“She rejected you.” I keep my voice low and controlled. “And you couldn’t handle it. So you spread rumors like a little boy throwing a tantrum on the playground.”
“I told people what I saw.”
“You told people what you wanted them to believe. There’s a difference.” I take a step closer. He holds his ground, but barely. “What’s the matter, Reed? Is your ego that fragile? A woman turns you down, and you have to try to destroy her career?”
His smirk slips. “She’s not that special.”
“Yeah, she is.” Another step. “And you know it. That’s why it stung so badly when she wanted nothing to do with you.”
His face darkens. “I don’t know what she told you, but—”
“She told me everything. I saw it—the fake injuries, the way you’d find excuses to be in the training room whenever she was on shift, the way you’d corner her after sessions.” I take another step closer, and he takes a step back. Interesting. “Dana knows now too, by the way. All of it. So whatever story you’ve been spinning? It’s done.”
For the first time, real concern flashes across his face. “You told Dana?”
“I told her everything: the harassment, the retaliation, the fact that you spread rumors because a woman had the audacity to turn you down.” Another step forward, and he backs into the wall. “How do you think that’s going to play out for you?”
“It’s her word against mine.”
“No. It’s her word, my word, and whatever paper trail she’s been keeping.” I’m close enough now to see the worry lines appearing on his forehead. “You really think she’s been putting up with your crap for weeks without documenting it? She’s smarter than you on your best day, Reed.”
He opens his mouth—probably to say something stupid—when footsteps echo down the hallway.
Banks rounds the corner, takes one look at the scene, and stops. His eyes move from me to Grayson to the approximately three inches of space between us.
“Problem?” he asks, his voice flat.
“No problem.” I don’t take my eyes off Grayson. “Reed and I were just having a conversation about professional conduct. Weren’t we?”
Grayson’s gaze darts to Banks—six-four, built like a brick wall, with a permanent scowl currently directed right at him—and whatever bravado he had left evaporates.
“We’re done here,” he mutters, trying to slide along the wall toward the stairwell.
I let him get two steps before I speak again.
“Hey, Reed.”
He pauses but doesn’t turn around.
“If I hear you’ve so much as looked at her wrong—” I step closer, and Reed’s back hit the wall. Good. “—if she tells me you’ve been anywhere near her, if you so much as breathe in her direction—” I let him see exactly what’s coiled behind my eyes. The thing I kept leashed on the ice. The thing that would very much enjoy an excuse. “There won’t be a conversation next time. Banks won’t be around to stop me. There won’t be witnesses. There’ll just be you, trying to explain to the trainers how you broke your own face. We clear?”
He doesn’t answer. He just shoves through the stairwell door and disappears.
The door swings shut behind him, and I finally let out a breath.
“You good?” Banks asks.
“Yeah.” I roll my shoulders, trying to release some of the tension still coiled in my body. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You weren’t actually going to hit him, were you?”
“I was thinking about it.”
“Don’t.” Banks falls into step beside me as we head for the elevator. “He’s not worth the suspension.”
“I know.” I punch the button for the locker room level. “But it would’ve felt really satisfying.”
Banks almost smiles. Almost. “Can’t argue with that.”
