Page 107 of Frozen Hearts
“I need all the help I can get, though,” Logan continues. “We all know I’ve been off my game since… you know. Even Coach called me on it, and if I don’t improve soon, I will end up benched for the rest of the season. Which will be the least of my concerns if we don’t make it to the Frozen Four and I don’t get a pro contract.”
Well, fuck, when he puts it like that…
Royce clearly feels the same as we share a pained,what the fuck can we do?glance.
Warring internally with myself, I eventually grit my teeth and sigh. “Fine,” I reluctantly agree. “She can come with us.” Fuck me. This issonot what I had in mind when I was installing that stripper pole. “But win or lose, the three of us meet back here tomorrow night afterward.”
“Yeah, man, whatever you want,” Logan says, looking lighter than he has since I got home as he pushes to his feet and grins at me before walking away. “I gotta get my workout in before tonight’s festivities begin.”
Royce holds my gaze, patiently waiting until Logan’s footsteps have faded before asking, “You sure you can handle that?”
“Do I have a fucking choice?” I grumble, dropping into Logan’s vacant barstool. “It’s not like I could have said no to him.”
He nods, agreeing.
“Still. Not exactly the sex slave ideal you were spouting last night.”
“Tell me about it. She’s supposed to be our prisoner, not a fucking ride-along.” Sighing, I confess, “I’m worried about him.”
“Are you worried she’ll be at his game and he’ll play like shit, or that she’ll be there and he’ll play as well as he did last time?”
Well, fuck. The asshole knows me too well.
I glare at his astute insight. Of course, I want Logan to win his game. To take his team to the Frozen Four and get a pro contract. I want all of that for him. But doessheseriously have to be the magical fucking charm that helps him obtain all of that? What was wrong with relying on his lucky puck? It’s gotten him this far in his career!
Chuckling when I don’t deign to answer him, Royce changes the topic. “So… Which one of us is breaking the news to Babydoll?”
Arching my eyebrow at his nickname for her, I deadpan, “Unless we’re humiliating her, I’m not going anywhere fucking near her.” Before he can argue, I’m out of my chair and storming from the room, my head a chaotic mess of pent-up aggression and frustration.
“Guess that leaves me to break the news to her then,” the asshole calls after me. “Awesome. Excellent chat, dude. Let’s do this again.” Giving him the bird over my shoulder, I stomp up the stairs, intending to go straight to my room on the third floor and remain there until Logan’s done with his workout and we can finally start messing with Riley.
However, my steps involuntarily slow as I pass her closed door until they stop altogether and I’m left contemplating what she’s doing right now. What she’s thinking.
An exhilaration like nothing I’ve felt thrums through my veins at the possibility of storming in there and seeing her, eyes wild with fright at my presence. I used to get a similar feeling when I’d walk into the kitchen and see her there, or when we’d sit down for the occasional family dinner. Only now, sharp thorns have wrapped their way around that feeling, tightening and stabbing at it until it turned into something darker. Something twisted.
I once wanted to know what it would be like to kiss her. To worship her skin with my lips and feel her quivering between my thighs.
Now…
Now, I want to destroy her. To force her to feel this ugliness that has consumed me since the day she turned my world upside down.
Before I know it, my hand is wrapped around the handle, and I throw the door open with enough force that it ricochets off the wall. She jumps off the couch, eyes wide, just like I pictured.
I take a second to roam my eyes over her. Noting that she’s no longer restrained to the stripper pole. No doubt that is Logan’s doing. Sentimental idiot. However, she has changed out of her jeans and top from the night before. One of Logan’s T-shirts drowns her, hiding her curvy figure and falling to just above her knees.
After a second, when I make no move toward her, she deflates slightly, that wild-eyed expression dimming as she collapses back onto the couch. She brings her legs up, wrapping her arms around them as she continues to watch me warily.
“Ready to confess?”
Unflinching, she stares right back. “I can’t confess to a crime I haven’t committed.”
I scoff. “We both know that’s not the truth. Why don’t you just own up to what you did and this can all end.”
She perks up, and I know I’ve got her.
“You’re saying, if I come clean, you’ll let me go? You’ll leave me in peace to finish out the rest of the year? No stalking me on campus, no sending Royce to watch me at the club, no Logan picking me up after work.”
Huh. Apparently, my boys have been keeping secrets. Think the three of us need to sit down and have a family meeting.
