Page 47 of Heart Taker

My confession to Selwin had cracked open the door to all the “what if” scenarios about my sexuality, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to close it again. Or, that I’d know what to do if it turned out I was bi.

Silas and I stared at each other for a long moment, neither one of us looking anywhere else.

His gaze burned through my reserve and the only question that kept replaying in my head was why now? Why him?

“Hey, Coach!”

I jolted and turned around to find Dane on the other side of the boards.

“Yes?”

“Someone’s waiting by your office. A woman named Eloise. She said she needs to talk to you.”

Talk about timing. What the fuck was my ex-wife doing here?

“I’ll be right there. You get the rest of the guys and continue with the drills.”

Dane nodded and stalked off.

“Eloise… is that your wife?” Silas asked as he slid beside me, shoulder to shoulder.

Too close. The smell of his sweat had my heart thumping harder.

“Ex, yeah.” I paused and stared at him. “Wait. How did you know that?”

“I read up on your time in the league. Sounded like you two had a nasty split.”

“You could say that. Eloise loves the spotlight,” I admitted. Silas knew more about me than I knew about him and being vulnerable normally made me hold tighter to myself. For some reason, though, I kept on talking. “She only contacts me when she wants something. Money, usually.”

“That’s cold. And it confirms why I don’t do relationships.”

“For once, we agree on something.”

Me and my big mouth. Why was I unloading all this to one of my players? The word “inappropriate” came to mind but it was too freaking late.

Do something. Change the topic.

I pointed to his head.

“Can I borrow your helmet?”

“You need protection that badly?” He smirked.

“You have no idea.”

Leaving a chuckling Silas behind, I headed for the boards, put my guards on, and wandered down the hallway to my office.

Sure enough, Eloise was standing there, leaning against the wall in one of her designer pantsuits, her phone in hand, her face an unreadable expression. Her brunette hair was shorter now, styled in a chic bob, and conversely, her nails were longer and painted a vivid coral red to match her lipstick. There was no doubt she was a beautiful woman, but outward appearances didn’t tell the whole story.

During the divorce proceedings, and to this day, Eloise harped on the fact that I was the sole cause of our breakdown. I disagreed. Sure, I played my part. I was in a deep depression after my accident, and there were many times when I couldn’t communicate with her about how I was feeling. I owned that. But to be fair, she only ever asked mewhenI was going to go back to hockey, not if. Like I hadn’t wrecked my future alongwith my knee. I was the one who was in constant pain, enduring surgery after surgery, and I was the one who had to deal with the fact that my career as a player was done. Yes, I was a cold asshole at times, but I was hurting. The shock of the injury lasted long after I was carted off the ice. It was months and months of denial, anger, and finally, therapy. Unfortunately, her concern was never about my health, it was about losing her status as a WAG, and the bank balance that came with it. Six months after I shattered my knee, when she finally realized I’d never return to the ice, she was done. With me, and our marriage.

And I thought I was cold…

“What are you doing here?” I launched the first shot.

“Nice to see you too, Damien.”

“I wish I could say the same. My question stands, what do you want?”

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