Oh my god—a kitten and her ball of yarn.
They were so fucking cute, my chest ached.
“Fat bitch,” someone said beside me, slurring his words.
What the hell?
“Fucking puck bunnies. Bet he’s with her because she’s easy.”
I looked around but didn’t see any of the other women associated with the team.
“Shows why you can’t let women work in men’s sports,” another voice said. “They just hook up with the players anyway.”
“I applied for that job. Bitch took my spot.”
Fat bitch. Easy.The words drilled into my skull. How many times had my father said shit like that about people he considered beneath him? About anyone who didn’t serve a purpose in his empire? I knew Eva was self-conscious about our relationship—she’d said so more than once, that she hated the way people looked at her when she was with us.
My fist connected with his face before I’d made a conscious decision to move.
Three men and me, with my fists up, wearing this stupid fucking mask that limited my visual field. But I was sober, and I was a hockey player used to taking my licks on the ice and playing the rest of the game. And who the fuck were these assholes?
One threw a punch at me, and I dodged it, only to slam my first in his stomach. While he was bent over, another took a swing at me.
Somehow, in the melee, my mask got knocked off.
“Cole!” Eva shouted from my left.
Oh fuck, she was going to be so disappointed in me.
Suddenly, I wasn’t fighting alone. Tristan was by my side, but the fight had turned into a fucking brawl.
What the hell?
People were losing their minds fighting, slinging deck chairs around, hitting each other with beer bottles.
I dodged and weaved, but when a fist collided with my cheek, I fucking felt it.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Shit.
Students started running, but I had to make sure Eva got out. I whirled around and searched the yard for her hair, only to find myself yanked back into the fray.
By the time I was standing up straight, a row of cops were handcuffing students and putting them into cars.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tristan swore, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away from the line of cars. “The last thing I fucking need is to get arrested for a fight.”
Before I could pull out my phone to call a rideshare, a cop stepped in front of the two of us. I froze. Tristan stilled and held his hands up. The cop didn’t even look at him—he was looking me up and down. “A goddamned Carter,” he hissed. “Just what I fucking needed.”
I sighed and offered up my wrists for cuffing. “I’m not gonna call my dad.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll all pay for this,” he muttered as he pushed my head down and into the backseat of the car.
Tristan joined me on the other side but didn’t say a word.
I didn’t either. If I’d learned nothing else from my father, it was when to keep my mouth shut. I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit to starting the fight in a cop car.
Two hours later, we were booked, along with half a dozen other students, my mask and belt and gloves in the property locker.
