Page 3 of False Play
And, man, did I like being burned by her.
It was a fucking shame she was engaged.
Though single or not, I knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. The woman couldn’t stand me. But a man could always dream.
“Brad is retiring at the end of the season, so he’s trying to delegate a little more,” she said. “Unlucky for you, this means you get to deal with me.”
“I mean, if it lets us have these lovely interactions, how unlucky can I really be?” I pushed her shoulder with mine playfully.
I was a sucker for moments like these with her. They were rare, but when they happened? I was one happy motherfucker. And God only knew how desperate I was for a hit or two of good old dopamine.
“Very.” She gave me a smug look. Fuck, even her overconfidence was sexy. “Walk me through what happened tonight.”
My stomach tightened.
I liked to think I was a decent guy. Granted, being the one who started the fight didn’t exactly put me in the best light, but I still had my good traits. I may have been a cocky son of a bitch—I’d never deny it—but there was more underneath. I was a son, a brother, and a good friend. I was the kind of man who would put his life on the line for the people I cared about.
And that’s exactly what I was doing.
I’d promised my twin sister, Olivia, that I wouldn’t meddle in her business and told her she had nothing to worry about. I could be a little overprotective when it came to her. And if you ever met Olivia, you’d know she didn’t need protecting, but I didn’t give a fuck.
In my eyes, she’d always be my little sister. That’s the curse she got for being born two minutes later.
Still, I had every intention of keeping my word. But then Holt had to open his big, fat, stupid mouth and say some pretty nasty shit about her—stuff I refused to even voice out loud.
He was needling me, and I fell for it, hook, line,andsinker.
So, I broke his nose. And his jaw, too, I think. The details were…somewhat hazy. All I knew was I saw red, and not even God himself could have pulled me off the prick. I still don’t know how the refs and my teammates managed to push me back. It was all a blur.
Was I proud of what I had done? People who thought they knew me probably thought I was.
But deep down? No. I wasn’t. Far from it.
“Holt said some pretty nasty shit, so I hit him.”
“What did he exactly say?” she pressed.
I shrugged, opting for silence. Details were a whole other thing I didn’t need—or want—to get into.
“Anderson,” she groaned. “Players talk shit on the ice all the time.EspeciallyHolt.”
I scoffed. I knew that. Hell, every team in the league knew that. “So?”
“What do you meanso?” she asked, aggravated. “We’re in this situation because you couldn’t keep your head cool, so now you have tofix it.” She let out a long, tired sigh. “This is what we’re going to do, when the reporters ask you what happened, you’re going to say you were having an off night, and then you’re going to apologize.”
I threw my head back with a sharp laugh. “Good one.”
“Does itlooklike I’m joking?”
“I’m not publicly apologizing to anyone. I have a reputation to maintain, need I remind you,” I quipped.
“Oh.” She snorted a dry laugh as she settled her eyes on me with an exasperated look. “Trust me,I know. God forbid you taint the reputation you’ve workedsohard for.”
She wasn’t wrong. My early years were all about proving I belonged, with a cocky smirk plastered on my face and a fistfight or two to seal the deal. Back then, they called methe young, wild rookie.Now? They had rebranded me asthe pretty-as-sin bad boy. It was catchy, I’d give them that.
And just so we’re clear, this wasn’t me having some sort of god complex. Those were theexactwords fromSports Illustratedwhen they crowned me as one of the hottest hockey players the previous year.
God, I sound like such an asshole right now, don’t I? Let me just go ahead and shut the fuck up before I dig this hole any deeper.
