“I’d guess he’s after information. Your dad has been on him about roster spots all week. He’s fighting to keep his call-up permanent. Do you think it’s a coincidence that he is suddenly interested in you, the head trainer who is related to the coach?”
A chill ran through me as Tyler’s face flashed in my mind. That smile, his interest in my father’s strategies, the way he’d pumped me for information after pretending to care about me as we lay in bed together after sleeping together for the first time. The humiliation I’d felt when my father ripped me apart in front of the team a few days later for divulging private informationthat had cost him his three players he’d been interested in acquiring to go to the team Tyler worked for. The memory of the entire situation felt like a knife in the chest.
“Do you not think I’ve learned to spot that?” I bit out.
“Then why were you smiling at him?”
My hands curled into fists, wrapping around the resistance bands I was holding.
“I was being professional, Evan. Which is far more than I can say for you right now.”
He took another step forward, closing the gap between us even more. I could see the storm raging in his eyes.
“I’m trying to protect you,” he said, his voice dropping to that low register that did things to my body.
“Why?”
Evan didn’t answer. Instead, he stood there, staring into my eyes. The silence between us stretched. I could see the gold flecks in his eyes, the muscles ticking in his jaw, and the way his gaze kept dropping to my mouth before snapping back up to my eyes.
“I can take care of myself, Evan,” I said, my voice low. “I don’t need you to warn me about men with supposed ulterior motives. I have a lot of experience with that, and if I decide to go out with Tate, that is my business, not yours. It’s not like I am dating anyone right now, anyway. So, please stop pretending like you care, because from my side of things, I know you don’t.”
“Bianca…”
“Evan, if you don’t mind, I have paperwork I need to finish before the upcoming sessions,” I said, moving away from him and heading to my office, never so happy to hear the click of the door shutting.
I sat down at my desk and stared at my computer screen. My hands were still trembling from the way Evan had looked at me and from the intensity of his voice when he admitted hewas trying to protect me. I could see in him the jealousy, the possessiveness, the want I knew he’d never admit to. I could also still see the anger in him every time he looked at me. Although, as I sat there, I couldn’t get rid of the fact he’d seen in Tate what I was terrified of repeating. That Tate was after something. What if Evan was right? What if I were still that naive girl, the one Tyler used because I’d been too desperate to see the warning signs?
I took a minute and took a deep breath, pressing my palms flat against my desk.
I was not that girl anymore. I’d learned, grown, and I was more careful and guarded.
Only I couldn’t shake the look in Evan’s eyes or his warning, and what scared me more than anything was that no matter how horribly Evan treated me, I felt safe with him. His possessiveness and jealousy made my heart race in a way no other man had.
I’d gottenhome late Tuesday night and stood in the doorway to the living room with a container of pasta from a little Italian restaurant around the corner from the Lair to find Evan lying on the couch watching TV.
“Oh no, absolutely not,” I demanded.
My scheduled television time was on Tuesday nights. It was something we’d agreed upon a month after I’d moved in. Normally, Evan was at practice, which was why I’d chosen tonight, but they’d moved tonight’s practice to today to give the guys time to rest up for the game tomorrow.
“There’s a game on,” Evan said flatly.
“Evan, I’m certain there is always a game on; however, you’ve probably been watching hockey for three hours and monopolizing the television.”
“Uh-huh, and now I am watching the Boston Enforcers game against the Vancouver Dominators.”
“Oh my god, they aren’t even your teams. If it were the LA Legends fine but?—”
“So? Your point?”
I looked at him, lounging on the couch in his gray sweatpants, which I felt should have been outlawed in our shared space, and frowned.
“Evan, it’s eight PM. I’ve had a long day, and I’d just like to eat my food and watch one episode of my show?—”
“Get a TV for your room then.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you serious? Why don’t you get one for yours then? It’s your place.”
“Main TV, main room, common area. I was here first, Bianca, and it is my place.”
