Page 43 of Tangled in His Game

I snatch his glove from the open bag and throw it as far as I can. “Whatever. Just leave me alone and I won’t have to mention any of your family or friends.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you today?” He furrows his brow.

I turn my back to him, pretending I’m leaving. As I glance over my shoulder, I see him going for his glove and I quickly pull the other bottle from my bag. As fast as I can, I swap the bottles and stash his into my bag.

Then I hurry away from there. When I take a quick peek at Victor, he just watches me as he heads back to his bag, his forehead creased. I’m going in the wrong direction, or well, the exit isn’t anywhere near here, but I’m not leaving anyway.

I’m going to stay in the restroom and then go watch the game to make sure my plan has worked. And yeah, I could just wait for the whole thing to spread all over social media, but I want to be here and witness it. For once, my plan should work.

***

THE TEAM IS WARMINGup, but I can’t see Victor anywhere. What’s going on now? Did he really chug down the whole bottle and he’s asleep in the locker room? I groan. It’s just my luck that all my plans go wrong, isn’t it?

I return to the hallway. A few players pass me by, but Victor isn’t one of them. Maybe he realized he wasn’t feeling all that well and went back to his dorm room? I saw the team’s doctor on the bench, though. Maybe Victor is just late or something.

I pace up and down in the hallway as I glance at the time on my phone. The game is about to start, but the locker room door is closed. Is it possible that I just missed Victor among the players? But the crowd screams his name whenever he shows up, so it’s kind of hard not to notice him.

I hear the noise coming from the crowd and the rink. My pulse speeds up. Should I leave?

But then the locker room door opens, and my eyes widen.

Chapter 21

VICTOR STUMBLES THROUGHthe door. His face is pale, his forehead sweaty. His gaze passes over me, but it’s as if his glassy eyes can’t see me. What’s wrong with him?

He takes a step forward and crumples to the floor. I stare at him in shock as he unsuccessfully tries to clamber to his feet.

Oh fuck. This isn’t a known side effect of the sleeping pills I put into his bottle. It’s something different. Or maybe he took something else with his water and the mix turned out to be a completely wrong combination. I should run. Someone will find him here and help him.

But I can’t force my feet to move. This is all my fault. I should’ve realized he would be taking something else for his performance, even when he isn’t injured. Just because I haven’t found any proof of it doesn’t mean he’s not using something. And two drugs interacting might be dangerous.

I swear under my breath as I rush to his side.

“Victor, hey,” I say, placing my hand on his cheek.

“He’s going to kill me,” he mumbles.

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