Page 121 of Arrogant Puck

The look that crosses Slater’s face tells me I’ve just made a terrible mistake. Because now he has a sport, which means he has a league, which means he has a way to find him.

“What’s his name?” he asks, his voice terrifyingly calm.

“No, please,” I plead. It’s not to save my ex from anything. I don’t want Slater to do something that will get him in trouble.

“Sage.” He steps closer, and for the first time since I’ve known him, I’m actually afraid of what he might do. “What. Is. His. Name.”

“No.” I back toward the door, putting distance between us. “You went through my private messages without my permission. You violated my trust, and now you want me to give you more information so you can do something stupid?”

“Stupid?” His laugh is harsh, bitter. “That piece of shit is threatening you. Using those photos to blackmail you, and you think wanting to stop him is stupid?”

“I think wanting to find him is stupid!” I snap back. “I think throwing your hockey career away for revenge is stupid!”

“My career?” He stares at me like I’ve spoken in a foreign language. “You think I give a shit about my career when someone is threatening the woman I—”

He stops himself, but the unfinished words hang in the air between us, heavy with implications.

“The woman you what?” I ask as my heart races. Tears threaten to spill over.

He runs his hands through his hair, looking suddenly exhausted. “The woman I care about more than anything fucking else in this world.”

The confession should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. Because caring about someone doesn’t give you the right to invade their privacy. It doesn’t justify going through theirpersonal messages and demanding explanations for trauma they’re not ready to share.

“If you care about me,” I say, my voice shaking with hurt and anger, “then respect my boundaries. Respect my right to handle this my own way.”

“Your way isn’t working,” he says bluntly. “He’s still terrorizing you. Still threatening you. Still has those photos—”

“Stop.” I hold up my hand, unable to hear any more. The tears fall. “Just stop. I can’t do this right now.”

“Can’t do what?”

“This.” I gesture between us. “Have this conversation. Deal with whatever right you think you have!”

“He’s threatening you, Sage, and you’re fucking protecting him!”

“I’m protecting you,” I say.

“So what, you’re just going to run away from me?”

The accusation stings because there’s truth in it. Running is what I do when things get too complicated, too painful, too overwhelming.

“Maybe I am,” I say, lifting my chin defiantly. “Maybe that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Like hell you are.” He moves to block the doorway, his massive frame filling the space. “We’re not done here.”

“Yes, we are.” I try to push past him, but he doesn’t budge. “Move, Slater.”

“Not until you tell me how long this has been going on. Not until you explain why you didn’t trust me enough to tell me someone was threatening you.”

“Trust?” I laugh, the sound bitter and broken. “You want to talk about trust? You went through my laptop without my permission. You read my private messages. You saw photos that were taken without my consent and used to humiliate me.” Tears are burning my eyes now. “So don’t you dare lecture me about trust.”

“Trust! You want to talk about fucking trust! You just ripped my head off after finding a bag of fucking pills that were laying around! And you didn’t fucking believe me when I told you I was sober.”

“Fuck you,” I seethe, stepping into his face. “That doesn’t give you any fucking right to go through my things!”

“Tell me where he fucking lives, Sage.”

“No!” I try to leave, but he steps in front of me. “I’m not doing this with you, Slater. Move out of my way.”

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