Cole’s head snapped up at the sound of the tablet hitting the floor. His gaze found me instantly, like he’d been waiting for me to walk through those doors.
The puck skittered away from his stick.
His entire body went rigid on the ice, and I watched his lips part in what might have been my name. Even from this distance, I could see his gaze sweep over me—the fittedjeans that hugged my curves, the athletic top that showed just enough skin, the red lipstick.
Good. Let him look. Let him remember.
Then, Tristan appeared beside him, and my breath caught for an entirely different reason.
Where Cole looked like he wanted to devour me, Tristan’s face softened with relief.
“Eva,” Tristan breathed, loud enough for his voice to carry across the ice.
Practice stopped. Every player on the ice turned to stare at the three of us caught in this horrible triangle of want and hurt and unfinished business.
Haruto skated closer to Tristan, ready to intervene. Rami positioned himself between Cole and me.
Cole’s jaw clenched, and he flexed his hands around his stick. For a terrifying moment, I thought he might actually climb over the barrier and come for me.
Instead, he pivoted sharply and slammed his shoulder into the nearest player—some freshman who hadn’t been quick enough to get out of the way. The kid went down hard, and suddenly, everyone was moving, shouting, the careful choreography of practice dissolving into chaos.
“Carter!” Alek’s voice boomed across the ice, sharp with authority, his Russian accent as thick as I’d ever heard it. “Penalty box. Now.”
Cole’s eyes never left mine as he skated toward the box. He slammed into the plexiglass, his eyes still locked on mine. Alek’s whistle shrieked across the ice.
“Again,” he commanded the team, his voice cutting through the lingering tension. “And if anyone else decides practice is optional, you’ll join Carter.”
Slowly, reluctantly, the players returned to formation.
“Miss Jackson.” Alek’s voice was low and controlled. “Perhaps you could retrieve your tablet and allow us to get back to work.”
My hands shook so badly, I could barely pick it up. When I straightened, Alek was studying my face with those dark, penetrating eyes.
“Are you going to be a problem?” he asked quietly when I reached the bench.
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze steadily. “No, sir,” I lied. Fuck yes, I was going to be a problem.
“Good.” He turned back to the ice. “Because we have work to do.”
I stood beside Alek during practice, observing and taking notes, as I had in every practice before. When I wavered thirty minutes in, he reached into the bag at his feet and silently handed me an orange without ever even looking at me.
The sharp citrus taste took me back to his office—the shameful moment when I came to him to beg him to put me on my knees, and he knew exactly what I needed to break me out of my spiral.
Out of the side of my eye, I looked at him. His fingers were white where they gripped the barrier, but he didn’t turn his head my way, not even when he instructed me to take notes on this player’s injury or that.
My heart hardened once again.
Alek might have fucked me once, but I’d use him to fuck over Jed Carter.
Even if it cost me everything.
20
TRISTAN
I was so fuckingtired of walking into a silent house, feeling like a stranger in my own home, like I didn’t even have the right to use the kitchen.
Yeah, the guys had warmed up to me a little when I’d demonstrated that I was determined to make Eva’s life easier, not harder, but my solidarity with Cole was costing me.
