Page 9 of Bite Your Tongue

He’s lucky he’s still alive. Between Smith and me, he’s fucked.

That only pisses me off further, and I reach back before landing a punch right to his fucking nose.

Who the hell does this stupid motherfucker think he is? First, he somehow got one of the world’s nicest, funniest, and prettiest girls to date him—the same girl who typically doesn’t even date. And now, he’s calling her a whore.

Saylor Sawyer is a free spirit. She fucks who she feels like, and even though I hate it because I wish it were me she was fucking exclusively, she hasn’t done anything wrong.

I step back, my chest heaving as I stare at him, seeing what he’ll do next. If he’s smart, he’ll fucking turn and walk away.

“You motherfucker,” he growls, looking at the blood pumping from his nose, dripping onto his hands.

He attempts to come at me, but I’m too fucking mad to let that happen.

Gripping his throat again, I shove him up against the wall and continue to rain punches down on him until his face is a bloody fucking mess.

“Cambridge, what the fuck?” Tripp roars, coming to my side. “Cut the shit!”

That only has me tightening my grip, but I know it’s just a matter of time before more of my teammates rush into the room.

“If you ever show that fucking video to anyone again, I will end you. Your career will be over, and you’ll be lucky to ever skate again.” Dropping my hand, I bring my nose close to his. “And if you so much as look at Saylor Sawyer, consider yourself dead. Do you understand, motherfucker?”

Tripp pulls me away from him, and because it’s Tripp and I respect him, I don’t fight him off of me. But I keep my glare on Rowan, watching him spit out a mouthful of blood onto the floor.

“Fuck you, Cambridge,” he growls before smirking. His teeth are covered in blood, but he’s unaffected. “You forget, you watched the video. So, if you try to take me down, I’ll bring you right along with me.”

I run back toward him, but Tripp catches me, yanking me backward with so much aggression that I feel it fucking everywhere.

“You stay away from Saylor, Ryder. If you don’t, she’ll find out you aren’t the good guy you’ve tried so hard to make her think you are.”

My mind spins, knowing that even though I didn’t purposely watch the video of Saylor, I did see a few seconds of it, not knowing it was her. She won’t believe that though. Not after all this shit.

What’s worse is … I’ve already hooked up with her. And now, he’s going to make her think she can’t trust me.

Sitting in the nurses’ lounge, I bring my Alani to my lips and chug down the rest of it. The worst part about these delicious drinks is that I feel like I’ve just started drinking it and—poof—it’s gone. I’d go for a second one, but I don’t think giving myself a heart attack is a good idea today.

I stare down at the unanswered message I sent Gemma hours ago, not surprised at all that she’s not responding, yet still somehow hurt at the same time. Gemma has been my best friend since we were kids, but years ago, she met her fiancé, and little by little, she’s frosted me out of her life. I can feel it in my gut—something isn’t right. I don’t know what I could have done to make her so distant, but I keep going back to my brother breaking her heart nearly six years ago, even though that seems like a stretch.

Right now … I just really need my friend. I don’t even know if I’d tell her the truth about the sex video. I honestly don’t think I would. Still, I want to hear her voice. Even that would be comforting right now.

I have friends from the hospital I work at. Lots of them. But none of them know me on the excruciatingly deep level that Gem does. And since just yesterday, when I learned the truth about what Rowan did, I’ve never felt more alone in my life. I also haven’t made the best decisions. I mean, last night, I got drunk and turned into a puck bunny with my brother’s best friend, Ryder Cambridge.

Yeah, not my finest moment.

What can I say though? I saw Ryder. This hot, muscular, attractive man. I knew he was friends with Rowan, and as childish as it might seem, I wanted to fuck his friend. Inhindsight, I understand that it didn’t fix anything. But what can I say? It felt good at the time. And I don’t regret it because, drunk as I might have been … I had a nice time.

I had a nice time multiple times.

Full disclosure, I’m not sure I’ve ever come that fast in my life. But no matter what, it can’t happen again. I’ve already caused enough issues in my brother’s life—from dating friends of his in high school and then … teammates. It never ends well, and yet Smith always takes my side. I can’t keep putting him in those situations. It’s time for me to grow the hell up.

Bringing my texts with Smith up, I send him a message that on his birthday in a few days, I’m going to take him to dinner. I don’t ask. I just tell and give him the address. Who else would he want to hang out with on his birthday besides his sister? Exactly. No one.

I tuck my phone into my pocket and push my chair back. As I stand, I chuck the empty Alani can in the garbage and glance at the clock. I can’t help but scrunch my nose up when I take in the fact that I still have over three hours left on this shift.

I shouldn’t have gotten drunk last night.

My dumbass knew I had to work today, and yet there I was, drunk off my ass anyway.

Sitting at the table with a handful of my teammates, I lean back in my chair slightly and stretch my back out. I may only be twenty-six, but some days, I feel like I’m about eighty-seven. I suppose playing a sport as rough as this one will do that though. I’ve been a winger for the New England Bay Sharks for seven seasons now, and I’m feeling it too.

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