The elevator chimes, and I open the door before Brett can knock. I grin at him and step aside to let him in. “Hey, nice surprise. You could have called first?—”
His fist connects with my jaw before I can finish the sentence. Stars explode across my vision as I stumble backward.
“What the fuck!” I shout, my hand going to my face.
“You son of a bitch!” Brett's voice is raw with rage. “How long have you been sleeping with my sister?”
Harper appears in the doorway, her face pale with shock. “Brett, what are you doing?”
“I came to check on my sister,” he snarls, his eyes never leaving mine. “Imagine my surprise when I find out that my best friend has beenfuckingher.”
My stomach drops. Shit.
“Brett, let me explain—” Harper starts.
“Explain what? That you've been lying to me for months?” Brett's attention turns to his sister, and his expression shifts from rage to hurt. “How long, Harper? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back?”
“We weren't sneaking around,” I say, stepping protectively in front of Harper. “We were being private.”
“Private?” Brett lets out a bitter laugh. “Is that what you call it when you seduce my little sister?”
“I didn't seduce anyone,” I snap. “And Harper's not a child. She can make her own decisions.”
“Can she?” Brett's eyes are cold. “I know you, Cole. You're capable of a lot, but love isn't one of them. You’re using her.”
Harper tenses behind me.
Brett turns back to his sister. “How could you fall for this? He's using you, Harper. The second his career is on the line, the second hockey calls, you'll be nothing but a memory.”
“That's not true,” Harper says, but her voice wavers.
“I never took you for a fool, but you are.” With that, he whirls around and storms to the elevator, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.
I gently pull Harper inside, my jaw throbbing. “Let me handle this. I'll go after him.”
“No.” She touches my arm. “Let him cool down first. You're both too angry right now.”
She’s right. Right now, Brett is not in the right mind frame to listen to reason. I close the door and lean against it, my head spinning from both the punch and Brett's words.
“I'm so sorry,” Harper says, her hands fluttering around my face. “I can't believe he hit you.”
“It's fine. I would have done the same thing if our positions were reversed.”
She disappears into the kitchen and returns with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel. “Sit down. Let me look at your eye.”
I settle onto the couch, and she gently presses the makeshift ice pack to my swelling eye. Her touch is tender, but there’s guilt written all over her face.
“This isn't your fault,” I tell her.
“It is. I should have let you tell him. I knew Brett would react badly.”
“He'll come around. He just needs time to process.”
She's quiet for a moment, dabbing at the cut on my cheekbone. “What did he mean when he said you'll choose hockey over me?”
I sigh. “Brett only knows the old version of me, Harper. The version that put hockey above everything else, including relationships.”
“And is that who you are?” she asks in a trembling voice.
