Page 42 of The Rebel (Looking to Score 1)
I wonder about how she’s doing, but she’s currently meeting behind closed doors with Les, which is why I’m biding my time with the guys, when all I want to do is check on Eden. She knows as well as I do, the best way to get revenge on her vocal critics is success—which means winning games. She was so worried last night, but what I told her is the truth.
It’s the players’ jobs to score goals and win games. Eden’s job is to run the franchise and handle the finances, something she’s uniquely prepared to do, given her education and training. I’m hoping it’s only a minor setback in what will end up being a very successful season for her.
Although, I can’t help but wonder if what’s been happening between us distracted her from her role in some way. But that couldn’t be it, could it? Things last night spiraled out of control—in all the best ways—but we haven’t had any time together today, so I can only imagine what she might be thinking.
Does she regret it? I feel a lot of things about last night, but regret isn’t one of them.
“That Sharpe fucker needs to go down,” one of the players grumbles.
Patrice Sharpe is one of the most celebrated members of Detroit’s starting line. He scored twice tonight, ruining the Titans’ chances for a comeback since they couldn’t seem to get the puck to the net at all in the third period. It was a joke. They looked like shit. But like I said, the last thing I feel is sympathetic. Most of them are overpaid divas as far as I’m concerned.
Saint stands and tosses a damp towel in a large basket in the center of the room. “It’s in the past. We’ve got to put it out of our heads. Got another chance tomorrow.”
He isn’t the captain, but as I look up and glance around the room, I can see that though he’s young, he’s respected by the team.
A few more thoughts are shared on their loss, but I have little interest. I watch the door on the side of the room, waiting for it to open, but it doesn’t. Most of the guys have filtered out of the room. Alex Braun remains, and so do Saint and the heavily bearded Reeves. I try to focus on something on my phone, but I’m on edge and irritated.
“We can’t afford to be distracted like that again,” Saint says with a cocky smirk.
“You fuckers were entertaining those puck bunnies well past midnight,” Reeves grumbles. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”
Saint raises both hands. “That was Braun’s idea.”
My stomach sours.
Eden is in that room, feeling like shit—probably crying her eyes out to Les—all because Alex fucking Braun decided he needed to get laid last night and couldn’t do his damn job on the ice.
Alex saunters past us, headed for the exit, freshly showered and dressed in a wrinkle-free navy-blue suit. Without thinking, I rise quickly and intercept him in the hallway, letting the heavy door thud closed behind us.
“What the—” Alex sputters as I press into his personal space.
I curse under my breath and shove one of his shoulders against the cinderblock wall. “I just overheard something about you and the guys who were entertaining late last night.”
He glares at me. “So?”
“So, when you fuck up the game because of your extracurriculars, it catches people’s attention.”
“How exactly is that any of your business?” Alex gives me a shove, and I take a step back.
“Because you need to keep things discreet. And if you ever cared about Eden, you need to stop this. Word is going to get out, and you’re going to ruin any chance you had at a friendship with her.”
He scoffs at this. “I doubt we’re on track to be besties, anyway. Pretty sure she hates me.”
My fists clench at my sides, and I’m sure there’s a vein throbbing in my neck. “You’re going to publicly humiliate her. Be more discreet or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“What are you, her babysitter now?”
“No, just a friend.”
He smirks, giving me a self-satisfied look. “Right. A friend who’s on the payroll. Got it. Just don’t forget that, Rossi.” He takes a menacing step closer. “Don’t forget that the only reason why she wants you around is because you’re an employee here. You’re not her friend.”
His personality and mine just don’t mix. We’ll never see eye to eye, and that’s fine with me. But if he still thinks of Eden as a toy he doesn’t want anyone else to play with, we’re going to have a big fucking problem. She’s capable of deciding who she wants to share her time and her body with, and even if that guy isn’t me, the choice is still hers. Alex holds no claim over her anymore.
