Page 20 of Snapping the Ice
“Of course.” He patted my shoulder with his gloved hand. “You know you can count on me.” His gaze turned hard. “I hate dudes who abuse their partners, no matter their sexuality. It shouldn’t happen.”
“Photo shoots end today, right?” I eyed him. I planned on heading to the studio today, if possible. But it might appear odd if someone was there.
“Yeah. I think he scheduled Addison and Petrov for today. Are you going over there again?”
“I don’t know. Every time I do, Tate shows up and gets nasty.” My chest heated, and I scowled. “I don’t want to make things worse for Ezra.” Would he break up with Tate today? We needed a plan for it first.
“So, what are you going to do?” He narrowed his eyes.
“I’ll text him and see what’s up. He told me he wanted toend it with him.” I shifted, my gaze snagging on Coach, skating toward us. “Fuck, here comes Coach.”
“We’re supposed to be practicing our drills.” Crosby huffed a chuckle.
“Boys, what’s with the deep conversation? Is there something I should know?” Coach Sullivan skidded to a stop in front of us. “Hopkins, you need to focus. You’re too distracted.”
“I know, Coach.” With a sigh, I grabbed the puck from Crosby and skated toward the pucks set up in a line on the ice. Fuck me, I had to stop obsessing over Ezra. “Let’s do this.” I halted with the puck.
Crosby skated across from me. “You got this, Hopkins.”
After practice, I put up a valiant fight to not go directly to Ezra’s studio. I needed to eat anyway, and I’d driven Crosby to practice today. I followed him into our apartment and closed the door. “What’s for lunch?” I asked, passing him in the kitchen.
“We have leftover chicken and rice.” He pulled a large container from the refrigerator.
“Perfect.” I dropped my duffel onto my bedroom floor and fished my phone from the pocket of my athletic shorts. I’d text Ezra to see how he’s doing.
Lucas
Hey, it’s Lucas. How are you today? Did Tate show up after I left?
I chewed the side of my lower lip. What if I didn’t hear from him? Should I assume he was in trouble? Fuck.
The microwave timer dinged, and I strolled into our open kitchen. “I texted Ezra.” Setting my phone on our quartzcountertop, I spooned chicken and rice onto a plate Evan had left for me. “What time were the photo shoots today?”
“I assume the same time as ours, so maybe around now and this afternoon?” He slid a plate of food across the island counter and dropped into one of two black metal barstools, then hunkered over his plate. “Hey, will you grab me a Gatorade?”
“Sure.” I stuffed my plate into the microwave, started it and peeked at my phone. Ezra hadn’t gotten back to me yet. Fuck, how long was I willing to wait? I grabbed two Gatorades from the refrigerator and handed one to Evan.
The timer went off, and I pulled my food out. We’d prepared this for dinner a few nights ago and it had been delicious. Evan had seasoned the chicken with Caribbean jerk spice and sun-dried tomatoes. After grabbing a fork, I set my plate and drink next to Evan’s and sat beside him.
“You know you may be inserting yourself into a real mess.” Evan shoveled chicken into his mouth. “You don’t even know this guy.”
“I know enough.” I ate some food, the spice heating my mouth. “He needs help, Evan.” I sipped my drink. Ezra had even said so, right?
“I get wanting to help someone who’s in trouble.” He ate more food and chewed. “But I’ve been thinking about this. A lot of times, abuse victims say they want to get out, but they don’t follow through or they’re too scared.”
“What?” Knitting my brows, I stared at him. “He wants out, believe me.” I glanced at my phone. What if I never heard from him again?
“Okay, I’m sure he does. If he takes the asshole back, what will you do? These abusers can be super manipulative.” Cocking a brow, he drank some Gatorade.
“I-I don’t know.” Fuck. He was right. I stared at my food,my hunger waning. I needed to get my mind off this situation. “Hey, what do you think about the game next week?”
“Against the Vegas Aces? We’re going to smoke them.” With a chuckle, he shook his head. “No contest.”
My phone buzzed.
“Fuck.” I scrambled to snatch my phone, fumbled it and held it to my face. It was Ezra.
“Jesus, Lucas. Settle down.” Evan tsked.
