Page 81 of Pucking Revenge

“Hey!” War yells. “What the fuck, man?”

At the sound of his voice, I deflate. Shoulders slumped, I heave myself against the wall, panting, but I can’t find it in me to respond.

War hovers in front of me, a concerned frown marring his features. “Breathe, Brooks. Breathe.” He instructs me to inhale and hold it while he counts to four, then he tells me to exhale and counts again.

I obey, focusing on his voice, using it to anchor me to the moment.

When my vision clears, I tip my head back. War is still standing in front of me, but now he’s holding out a bottle of water.

My energy is sapped. There’s no fight left in me. I honestly have no idea how I’m going to play tonight. I chug the water, then duck my head. The angry heat that fueled me has now turned into embarrassment. My face is hot, my chest tight. Dammit. Why do I let him affect me like this? I can’t continue to work with him. Especially after his comment today. But he isn’t any closer to leaving. If he doesn’t, then should I? Do I have it in me to quit the team?

“You need to talk to me.” War’s voice leaves nothing up for discussion.

He’s right. I need to talk to someone. So I slide to the floor and hang my head. When he settles next to me, the words pour out. I tell him everything. My uncle’s betrayal. Sara’s devastation. The fake relationship. All the very real feelings that are now fucking with my head.

“Do you think she feels the same way?” He studies me with real concern in his eyes.

I run my hands through my hair. “I have no fucking idea. But as much as I hate him, Coach isn’t even wrong. If someone had seen her—” I shake my head. What the fuck was I thinking fucking around with her in public?

War nods. “You’ve always held a torch for the girl. Don’t—” He lets out a long breath and shifts so he’s facing me head-on. “This could just be sex for her, Brooks. And she’s your friend.”

My heart pangs at the thought. “My best friend,” I retort.

War’s response is an arched brow.

“Okay,” I laugh, feeling a fraction lighter and thankful for the levity. “You’re up there too.”

“But you don’t want to fuck me,” he drolls.

Another wave of anxiety has me doubling over. “I know what you’re saying. It’s just—when I’m around her, God, she’s everything, War. Everything I’ve ever fucking wanted. And now I’m allowed to touch her. Allowed to kiss her. How am I supposed to stop?”

He drops his head back against the cinderblock wall. “You need to talk to her. Figure out where she stands before you go any further. I’ve never seen you like this, man.” He roughs a hand down his face. “You’re the most levelheaded guy I know. Hell, you’re probably the only virgin hockey player in the entire league.”

I cough out a laugh and swipe my hand over my mouth. “NHL and NCAA more likely.”

War smiles. “That’s my point. What’s going on between you and Sara means something to you. You need to make sure it means something to her too.” His smile falls, and his tone turns more serious than I thought he was capable. “And you can’t knock Coach out again. Even if he deserves it.”

I drop my elbows to my knees and slump. He’s not wrong.

“Just take a breather. Focus on the game tonight. Not on what’s going on off the ice.”

It’s a lot easier said than done, but he’s right. The only thing I can do is get my head in the game and play.

TWENTY-NINE

SARA

Me: Good luck tonight. I’ll be the girl in your jersey screaming your name.

Me: Haha that was a joke.

Me: Tough loss. You slipped out while I was still with the press. Want to meet up somewhere?

Brooks: Sorry. I’m tired. Gonna get some rest.

Me: Oh okay. Of course. Lennox invited me to stay at her apartment when we’re in New York, but I thought I’d stay at the hotel. That way we can have some privacy. Thoughts?

Brooks: You should stay with Lennox. You never get to spend time with her.

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