Page 5 of Boots & Scars

My teeth clenched together so hard I thought they might crack. Ashley. Just hearing about her made my blood boil.

Walker's gaze drilled into me, those damn sharp eyes of his not missing a beat. "So, he did," he concluded.

I turned away, fists tightening at my sides. The room felt even more suffocating now. The walls closed in with each passing second.

"You're a liability, Sinclaire," Walker continued, his tone cold and unyielding. "This isn't just about your career; it's about the reputation of this academy and the league itself."

"Save it," I snapped back, not caring about whatever self-righteous lecture he had lined up next.

Walker leaned back again, a smug look creeping across his face as if he had won some kind of silent battle. "Get your act together or you'll be out on your ass faster than you can say 'Stanley Cup.'"

I wanted to punch that smug expression right off his face but restrained myself—barely.

“You’ll be a washed-up has-been, getting drunk in a bar and telling stories about the only good ten years in your miserable life,” he said. “Is that the life you want? You’re a goddamn legacy, and you don’t give a shit.”

“I am nothing like my father,” I growled through clenched teeth.

“Clearly,” Walker said. “Your father had class. He played the game for the game, not as a way to take out his aggression on assholes who run their mouths.”

“Just because you coached my father doesn’t mean you know shit about him,” I spat back.

“Maybe not,” Walker conceded after a moment, leaning back in his chair. “I took this meeting because of my obligation to the NHL. I don’t like you, Sinclaire. I never have. And that brother of yours? I’m waiting for him to give me a reason to expel his ass.”

A smirk crept across my face. “How’s Holly?” I asked.

John’s jaw ticked, and his eyes darkened like a storm brewing on the horizon.

“What?” I pushed, enjoying the crack in his composure. “You want to hit me, Dean Walker? Maybe a few times?”

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the desk, but he didn’t move from his seat. The tension between us was thick enough to choke on, and for a second, I thought he might actually swing at me.

"Funny," I said, a smirk curling my lips. "If someone talks about my fiancée, it's unacceptable to put them in their place. But if I even mention your daughter? Look at how angry you are, Dean. You want to hit me something fierce, don't you?"

Walker’s face flushed red, veins standing out on his neck like cables ready to snap. “I know kids like you,” he growled. “Though, at 28, you shouldn't be a kid anymore, should you? You've got a chip on your shoulder because of some childhoodaccident that left you scarred and ugly. You pretend you don't give a shit about it, but the truth is, you do.”

His words hit like a slap. My fists clenched tighter.

“Unfortunately for you, Sinclaire,” he continued, his voice like ice, “you're just as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside. And if you don't get your shit together, no one's going to love you.”

I scoffed, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. “You think I care about something as stupid as love?”

“I know you do,” Walker said, eyes narrowing. “You want to know how I know? Because Matthews spoke about the only good thing in your life. What did he say, hmm? That she was fucking around on you?”

My jaw tightened, but I kept my face impassive.

If Ashley had been cheating, I would have understood. Hell, I looked at myself every day in the mirror and saw the scars from when I was ten. Sure, I was tall and lean, packed with corded muscle from years of playing hockey. But my face? It looked like someone had tried to carve it into something unrecognizable and then gave up halfway through.

But she hadn't been cheating.

And Matthews knew it.

Walker’s eyes bore into mine as if trying to pry open my thoughts and read them like a book.

“You think you can get under my skin?” I finally said, my lips twisting down. “You’re not half as good at this game as you think.”

His expression didn’t change; he just leaned back in his chair again and steepled his fingers together. “I don’t need to get under your skin,” he said calmly. “You’re doing a fine job of destroying yourself with no help from me.”

I leaned back in my chair, a smirk playing on my lips as I watched Walker's face contort with barely contained rage.