“You want me to grab you a drink? Champagne? Wine? Something stronger?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He chuckles under his breath, bumping my shoulder like we’re still kids. “You’ve always been the responsible one, huh?”
I laugh too quickly, and it sounds all wrong, even to me. Clay notices, his eyes narrowing where Evan stands close to me, before his buzzing phone pulls his attention away once again.
He checks the screen as his dad leans over, and I hear him ask, “Did you ever hear back from Coach Sanders?”
Everyone knows who Coach Sanders is. He’s the head coach of the Kolmont Kings hockey team. The one who coached Clay when they led their team to a championship in his junior year.
Clay steps away from the table when he realizes I’ve heard them. His mom pauses mid-laugh, turning toward him.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Just work,” Clay says, his voice clipped. He turns, glass still in hand, and walks toward the hallway.
Before he disappears, Clay’s gaze flicks toward the bar. I notice the anger that flashes across his face before he tries to smooth it over. I’ve seen that look before. The one he wears when he’s only seconds away from something that could blow up in his face.
My stomach drops when I follow his line of sight. A man stands there, watching Clay as he crosses the room with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I don’t know who he is, but something about his energy is off.
Then the man raises his voice, cutting through the music.
“Barlowe,” he calls, that smug grin still in place. “Heard your name’s been floating around for the coaching job. Kolmont must be getting desperate.”
The words hit like a slap, causing Clay to stagger for a moment, but he doesn’t react. Conversations around us turn to a nervous hum.
Whoever the man is, he’s not joking around. He’s trying to get a rise out of him.
Before Clay can take the bait, I cross the room in a hurry, stepping between them. My voice stays calm, even though my heart is beating out of control.
“Excuse me,” I say, polite but firm. “You’re a guest here tonight. If you can’t be respectful, we’ll have to ask you to leave.”
The man’s grin deepens. “Respectful,” he repeats, smirking. His gaze slides from me to Clay and back again. “You might want to be careful. People could start to notice why you’re stepping in to defend him. They might think there’s more to the story between the two of you.”
My stomach twists. He’s not just trying to provoke Clay anymore.
His smirk lingers as he takes a sip from his glass. “It’s not hard to piece together with the way you both keep staring at each other, even with his brother right there. Yet I’m the one being called disrespectful.” He chuckles, draining the rest of his drink, and sets the glass on an empty tray as a server walks by.
His eyes flick toward Clay one last time before he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving his words hanging in the air between us.
The noise slowly returns, but it all feels far away. Clay’s still beside me, every muscle drawn tight, hands flexing at his sides. His eyes stay locked on the spot where the man vanished.
“Clay,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t look at me. “Don’t,” he mutters. “Not here.”
I swallow hard, watching him fight to hold it together, watching the calm he’s been clinging to start to crack.
He’s holding it together for now. But not for long. And I’m afraid when he breaks, so will we.
Chapter Fifteen
Clay
Kolmont must be desperate.
I try to keep myself distracted, catching up with the guys and trading old stories while pretending nothing’s changed.
