I snort as he takes my hand, wrapping his gloved fingers through mine. “That’s perfect, because I don’t have any plans for the day, so I can be utterly and completely yours.”
Timber
Asnarl tears from me as I lunge for the fucker who bumped into me.
We get knocked around all the time during games, but this isn’t the day to fuck with me. It’s not the week. It isn’t the entire fucking year for anyone to come within two fucking feet of me, or I’m going to tear their fucking throats out.
“Fuck you!” he spits as my glove connects to his helmet and he stumbles back into the wall with a crash. We got into it with the Rochester Rutters at their home arena earlier in the year. But now we’re playing in Nashville, and we’ve all got grudges.
I have him pinned, and I’m not letting go.
I don’t give two shits who he is, just that I can take my anger out on him.
The Rutters are Kane’s old team. They were the ones he played for when he smashed up my face, before he joined the Scorpions just to piss me off. The Rutters used to be careful around me, but their whole team is a rotating door of players, so most of them have forgotten that time. But I haven’t.
His black hair is enough. Even though his uniform is bright yellow and he looks nothing like him, it’s as if Kane is there, and I roar as I throw another punch.
He lifts his stick, ramming me in the chest, knocking the wind from me. I’m not going anywhere.
When I skid backward, I pin my toe into the ice, screeching as it digs in to stop myself from sliding too far. All so I can kick off and surge at the Rutter again.
But he’s waiting for me, and he drops his stick and sends his weight backward as he lifts his knee to ram it into my thigh.
Pain bursts through me, but it’s nothing worse than the ache that stabs my heart with every beat.
The Rutter grabs my helmet, holding me tight as he jerks me, hurling me to the left, and I tumble down onto the ice again.
My vision fills with solid white. I press my gloves against the surface as I find my fight again.
But I’m so fucking ruined I don’t even have the energy to growl. I used it all up attacking that guy.
Before I can stand and make another attempt, the ref is there, and I’m skating off toward the sin bin. I don’t give a fuck. None of this shit matters anymore.
Because Kane isn’t here, and no one has any idea where he’s gone.
We turned up at the rink today for the next game, and after an hour, there was still no sign of him. Every person who called just got his voicemail. No one’s seen him since yesterday, and one of the team assistants even drove over to his house to find it all locked up with no car in sight.
There’s been no reports of traffic accidents or anything else that might have happened to him. He’s just disappeared.
And it makes everything ten times worse, because it’s the only time I actually fucking need him.
I’ve already laid into him for knowing about Luke and Ollie and not telling me. I want to stay furious at him. But did he really betray me when he didn’t have any loyalty to me in the first place?
Just because we got hot and heavy once and he kept saying he wanted to be a pack, all I could think about was his dopey face whenever he talked about Ollie.
And then my stupid jealousy would spark up again.
It’s not just because Ollie looked so fucking in love with him when I saw them together that it hurt. It’s that I've been left out of their relationship. They had their own life together, and I was just the dumbass who couldn’t scent her and let her suffer, as Kane said.
Apparently, this is somehow my fucking fault, even though she was the one who tricked me.
I’m sitting in the penalty box, watching the game, sighing like a moron. I only have five minutes to stew before they’ll let me back on the ice. But I wish Kane and I were stuck in the sin bin together so he can chatter and tease and distract me.
It’s pathetic that I miss them both after what they’ve done.
I don’t even know if they plotted it together because it happened so fast. It could have been some plan Kane came upwith to fuck with me, and Ollie was in on it all along. Like his way to get payback for all the times I’d gone for him on the ice. Or maybe it was Marilyn's grand plan all along.
This whole thing is bullshit because my body and heart fucking ache, and I can’t sleep a wink. I even tried to watch the recording of what had happened between Ollie and me, only to find out the kitchen island blocked us from the camera. And it’s better that way.
