The way I felt when Connor was touching her… we might be down a teammate if he does that shit again. But what I really hate to admit is that something inside me liked it. Being withbothof them. I was partly jealous, and mostly fucking turned on.
I rake my fingers through my damp hair, then grip my chains.
“I’m focused. On the Dragons.” I look him in the eye as I say it.
“You can’t be playing the lines of both worlds. You’re in one or the other and it’s fine if you sign it, good for you, you’ve earned it. But coming to a decision is better than playing in limbo each time you step out onto the ice.”
I exhale sharp, my nostrils flaring.
Wynon drops his arms by his side, then pinches the bridge of his nose a second. “Listen, I get it. Selfishly, I want you here another year, but I know it doesn’t make sense.”
“I just need time,” I say, and there’s nothing more truthful than that. How much? For how long?
Until I figure shit out with Neve. With one of your other players.
But I don’t say that. It would be unimaginable.
“Let me know when you’ve run out of it,” Coach says, his tone sharp again. This is how he gets when he’s afraid of something. Losing, usually. Maybe this time, losing me.
I clench my teeth, but I know better than to bite back. I’ve perfected the art of restraint, but it seems to be slipping from my grasp.
I don’t recall the last time I lost control, really.
It might feel good if I let it go, just once, just on someone.
My mind flickers to Sylvan and I hate that I want to deck him and fuck him all at once.
“Don’t worry about me,” I say, keeping my voice even.
Wynon blows out a breath, steps back from me. I think he’s going to leave, but before he turns, he says, “Be careful tonight. You drive here?”
I frown and shake my head once. “Walked.” Usually do, unless it’s a game night, in which case I want to leave as soon as humanly possible.
“These… murders.” He hesitates, then he glances down the row of lockers, toward Sylvan’s, his helmet hung up, skates on the rack.
I make a purposeful effort not to react to that look. As if I didn’t see it at all.
“Are you worried?” he asks, swinging his eyes back to me.
What he doesn’t clarify is if I’m worried about being the next victim—even though I don’t fit the profile—or worried that the perpetrator is someone I know.
I shake my head once. “Nah.” But it comes out all wrong. “You know something I should, too?”
He frowns, glances at the floor, then shakes his head. “Seems you’re both in the clear.”
I know who he’s referring to.
“But if you need to talk to anyone about that night, tell me, okay?”
I swallow tight. Nod once.
“And if you see anything weird, feel anything, call the police.”
“Of course.”Unless it’s Sylvan.
But I know I’m overreacting.
Still, whatever it is Neve wants to say, I can’t shake the feeling that it has something to do… with him.
