“What do you want?” I ground the words out, my jaw locked tight, my body ready to explode.
The corner of his lips curved into a smirk. “What I’ve always wanted. For you to be my wife.” He took a step toward me, and I didn’t move. “I know this is a shock, but you’ll see. This is for the best. You have three weeks until the rehearsal dinner. If you don’t show up, I’ll have my answer and I’ll do what I must.”
He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek. “I love you, Franny. Don’t forget that.”
I watched him walk away, the sound of his footsteps growing distant. The door slammed behind him, and for a long time, I didn’t move.
I stayed there, my body slowly thawing, inch by inch, vertebrae by vertebrae. And in that moment, for the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do next.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TEDDY
"You’re doing it wrong.” Shai's voice cut through the tension in the room, her tiny frame brimming with authority. "All of you are doing it wrong.”
Most of the team had crammed into my living room for one last run-through of tonight's dance routine before the big game. We'd shoved furniture aside, forming tight lines across the floor.
The routine was more intricate than our usual fare.
Shai turned away from us, hands on her hips. “Do what I do. Step, step, crossover, spin, then adjust your formation.”
We attempted the steps again, but Julian crashed into me as we veered in opposite directions. Frustration overtook the morning's euphoria I'd felt since slipping out of bed, leaving Frankie still sleeping.
Shai sighed. “Well, that might have to do. Your fans aren't expecting professional dancers. They just want to see you make fools of yourselves.”
A few protests erupted from the team, but I simply sighed. Maybe Shai was right. Ever since Sydney left for the NHL, Shai had taken on the role of our unofficial dance coach. She lacked my sister's formal training but made up for it in sheer determination.
And a sharp tongue."Honesty,"she'd claim.
“I've already sent the music track to Bailey in the booth. Remember, I'll be out on the ice filming you this time. Try not to plow me over.” She gathered her wild red curls into a messy bun with a hairband from her wrist. “Class dismissed. I need a drink. Rowan, you got any vodka?”
“It's ten in the morning,” I protested, eyeing her incredulously.
“So?” Shai shot back, locking eyes with me.
I blinked.
Rowan chuckled, slapping me on the shoulder. “She's just messing with you, man. You really can't tell?”
Shai grinned mischievously, and I couldn't help but wonder what else she might know.
“I've got a lot on my mind,” I muttered, turning toward the kitchen. Several teammates were already raiding the fridge, a reminder that with this team, there were boundaries.
Except, now, I did. A massive, terrifying secret that could never, under any circumstances, see the light of day. A smile slowly curved across my lips as I twisted the cap off a bottle of water and took a long sip.
“And just where the hell were you last night?” Ryder asked, his voice rising as he approached from behind. Without hesitation, he grabbed the bottle from my hand and drained it in two swift gulps before tossing it into the recycling bin.
“Nowhere,” I muttered, avoiding his gaze. Ryder and I had known each other since we were kids, back when our biggest dream was just to stay upright on our skates, let alone play professional hockey. We’d shared everything over the years, and he had this uncanny ability to read me like no one else could.
“Mmhmm.” He reached into the fridge for another bottle, cracking it open and taking a sip, eyeing me closely all the while.
“I slept with Coach.” The words spilled out in a jumbled mess, and I barely had time to process what I’d said before a spray of water hit my face. Gross.
“Thanks for the spit, bro,” I grumbled, wiping my cheek as Ryder started coughing violently. I grabbed the bottle from his hand, patting him on the back with one arm.
“Need…” He wheezed, struggling for breath. “A minute.”
Most of the other guys filed out into the living room until it was just me and Ryder. He finally got his breathing under control, his chest heaving with each exhale. He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “I’m going to assume you mean Frankie and not Griff. Or my brother.”
