“You guys know the hockey team?” Corinne asks when he navigates to the bar.
“He’s Maya’s boyfriend,” Hana answers.
“Oh, shit. Nice.” She holds out her fist and I bump mine against it. “Is it true the players fuck like animals? Seems like they would with all that raw energy during the games.”
Reagan and I snort, leaning heavily on each other for support. I’ve told her about what it’s like with Easton because we tell each other just about everything.
“I can’t speak for all hockey players, but, uh, yes?” I stammer. “Can’t complain, ten out of ten.”
“More like twenty out of ten at least after what you told me,” Reagan says.
The four of us break into giggles, then the song changes. Corinne and I hold our arms in the air.
She bounces on the balls of her feet. “Oh, oh! Here we go.”
“Let’s do it,” I say with a wide grin.
Hana backs her ass up against Reagan and Corinne pairs off with me. We belt the lyrics of the song while we dance our hearts out. I sink low, waving my hands along Corinne’s petite frame while she rolls her body, then pop back up with my arms twisting above my head.
When the song ends, we’re out of breath and laughing. I catch Easton’s eyes on me. He’s watching with a mix of amusement and desire that makes me feel amazing. It reminds me of the way we met.
Another song starts up that gets us just as hyped, and we lose ourselves to having the best night.
TWENTY-FIVE
EASTON
The girls are havingthe time of their lives. Seeing Maya smiling and laughing while she dances with her friends makes me want to be by her side. It’s a challenge to remain at the bar watching over them to guard them from douchebags and creeps, but I lean on my elbows and stay rooted to my spot.
They draw attention from guys. How could they not? They’re beautiful and radiate confidence with their dancing.
There are a few times I have to get up, giving anyone that looks at Maya and her friends too long a glare that says if they touch her, they’ll answer to me.
When I’m satisfied they’re safe for the moment, I turn back to the bar for a refill on my water. The bartender is chatting with me when I spot someone coming up to order a drink in my peripheral vision.
The blood in my veins rages to life in a violent boil at the sight ofWiener. What the hell is he doing here? It’s almost two hours from Elmwood.
That’s far to go for a night out, and too close to Heston Lake for my comfort after the shit he pulled a couple of months ago.
He’s with a girl and he’s spotted Maya.
If he looks at her again, we’re going to have a huge fucking problem.
The conversation with Maya about how things ended between them before she started college runs through my head. My hand balls into a fist and I temper the urge to go over there and knock him the fuck out.
Swallowing hard, I concentrate on the memory of Dad’s voice to calm down. I don’t need an assault charge on my record or I can kiss my NHL dreams goodbye.
I eye his arm. It’s no longer in a thick cast, now resting against his chest in a sling. Seems like he’s playing it up for the girl he’s here with.
There’s an open tab on my phone’s browser that I refresh every day to check if he’s still benched with his injury.
If this asshole wasn’t still on the IR list, I’d wipe the ice with him. The severe penalty for fighting in an NCAA game and any game suspensions after would be worth it to make him pay for everything he’s done to Maya.
Anger burns through my veins when he says something to his date after their drinks are delivered, then weaves through the dance floor in Maya’s direction.
Oh, hell no.
I push off the bar and stalk after him with purposeful strides. Just before he reaches her and her friends, I shoulder him aside.
