“So, Hannah Draper, huh?” Chris says after a long pause.
I blink at him.
He shifts, his smile turning cocky as he says, “Are you two dating or… justfucking?”
Now he’s trying to get a rise out of me. And it’s working. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as a fire erupts low in my gut.
“With all due respect,Garret,” I practically spit, “that’s not really any ofyourbusiness, now, is it?”
Chris’s smile remains in place, and he quirks a brow. “Maybe not, but a relationship with the head coach’s daughter seems like a serious conflict of interest, and thatismy business.”
“You know what’s an even bigger conflict of interest?” I saywith a goading smile. “The married father of two general manager of an NHL franchise cheating on his pregnant wife with his head coach’s daughter…”
Chris’s smile disappears, the look in his eyes cold as ice as he glares up at me. “I got a call from Utah this morning.”
I blink again, my molars grinding to the point of pain.
“With Kozlowski retiring, they’re on the hunt for a D-man.” Chris looks up to the ceiling, thoughtfully rubbing his chin.
And I’m not an idiot. I know a threat when I hear one. This motherfucker knows my situation, and he’s using it against me. My hands fall to my sides, fists clenching with the need to punch something; Chris’s smug face is looking like a mighty fine target right now. “What the fuck are you getting at, Chris?”
Chris rises slowly, his smirk returning as he refastens the buttons on his jacket. “You’d better hurry,” he says like he’s the boss of me. “Don’t want to be late for warm-ups.”
I stare into his steely eyes for a few beats, biting my tongue as hard as I can before turning. Yanking the door open, I walk out of the room and straight into Dallas Shaw, our goalie one. He steadies me, placing his hands on my shoulders, offering me a leveled look. “Whoa, you good, my guy?”
Meeting his intense gaze, I tamp down my anger. “Yeah, all good.”
Dallas’s eyes lift, his brows dipping as Chris strolls out of the room, nodding at us both, that condescending smirk still remaining as he walks down the corridor with his head held arrogantly high.
“Everything… okay?” Dallas asks, lowering his voice.
I force a smile. “Yep. Gotta get geared up.”
Looking at me like he doesn’t fully believe me, Dallas nods once, letting me go, and I spin around, keeping my head down as I make a beeline directly for the locker room, all the while Chris’s threat lingers like a bad fucking taste in my mouth.
With less than ninety seconds left in the game, we’re up by one as the puck drops. I’m like a stalker, watching it bounce from player to player, guarding the zone while still trying to keep an eye on the Chicago center who is probably one of the best forwards in the league when it comes to quick, high-pressure plays.
Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up.
I’m pushed in the back by the Chicago winger as he skates past to get into position, and my skate blade slips, almost making me fall. The center breaks away, and he strides directly toward me. I skate backward, glancing at the time. Thirty seconds.
He dekes once, then twice, and I anticipate a third because that’s his trademark move, but before I can reach my stick out to steal the puck, he shoots early and it flies past me. I transition, turning to skate for our zone but I lose my edge and slip again, and, as if in slow motion, I watch as Dallas gets down into a butterfly, the puck whipping past him and straight into the back of the net, the buzzer signaling the goal as the Chicago players celebrate to the tune of the home crowd booing. Only I can’t seem to stop myself and, barely missing taking Dallas out, I follow the fucking puck, flying face first into the crease and collecting the crossbar with my face right as the siren sounds off.
And it’s there, as I’m lying face down in the goal, blood pooling on the ice all around me, that I realize something; I’m going to be traded this summer, and there’s fuck all I can do about it.
CHAPTER 10
HANNAH
So, it’s official. Brookes Devereaux is the biggest dickhead I’ve ever encountered, and that’s saying a lot because my dickhead count would have to be one of the highest on record. Not only did he consume way too many beers over the lunch he tricked me into escorting him to by saying he didn’t know the city—funny, because he knew exactly where the closest fucking bar was—he then continued drinking until he got so drunk, when we came back to the studio, he called one of the nicest, and not to mention heavily pregnant, makeup artistschubby, and he was unable to finish his first day of filming due to his inability to string a sentence together without slurring. I then had to escort his sorry ass back to his hotel, where he proceeded to try and shove his tongue down my throat before burping in my face and falling onto the floor of his penthouse suite and passing out. Which is exactly where I left him, and precisely where I hope he wakes up in the morning with a killer hangover.
I missed tonight’s game because of Brookes, and I was planning on heading straight home to decompress, but I’m so pent up, I know I won’t get to sleep without a thorough dicking. And, lucky for me, I know a guy.
As I walk into Ned’s, the team’s post-game haunt, I removemy blazer, scanning the space and finding my friends toward the back, at their usual cluster of high-top tables.
“Hey, girl!” Fran spots me first, offering me a little shimmy from where she sits perched on her stool, holding a glass of wine in the air. Fran’s boyfriend, Thunder D-man, Robbie Mason, stands close behind her in that protective way he always does, one of his tattooed arms wrapped casually around her neck.
“Hey,” I say, leaning in and placing a chaste peck to Fran’s cheek as I look around at everyone, my brows furrowing when I spot Happy sitting hunched over, staring down at the glass of flat-looking beer on the table in front of him, his jaw tense. He looks nothing like his namesake and the farthest thing from his normal carefree-self, and I don’t miss the way it makes my stomach twist in a way I’ve never felt before.Weird. But before I can go over to proposition him, I’m pulled to the side and wrapped in a suffocating hug by Millie.
