Saturday afternoon rolled around before I knew it, hitting me smack in the face. I tried to back out of attending the three o’clock rematch on home ice against the Falcons. I really, really tried. I did not want to see Luke, and I wasn’t sure I could face Chase after last weekend, either. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, Derek guilt-tripped me into attending. Just like always.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I had told him.
“You have to come,” he’d said. “You’re good luck, Bails.”
No pressure there.
Why, if I was such good luck, had the Bulldogs lost the last three games I attended? I kept that question to myself, not wanting to mess with Derek’s head before the game.
Pathetically, I didn’t have any other plans anyway. If I didn’t go, I’d be doing laundry or sitting in my room surfing Netflix. Watching my brother play for a few hours wasn’t asking much. I would pretend it was freshman year all over again—before Luke and I ever met.
I wished it was.
This time, at least, I would cut loose immediately after to avoid the awkwardness. I’d start with that, then maybe I could leave earlier and earlier as the season went on, eventually not coming at all. If I eased into it gradually, maybe Derek wouldn’t notice or care as much.
Or maybe things would magically get less awkward with Luke. But probably not.
To say our season was off to a rough start would be an understatement. By the start of the third period, the Falcons were leading again with a score of four to two. Not great, but at least we were on the board.
Dallas Ward stole the puck from Paul, flying into our end zone like a streak of lightning. He dodged Derek’s defensive efforts, leaving him in the dust, and passed to Carter, who was perfectly positioned, as usual. The guy had the hockey IQ of a genius. It was infuriating.
Carter dug into the ice like a machine and came at the net before anyone could get near him. He wound up and sank it into the bottom left corner with a clean wrist shot, raising his stick up in victory as the puck sailed in.
It was a beautiful play, executed so quickly that Mendez didn’t stand a chance of stopping it. And as Carter’s third goal of the evening, it was a hat trick too. The Falcons fans in the crowd went wild, whistling and yelling his name. Chants of “nineteen” echoed around the arena as the Falcons on the bench gave him congratulatory fist bumps and helmet taps.
Ugh.
Both Carter and Ward were on fire tonight. Our team, not so much. But a score of five to two with fifteen minutes left meant we still had a fighting chance—in theory. Games could change on a dime. If everything was dialed in, it was more than possible to score two consecutive goals in the span of a minute or two. Then all it would take would be one more to tie it up.
It all boiled down to whether the Bulldogs stayed focused or let that fifth goal rattle them. Unfortunately, I had a feeling it would be the latter.
“Dammit,” Amelia groaned, covering her face. Her cheery-red nails hid her anguished expression. “The score is going the wrong way.”
“Still better than last week,” I said.
Chase hopped back onto the ice for another shift. Our gazes collided, and an electric jolt ran through my body. Goose bumps popped up on my arms beneath my black puffy down parka. He flashed me a drop-dead gorgeous cocky smile and winked before skating off to the other end.
Jillian poked me in the ribs. “Um, did Carter just wink at you?”
My stomach did a flip-flop, heart bounding against my ribcage. He did. He definitely did. What the hell was he thinking?
“Huh?” I squeaked, my voice was unnaturally high. “No. Must be a puck bunny nearby.” I turned around, pretending to survey the rows of seats behind us. The only other people seated nearby were a family of five with a baby and an elderly couple. Jillian and Amelia turned to look too, confirming as much.
“Hmm,” Jillian murmured, biting her coral-painted bottom lip. “Doesn’t look like it. And it definitely wouldn’t be me or Amelia. We don’t even know him.”
“Neither do I,” I lied.
And I definitely didn’t sleep in his bed last weekend, either.
“I really think he was winking at you, B,” Amelia agreed, leaning closer. “That’s so weird. Do you think he’s trying to piss off Luke?”
“Why would Luke care?” I asked flatly. “He’s the one who broke up with me.”
“Oh, come on.” She snorted. “You and Carter? You know that would piss him off.”
As the stands emptied after the game, I said goodbye to Jillian and Amelia and headed for the side doors so I could make a hasty exit. It was gorgeous outside for late September, which meant the twenty-minute walk home would be pleasant due to the sunshine and, more importantly, the lack of Luke’s presence.
“Bailey!” Jillian called. Her long, dark curls swayed as she frantically waved me over. “Come here for a second.”
Dammit, Jill. I couldn’t imagine what she needed that we hadn’t discussed during the two-and-a-half-hour game. Maybe I could pretend I hadn’t heard her? Nope, too late. She caught my eye. Reluctantly, I made a detour and headed in her direction.
“What’s up?” I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets and bounced on my heels, stealing a nervous glance at the fluorescent-lit hallway that led to the dressing rooms. I felt like a ticking time bomb being here. She’d better make it quick.
Jillian drew in a breath, speaking quickly. “I forgot to ask you about tomorrow. What time do you want to go to the mall to get those—”
Before she could finish, Luke walked around the corner—with Sophie by his side. Jillian stopped short, mouth open in surprise, and I froze on the spot. My stomach clenched as my gaze landed on where their hands were tangled together. Our breakup was so fresh it was almost like there was some other girl standing with my boyfriend. Only he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore. They looked lovey-dovey in a way that, prior to Friday, Luke and I hadn’t been in ages…if ever.
Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. This was not happening. Could not be happening.
They ignored us and strolled over to join the group a couple of feet away. Jillian’s eyes darted over to them, then back to me. “Uh, I’m sorry, Bails. I didn’t know she was here. I swear.”
But she knew they were together, didn’t she?
Everyone did. How long had this been going on? It was hard to believe there hadn’t been any overlap. Was there some big cover-up?
And if there was…did my brother know?
As if I’d accidentally summoned him, Derek emerged from the locker rooms and made a beeline for Jill and me. He glanced in Luke’s direction but didn’t react to seeing him with Sophie. Almost like he was used to the image already.
Derek sighed, running a hand through his sandy brown hair. “Hey, B. Jill.”
“Hey.” I was tempted to raise the Luke issue but knew it wasn’t the time. “Uh, good game.” Normally I would have something more constructive to offer, but my brain was short-circuiting. I glanced over Derek’s shoulder at Luke and Sophie. I couldn’t help it; it was like a train wreck I couldn’t tear my eyes away from. Sophie was everything I wasn’t: petite, girly, feminine. She wore skirts everywhere, had the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen, and didn’t know the difference between spearing and slashing.
“Not really.” Derek shook his head, jaw tight. “I don’t know what’s going on lately. We can’t seem to get our shit together.”
“All teams go through a slump once in a while,” I said, hiking my purse strap up on my shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll pass soon. Anyway, I was just leaving. I’ve got a deadline.” Not true, but it was easier to pretend I had a reason to be somewhere else.
“I’ll text you about tomorrow,” Jillian said, expression apologetic.
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
My eyes landed on Luke and Sophie again, lingering in some form of twisted self-torture. With her small frame and long platinum blond hair, she looked like a real-life Barbie, and he was her Ken. They were probably a better couple than we could have ever been. Which meant the past year and a half I’d spent with him was a complete and utter waste.
A lump formed in my throat. I needed to get out of here, stat. The good news was, I could see the exit. The bad news was, reaching it would require walking past the entire team, including Luke and Sophie. A necessary but unpleasant task.
Just as I started to make another break for it, Paul muttered, “Here comes Carter.” He jerked his chin toward the locker rooms. “What does that asshole want?”
Suddenly, Luke was the least of my problems. I came to a screeching halt, swiveling in the direction Paul had indicated. There he was, in all of his gorgeous, arrogant glory. Broad shoulders in a well-tailored navy suit with a determined expression on his face. Chase Carter.
And he was heading right for me.
Chase weaved through the crowded concourse purposefully, side-stepping the spectators milling about. Several girls stopped and stared, not even trying to hide that they were ogling him. One or two tried to talk to him but appeared to be too tongue-tied to speak. Even a few of the guys he passed were visibly dazzled by his presence.
It was like a scene from a goddamn movie. All he needed was a spotlight and his own soundtrack.
He was magnetic. Hypnotic. Utterly addictive to look at.
As he drew closer, all the conversations around me faded out, and an eerie silence fell over the group. He came to a halt beside me, throwing an arm around my shoulders.
“Ready, James?” He snapped his gum, giving me a wink.
It was the equivalent of an atomic bomb going off in my personal life. Everyone stared at us, wide-eyed, but no one said a word. We could have heard a puck drop fifty feet away.
Jillian and Amelia looked like they’d seen a ghost. Derek eyed Chase warily, which wasn’t totally unwarranted given his reputation. And Luke clenched his jaw, his face turning redder than the Falcons’ home jersey. Sophie looked up at him questioningly, but his eyes were laser focused on us.
Not even on us. On Chase.
Chase flashed Luke an easy grin and gave him a nod. On its face, it looked cordial, but in reality, the smile was more smug than friendly, and it was peak passive aggressive. It was a “what are you gonna do about it?” smile. This, of course, had the intended effect. Luke glowered at him, his expression murderous, but he didn’t speak. Really, what could he say?
Chase inclined his head to the doors. “Let’s go.”
“Uh, sure.” I glanced back over at Amelia and Jillian, already dreading the interrogation I would surely receive later. “I’ll see you at home.”
“Okay,” they echoed in unison, heads cocked and voices lilting in confusion.
They weren’t the only ones who were confused.
I awkwardly waved goodbye to the stunned group of witnesses as Chase steered me away, his arm still draped around my shoulders. My brain was having a hard time getting up to speed. It didn’t help that I was close enough to get a contact high from his delicious cologne.
He was still touching me…and I didn’t completely hate it.
Even though I still hated him. Obviously.
Chase wordlessly maneuvered me back through the crowded concourse and over to the side exit that led to the players’ parking area.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, stealing a glance at him once we were out of sight of my friends.
“Rescuing you, apparently.”
“I don’t need to be rescued.”
He chuckled, low and deep. “You sure about that?”
