Zach’s hands are just under the bar, ready to help if needed. “Thought Henneman was going to kill your father.”
“Me too.” After the eighth rep, I rerack the bar and switch places with Zach. “Thanks for grabbing my stuff.”
He lies back but looks up, the corner of his mouth curled up. “Reed said Henneman threw you over his shoulder.”
“Want me to drop the bar on you?”
“My little scorpion will slit your throat if you do.” Zach's tone is flat, matter-of-fact.
I snort, then focus on spotting him as he completes his reps. I’d left all my stuff at the rink that night, phone included. Didn’t get Jackson’s texts until the next day.
Fucking entire Serpents team saw Ryan carrying me like a sack of potatoes. Jackson even took a picture and sent it to our group chat.
None of them have cracked a joke about it yet. I know they’re being cautious because of what my father did. I fucking hate it.
But I do need to reach out to Jackson.
He’d mentioned someone watching me. The description fits Blake. I wouldn’t be surprised if my father had his head of security stalking me.
My jaw clenches. If that motherfucker is following Ryan, he’s dead.
Zach finishes his last rep, then sits up. “What did Harper want earlier?”
I huff, wanting this conversation over with. “Asked if I wanted to press charges against my father.”
“And?”
“I told him to fuck off. The cops won’t do anything. My father owns them. So, it’ll just piss him off more.”
Plus, Patrick Callahan’s new deal was announced in the papers yesterday, along with Veronica’s engagement. My father must be losing his shit.
Zach grunts and shakes his head as we switch places again. “No need to be married anymore.”
Straight to the point, likealways.
My grip falters, but Zach pushes up on the bar, helping me raise it. “I need to give it some time. Let my father cool off a bit.”
My friend doesn’t say anything.
Also, now’s not the time to bring up getting divorced again, not after what Ryan shared. He’d think I’m filing because of what happened to him.
My fingers tighten around the knurling, as if I’m trying to strangle the goddamn bar. I need to focus on something else, anything other than ripping the throats out of faceless men.
Men I will put in the ground once this shit with my family is over.
Zach and I move to the dumbbells, having finished chest presses. I grab a pair and find an empty bench. “Can’t believe you fucks didn’t tell me about Reed.”
“Reed wanted to surprise us.” He sits on a bench beside me. “But Blackwell got drunk and told us.” He huffs a laugh. “You can guess how that ended.”
I shake my head. “Who won?”
“Fuck if I know. Not that it matters to them.” He takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “Buckland really fucked Reed up.”
“Is that why he didn’t go to Winnipeg? Thought maybe it had something to do with Blackwell.”
Killian Blackwell would be the type to get all emotional about being too far away from his boyfriend. So, I figured if either of them was going to give up their shot at playing in the NHL, it would’ve been him.
Zach stares at me, his gaze intense, eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s good he found something else, but none of us are happy with why he made the decision. Not even Blackwell.”
