Will looks off to the side, brows pinched together in thought.
Christ. He really is desperate to know who I got into it with.
“Marshall Booth.”
If I had food in my mouth, then I’d spit it out. “No! We went to the same college, but he was a playboy.”
I pull a face and immediately regret it when I see the lines crease into Will’s forehead. He must think that I’m judging him.
I hold up a hand, part in surrender and part in apology. “Listen, I’m not saying that being a playboy is a bad thing or anything. I?—”
“I get it.” Will blows out a defeated breath, a flat tone returning to his voice. “Guys who sleep around are a fucking nightmare, and I could never imagine that you would be into that.”
Dark brown eyes pin me in place. “This season, I need to make a few changes in my life, starting with the way I conduct myself off the ice.”
I shake my head. “You don’t need to change, Will, and no one is asking you to either. I’m simply here to make sure the public only sees what they’re entitled to and that you’re not doing yourself a disservice online.”
His expression softens a fraction before silence falls between us.
“It was Paul Tierney,” I say after a few seconds. “We had a thing for a few months, and it was fun.” I pause and have no idea why the next words leave my mouth. “Although I didn’t appreciate being his dirty little secret for a time.”
Nothing. No response from Will.
I drop my head down and push away the plate, picking up my laptop and opening it.
“Drew.”
I clear my throat. “We need to talk about the Rogues charity gala in three weeks. I assume you have cleared your schedule for that.”
“Drew.”
I swallow and finally look at a stern-faced Will.
“Yep?” My voice is higher than usual, and my attempt to pass off what I just revealed about Paul totally fails.
Will leans forward on his elbows, more out of concern rather than mischief. “What do you mean, dirty little secret?”
It’s pointless, expecting Will to drop the subject. Like I said before, he gets his stubbornness from his mom.
“Did he treat you badly?” His voice is sharper now, demonstrating a side to this man I haven’t really seen before. I imagine he’d be like this if someone hurt June, but never me.
“He didn’t hurt me per se. But I definitely thought he was more serious about me than he actually was.”
I clear my throat and push down any remnants of the upset and humiliation I felt when he was pictured with his ex—who he’s now engaged to—on social media. Paul hadn’t had the balls to tell me that he was back with his previous girlfriend, and while I don’t think he ever cheated on her with me, I do know that’s why he always stayed over at my place and we never really went on dates where people could see us.
“Have you ever felt used by someone, and in the end, you’re madder at yourself for allowing them to treat you like that or for not seeing it sooner?”
Will considers my question for a second. “Not in a romantic sense. But I can relate to that feeling in other ways.”
I tip my head to one side, intrigued. “How so?”
Flattening his palms on the counter, he drags them toward him as he sits back. “It’s kind of how I feel right now as the hot new rookie for the Rogues—I’m here to serve a purpose and to get them a few more wins. I don’t have any allegiance to theteam or the fans. They weren’t my boyhood team or one that carries prestige. I got screwed in the draft, and my whole career feels transactional.” He waves a hand in front of him, motioning to my laptop. “Like how many sponsorship deals I can secure for them. It’s all about money with this team and …” He pushes a hand through his hair, and I can sense his frustration. “And while people might think that I’m all about image, I just want to play hockey. No pressure. No corporate bullshit. Just me, the ice, and three twenty-minute periods.”
“I didn’t realize you were so unhappy,” I say in a small voice.
Will rolls his lips together, and now the reasoning behind his earlier mood is clear.
“What about your teammates?” I ask. “I mean, I know you love the coach.”
