Page 12 of Second Shot

“You want me to get them for you?” I shift uneasily. I don’t like having to be nice to him, but I did split his head open.

He gives me a wary look. “Nah, that’s okay. I know where everything is.”

“If you’re sure,” I mutter, moving to grab my suit out of the closet. I escape to the bathroom, feeling like a fool. Maybe Caldwell deserved what I did to him, but I still feel guilty.

Jesus, I pray he doesn’t have a concussion. Not for his sake, but because of the team. If I injured him so badly he can’t play tonight, Coach will probably murder me. Management didn’t fly Caldwell in before this game so he could sit on the bench with a head injury from one of his own teammates.

I strip and dress in my gray suit as fast as possible. I feel sweaty and stressed as I leave the bathroom. I’m relieved to see that Caldwell has a bandage on his forehead and he’s also dressed. It’s annoying when my pulse flutters at the sight of him adjusting the cuff of his crisp black suit.

The dark material hugs his muscular body in all the right places, accentuating his thighs and biceps. His blond hair gleams softly from the lamp beside him. The pink tie he’s chosen is bold but effortlessly stylish, his white shirt perfect against his lightly tanned skin.

Why does he have to be so damn attractive?

Pulling my gaze from him, I toss my dirty clothes onto my suitcase. “I’m heading down.” I move to the door, not waiting for his reply.Usually, Kincaid and I would go downstairs together, but I need some space from Caldwell.

As I start down the hall, I hear the door slam shut and he calls out, “Hey, Jacobs, wait up.”

I grimace, but slow my stride. He jogs to catch up to me, but I don’t glance over. I feel his stare as we reach the elevators. I press the down button, still basically ignoring him. When the doors open, I step in first and he follows, still shooting me glances. As the doors close you could hear a fucking pin drop. I hate how my breathing is unsteady. He can probably hear it in this silent tomb of an elevator.

He clears his throat. “Nervous about the game tonight?”

“No.” I’m lying. Truth is, I’m always nervous before any game. This one will be particularly stressful because Caldwell and I have only run drills together. We’ve yet to be tested on the ice during a real game. While I hate Caldwell, it’s important that we do our jobs well tonight.

“No?” he sounds surprised. “I am.”

Surprised at his candor, I meet his gaze. He smiles, and my gut twists because it’s a really charming smile. His teeth are white and straight, he has little dimples in his cheeks. I’ll bet that smile works on most people. Fuck, it’s kind of working on me.

“You’re nervous?” I ask.

He nods, rubbing his hands together. “Yeah. I wish I’d had more time before our first game, you know?” His eyes are imploring, as if begging me to understand how he feels.

Fuck his feelings.

“Huh,” I say. “I’d think a professional wouldn’t let the nerves get to him so much.”

A flush washes into his cheeks and his face instantly hardens. The warmth seeps from his eyes as his mouth thins. We ride the rest of the way to the lobby in awkward silence. Just before the doors open, he turns to me.

“What’s your problem?” he grates out, eyes glittering with frustration. “With me, I mean. What’s your problem with me, Jacobs?”

Oh, where do I begin, asshole?

But I’m not going to put him out of his misery so easily. I’m not going to tell him why I loathe him. Not yet. I need to play with my food a little bit longer. It’s more fun to pick at him. Undermine him. Torture him.

Feigning innocence, I frown. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come on, man,” he rasps. “You’ve given me the cold shoulder since the minute we met.”

“What?” I hang a wounded expression on my face. “I don’t have a problem with you.”

“No?” He scowls. “Then why’d you give me that dig a minute ago, huh?”

Still doing my best to look like I have no idea what he’s talking about, I say, “You said you were nervous about the game and that surprised me. I mean, coming from a guy who’s been playing professional hockey a long time. It wasn’t meant as a criticism. I was just surprised to hear you get anxious. That’s all. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He narrows his eyes, but the doors open. We’re forced to end our conversation because Coach sees us and waves us over. Caldwell avoids standing near me, choosing instead to go hang out near Niko. I have to hide my smirk. Poor baby didn’t get his ego stroked, so now he’s running away.

I almost laugh when he shoots me a frustrated glance. He’s probably confused and feeling gaslighted right about now. He wants to believe that I meant no harm. I already know he craves people’s approval. I knew that the first time we played drills together.

To toy with him further, I smile when he glances over again. He looks surprised, confused. But he smiles back. Of course he does. He needs me to be his pal. He needs me to like him, so that his little ego is soothed.

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