“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Tristan rolls his lips together, jaw still ticcing. “Hallie Vaughn. I don’t suppose that name means anything to you, does it?”
At first, the memory of that name is hazy, and then my brain catches up as I recall the hot blonde from my sophomore year in college, who has the same last name as … Tristan.
Fuck. She never once told me that her brother was a pro hockey player.
“You banged my sister and then broke her heart after you stood her up at the movie theater and then …” His fingers twitch at his sides. “And then you took her best friend out and fucked her too.”
I did exactly that, and I know Hallie was really fucking mad at me for ghosting her. The last text she sent me before she blocked my number and avoided me around campus contained more expletives than it did regular words.
“So, yeah,” Tristan continues when I say nothing, “I guess you could say that there’s everything wrong with me when itcomes to dickheads like you, Jones. You fucked my baby sister, and I’ll never get past that.”
“We were never officially dating.” I point out the truth. “She wanted more, and I didn’t. I made that really clear when we hooked up for the first time.”
Tristan’s gray eyes turn almost black. “Thefirsttime?”
Shut up, William.
Tristan prods his finger into the center of my chest, and I don’t move away. He needs to have his moment of anger because I’d be the same if anyone hurt June.
No, I’d be worse than Tristan. I’d fucking murder them.
“If you want to keep that pretty face of yours symmetrical, then stay out of my way.”
I scoff at his pathetic threat and step into his finger. “How do you think the fans would react if you beat up the player they’ve been waiting to arrive for over four years?”
He considers that for a moment, burning rage softening in his eyes.
“Like I said”—I double down on the upper hand I have—“I never want to hear you speak of Drew like that again. She’s the ultimate professional. And for what it’s worth …” I let him hear the apology in my voice. “I don’t make a habit of hurting women. If I’d known that Hallie was into me like that, I wouldn’t have slept with her for a second time.”
All I get is Tristan’s stony expression. “At least you live up to your last name—your dad is an entitled prick, and from what I read about your mom, she looks down on everyone around her too. I’m willing to bet your sister is the same.”
I squeeze my forehead against his, looking down at the piece of shit below me.
“Say that again,” I spit right before Silas breaks us up.
“Say that again!” I repeat, but I only get Tristan’s satisfied smirk.
“Will, your session is over.” With a palm in the center of my and Tristan’s chests, Silas tips his chin at the locker room door. “And, Tristan, I think you were supposed to be in Coach’s office ten minutes ago.”
Tristan grunts, and I snarl as I spin and pound the heel of my hand into the locker room door before ripping the towel from around my neck and tossing it at the wall.
“I fucking hate it here!”
10
. . .
Drew
Something is wrong with Will.
He’s subdued, grumpy, and he generally looks unhappy.
As he moves about the kitchen, finishing off the lobster dish he’s been prepping since he got home from the gym, his shoulders are slumped, even if he’s trying to hide whatever is weighing them down.
“I think the fans would appreciate some insight into your pregame routine, if you’d be willing to make a video, talking them through it at some point?” I suggest from where I’ve been sitting at his kitchen island for the past half hour, head buried in my laptop.
