. He's a fucking chaotic hurricane. Blows into my life and just . . . upends everything. But I can't imagine my world without him in it anymore.”
“For what it's worth, I think you’re good for each other. But I gotta admit, I’m not sure how you deal with his . . . eccentricities. Not sure I can take all that obsessive bullshit myself.”
While Rinne may be my friend, I want to slam my fist into his nose. “That obsessive personality makes him who he is. I thought you of all people would’ve noticed. He’s a once in a generation goalie. Fucking amazing. But rough around the edges.”
Rinne listens, face scrunching as if trying to fit the pieces together.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen that same obsessiveness applied to his training to chasing after perfection as a goalie.”
My friend’s brows raise high, mouth opening. “Fuck. Never thought of it that way.”
“He’s got a near perfect GPA in goddamn Chemical and Molecular Engineering.” I can’t stop the proud smile that spreads. My brat isn't just only brilliant in net, he’s motherfucking brilliant.
“I get it. But what makes him great in certain areas of life, doesn’t work for relationships.”
My lips press into thin a line, nostrils flaring. “He’s mine and it works for us. Talk shit some more and you’ll be going home with a fat lip.”
Rinne chuckles, but it dies quickly. “In all seriousness, though—how do you think he’s gonna take the news? About you getting fired? You know he’s going to retaliate somehow.”
Understatement of the fucking century.
We sit there for a while, just talking, more Rinne listening as I vent. Eventually, he heaves himself out of the chair. “Gotta get home, but let me see what I can do to help. I’m sure I can get something out of Reed.”
“Thanks.”
He waves over his shoulder and then the door clicks shut softly behind him.
Snagging my phone off the cushion, I dial Viktor for the hundredth fucking time. It goes straight to voicemail.
Again.
“Listen, you stubborn chaotic shit. Call me back or get your ass to my apartment within the hour or I swear to God, Viktor, I will bend you over my knee and spank you center ice in front of the entire team.”
I hit end too quickly, realizing after the fact who I just left that message for.
If anything, my demon brat won’t be calling me back because I just threatened him with a good time.
Fuck my life.
Chapter 21
Viktor
Sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of President Ghoram’s desk, I pick at a loose thread on my designer jeans. When the door opens, I glance up, a smirk tugging at my lips as my mother strides in like she owns the place. Her Louboutins click on the hardwood, her gray suit perfectly tailored.
She perches her sunglasses atop her sleek updo, shooting a razor-sharp smile at my head coach. “It's been a long time, Coach Nieminen. Almost didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”
Wait, what?
My head whips around so fast I nearly give myself whiplash, my gaze bouncing between her and Coach like I'm watching atennis match. When did she see him naked? Unless . . . No fucking way!
I burst out laughing, doubling over in my chair. Rinne, who’s standing next to me, scrunches his face up like a confused pug.
“Seems the Titans’ coaches enjoy sticking it to my children,” Mom says as she slides into the seat next to me.
