What the fuck is she doing here?
Kennedy’s expression is carefully neutral, but her shoulders are tense as Gigi speaks to her.
My skates are moving before I’ve even made the decision, cutting across the ice toward the bench, ignoring the drill still going on around me. I need to know what Gigi’s saying. I need to get Kennedy away from her. I need to?—
A hand clamps down on my shoulder, firm and unyielding.
“Don’t,” Cole says, low enough that only I can hear over the sounds of practice.
I shrug, but rather than let me go, he tightens his hold. “She’s talking to Kennedy.”
“I know. I have eyes,” Cole says. He’s using his “captain” voice. It’s the one that’s stopped more than one locker room fight and commands respect whether we like what he has to say or not. “But you need to focus.”
He shifts to block my view of the stands, forcing me to look at him instead of the nightmare currently smiling at my girlfriend. Fake girlfriend. Whatever.
He gives me a steady, assessing look. It’s the kind that makes him a good captain. He reads people well. He knows when someone’s on the edge of being spectacularly stupid and needs to be talked down.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he continues. “And I’m telling you right now, it’s a bad call.”
The anger growing inside me flares hotter. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“You’re thinking about going up there, getting between them, making it clear that Gigi needs to back the fuck off.” He tilts his head, brows raised. “Am I wrong?”
I stay silent. Of course that’s what I’m thinking. I’m also considering several creative options involving telling Gigi exactly where she can shove it.
“That’s what I thought.” Cole’s expression softens slightly, but his voice stays firm. “And I get it, man. Gigi’s an issue. But you storming out of practice to deal with it?” He shakes his head. “That’s not the move. That’s exactly what she wants. She’ll know she’s getting to you.”
“I’m not worried about me,” I growl, my hands flexing at my sides. The urge to move, todo something, is almost overwhelming. “I’m worried about her.”
“Kennedy?”
“Yes, Kennedy. Who’s up there dealing with my psycho ex alone while I’m down here pretending to care about practice drills.”
That sympathetic look he’s giving me is now tinged with exasperation. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. You’re agitated—” He ducks, locking eyes with me, making sure he has my full attention. “And Kennedy can handle herself just fine, Davies. She’s not helpless.”
“I know she’s not helpless?—”
“Do you? Because you’re acting like she needs you to swoop in and save her.” His tone isn’t harsh, but it’s direct enough to land. “I once witnessed her tell a man twice her size that he was giving off ‘micro dick vibes’ and she walked away with her head high, so I don’t think she’d appreciate it if you stepped in to fight her battles, especially in front of our entire team.”
The words hit harder than I want to admit. He’s right. Kennedy can handle herself and certainly give as good as she gets. But knowing that and standing back and watching as Gigi circles her like a shark are two very different things.
“I just—” I crane my neck, looking around him to where Gigi is still talking, her body language all calculated manipulativeness. “I don’t trust Gigi not to pull something.”
“Of course she’s going to pull something.” Cole follows my gaze. “But Kennedy knows who she is, and more importantly, she chose to be here in spite of that. She choseyou, knowing all the baggage that came with you.”
My heart sinks. Except she didn’t. Not really. She chose a fake relationship that serves a purpose. A relationship with a defined end point that I stupidly forget about every time shesmiles at me a certain way or cracks a joke or moans when I slide inside her or sends me texts that make me laugh despite myself.
I peer over Cole’s shoulder one more time. I can’t hear their conversation, but Kennedy is smiling. And while I find the expression sexy as fuck, it’s certainly not friendly.
“She’s handling it,” I mutter.
“Of course she’s handling it,” Cole agrees. “And when she’s done handling it, she’ll come down here expecting you to not have caused another meme-worthy incident.”
I take a breath, force my shoulders to relax, and deliberately turn my back on the stands. “You’re really annoying sometimes, you know that?”
“Part of my charm.” Grinning, he claps me on the shoulder. “Now get back out there and stop letting the rookie score on you.” He skates off before I can respond.
I do my best to forget about it, to leave it be, for the rest of practice. But when the whistle blows and I find Kennedy waiting near the entrance to the locker room, it all comes flooding back in.
