Page 30 of Devil on Skates
No one brings up my dad, or Keith, or the hockey team. Here, I’m just Irina and not some accessory to someone else’s ambitions. It feels amazing... and sad. It’s so rare that I almost can’t believe it’s real.
I lose count of the shots. The room starts to tilt when I move, and my usual filters disappear. My brain warns me that Xavier might still be around, but the drunk me doesn’t care. Let him see his games didn’t break me.
For once, I’m not obsessing about every move I make or worrying about what people think. I’m just here, completely free.
The feeling is intoxicating, even more than the vodka. Is this what Xavier meant by being truly alive? Just living in the moment, without all the rules?
I scan the room, half-expecting to see him lurking in some shadowy corner and waiting for the right moment to strike again.
There’s no sign of him, but even though he’s not here, he’s still messing with my head.
“I need some air,” I mutter, pushing my way outside, but I don’t even know where I’m going.
There’s only one thought on my mind.
I didn’t want Xavier to break me, but maybe it’s too late anyway, because I’m already broken.
Chapter 14
XAVIER
I’VE BEEN PACING AROUNDfor the last hour, looking for Irina without making it obvious and trying not to seem desperate.
Did she leave with Keith after all? Did she call someone else to come get her? The more time passes, the more I realize none of this is going how I thought it would. And that’s frustrating.
I go toward the kitchen and take a look inside, even though I’ve done it countless times before.
She’s slumped against the counter near the fridge, her hair messy, her eyes kind of glazed, as she tries to keep up a conversation with Hunter.
He’s our team’s third-line defenseman, known for being aggressive both on the ice and when going after drunk girls. He’s way too close to her, his arm braced on the counter next to her, his hand on her waist.
She weakly pushes at his chest, shaking her head, and he leans in despite her clear discomfort. I realize what’s going on.
She’s hammered, and he’s trying to take advantage.
Something fierce and protective kicks in me, my control snapping. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m across the kitchen and grabbing Hunter by the shoulders, spinning him away from her.
“What the fuck?” He stumbles, trying to keep his balance.
I don’t answer, just look at Irina. Her eyes widen, relief flickering in them before she returns to her drunken stupor, her cheeks flushed.
“Find your own, Gallagher,” Hunter says. “Coach’s daughter’s wasted and game.”
Fury rises inside me, and I shove him hard enough that he hits the wall with a thud. I pin him to the spot with my forearm against his neck while people gather around us.
“What’s wrong with you?” I growl. “She can barely stand, and you think that’s your chance?”
He blinks at me. “Since when do you care? She’s Coach’s daughter, and this is the perfect no-consequences hookup.” His lips curl into a smirk. “Are you trying to become Coach’s pet? Protecting his little girl for more ice time?”
I don’t even think. I just punch him in the jaw. My knuckles sting, but it feels good.
Hunter shakes it off, swinging back and grazing my cheek. I taste blood, and it only enrages me more.
I lunge at him, slamming him against the wall again. As he swings at me, I duck and grab him by the shirt. My punch lands on his nose, and I hear a crack. Hunter cries out, blood spraying everywhere.
He tries to hit me again, but I drive my fist into his side, making him double over.
“She’s not just Coach’s daughter,” I say through clenched teeth, pulling him up and landing another blow. “And she’s not your damn plaything.”
