And it doesn’t. I’m all too aware that he won’t be looking forward anymore. I’m here to help him; he’s here to help me. And?—
Nope, not gonna think about that.Focus, Ryan.Do stuff. Keep busy. Don’t fall apart.
With skates off, I drop my hockey pants.
“Jesus,” Ethan says, covering his eyes.
“Relax, I’ve got long johns on.”
“They don’t leave much to the imagination.”
“Then turn the fuck around.” I work on my socks and shin pads.
Ethan twists his lips, raising a brow, but he continues without turning around. “He ordered his usual to his seats, but he didn’t get to enjoy any of it. It didn’t take him long to know it was you—which is super fucking sweet for him. You don’t know how unusual that is, but I do. You don’t deserve him.”
All of his words are intended as barbs.
“Be careful, Ethan, or I’m gonna think you want to fuck my husband. He’s not the only one capable of scooping out eyes.”
“I’m not paid enough for this. Anyway, it took five guards to stop him from heading down to the ice. He wanted to end every single person who got near you. I got him into his office by convincing him that it would be safest for you. He could take his anger out on inanimate objects. He wouldn’t say or do anything he’d regret later. Still wasn’t easy, because he was insistent that he’d never hurt you.”
I slide into a pair of shower sandals and remove my upper body pads, but I leave the long-sleeved shirt underneath. “Were you the one who gave him the ax?”
He pauses. “Not at first.”
“So, yes.”
“He demanded it. I said absolutely fucking not. But that was how I eventually lured him upstairs—promise of an ax.” Ethan shakes his head. “He’s gonna be so mad about that desk tomorrow. It was his uncle’s.”
Why would Tate give a fuck about anything from that asshole?
“Did he say anything while he was, uh, playing Wreck-It Ralph?”
“Just a lot of ‘Bring his fucking ass up here now, Ethan, before I cut Tyler’s dick off’.”
“Oddly specific.”
“Tyler’s a guard I’m fucking. Tyler Jones?” he says like a question as if it will ring a bell. It doesn’t.
He looks around, then he approaches me at the speed of a squirrel racing up a tree. Actually fucking laying his hand on my chest.
“Listen to me, you little Gen-Z taco,” he hisses. I have no fucking clue what a Gen-Z taco is, but he’s got my attention. “I bet your brain’s filled with all kinds of bullshit about what setTate off, but it’s just you.You,” he underlines, poking me hard in the chest.
“I know. I?—”
“Nuh-uh. I’m talking. I’ve had a lot of reservations about Tate keeping you. He’s slipping in every facet of his life. I’ve had to do more mop-up jobs since he met you than the whole time I’ve known him.”
I have a thousand questions, but Ethan might actually eviscerate me, so I keep my mouth shut.
“It’s you. You’re the wild card, the thing he can’t control. It’s itching at his brain that you won’t marry him, that he can’t make you marry him without losing your good favor, and then you do the one fucking thing he asked you not to do.”
Ethan seethes, breathing heavy, his fingers raring to strangle me. “Was it really so hard? Or are you too thick to learn anything about him? Either way, you’re shit for it. You’re his personal grenade. If I didn’t know for certain the old bastard was dead, I’d think Jasper sent you to destroy him.”
“What? No. That can’t be true. Tate’s the epitome of perfect control.”
“He was. I’ve never agreed with Jasper’s approach, but watching him spiral because of your ass, I’m beginning to think there was at least some method to his madness.”
What?Fuckthat. Does he know everything that fucker did to him? He can’t. I push his hand away from me. Tate’s not the only protective one in our relationship. I will bust his teeth if he actually means that shit.
