She snorts, sharp and humorless. “He’ll never let this go. He said you’ve been a playboy since the day he met you.”
Since the day he met me?That stops me in my tracks.
“Who the hell is your brother?”
“You don’t know my brother? You’re quite close.”
“Close? Does he work here?”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “It’s Marcus.”
A warning bell rings in my head. “Marcus who?”
Her expression shifts from conflict to resignation. Her shoulders slump and she steps back, looking away.
“Marcus Chandler. He’s my brother.”
The words hit like a slapshot to the gut.
Marcus Chandler is her brother.
My best friend. The guy who has been my teammate for five years. The one who trusts me with his life on the ice but has explicitly told me to stay away from his sister while always keeping details about her vague.
The brilliant little sister who he said was ‘busy with school’ and ‘focused on her doctorate.’ The one he guards like she’s made of glass and I’m a sledgehammer.
Of course, Ivy is Marcus’s sister. Now that she’s mentioned it, I can see the resemblance. It’s subtle, but it’s there. They have the same dark hair, eyes, and nose. The shapes of their faces are similar.
But I never suspected because the surname is common. The annoying Marcus avoids the media and doesn’t even have a social media presence, or I’d know the faces of all his family members by now.
My hand drops from her waist. I take a step back, needing distance to process this catastrophic revelation.
“Chandler.” The name tastes bitter. “Why didn’t you say something before?”
She crosses her arms, eyes narrowing. “Why don’t you know I’m Marcus’s sister? Isn’t he your best friend?”
I don’t answer her immediately. My brain is still processing several things at once.
Marcus's brooding the past few weeks finally makes sense. I thought he needed some space when he didn’t confide in me.But now I know the reason behind his attitude, I don’t think his mood will change anytime soon.
“I don’t… He told me to stay away from you.”
“He told you to stay away from me but didn’t show you who exactly to stay away from?” she asks in a sharp voice. She exhales. “Well, that doesn’t matter. I’m not defined by my brother, and I’m not his possession. I’m my own person.”
She’s not wrong.
Every instinct is screaming at me to walk away, to categorize this attraction as forbidden and bury it. Marcus is my friend. My teammate. The guy who has had my back through injuries and losing streaks.
But one disloyal part of my mind is agreeing with Ivy. She’s a grown woman who makes her own choices.
And I’m already so deep in this lie about King that walking away from the real her feels impossible.
“You are your own person, Ivy.” I drag a hand through my damp hair, frustration and want tangling in my chest. “And you can make your own choices. But let me be clear about what I want.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver now. If anything, it sharpens.
“I want you,” I say plainly, because dressing it up would cheapen it. “You’re the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met.”
Her breath catches, just barely. I keep going before she can deflect it with logic or distance.
