Page 99 of Trust Me

Fuck.

We need to tell him. It’s going to eat at me until we do. I hadn’t felt much guilt so far, but his comment now triggered me, reminding me of why I tried to avoid the temptation in the first place.

Once the grueling drills are over, the boys dripping in sweat, one or two even vomiting, we end the practice. We send the boys to the locker room while Ned and I collect the equipment to drag off the ice before the figure skaters arrive for their ice time.

Once everything is tucked away, we pull out our phones as we walk back toward the hall where our offices are. I see a text from Jasmine, and with my screen brightness turned down low enough, I open it.

I grin, loving that she said our bed. And the tidbit about her being naked? I love that even more.

I open the picture to see that there’s a red pasta sauce stain on the white sheets, right next to her bowl in the middle of the bed. The image makes me smile rather than freak out because I know she did it on purpose.

I put my phone to my chest so fast I barely even saw the image, but what I did see was a picture of her hand between her thighs.

“Everything okay?” Ned asks beside me.

“Yeah.” I swallow. “Just lost a bunch of points in my fantasy league.”

“The worst,” he agrees, his eyes not leaving his phone as he scrolls.

We’re about to part ways into our offices when Ned places his hand on the doorframe of his office, halting his movement. “Shit, our games next weekend changed to accommodate the figure skating competition. I need to go tell the boys.”

I could stay my course, pack up, and head home to Jasmine, but something propels my feet to follow him. “I’ll go with you,” I tell him, falling into step beside him as we make our way to the locker room where the guys are probably showering.

Ned opens the door, the boys’ voices carrying from the change area. I follow him as we make our way there, when their conversation starts to become more clear.

“She’s off the market, man. She’s dating Coach,” Isaiah says, making the hair on my arms fucking stand.

What the fuck?

“I saw her leaving the building with Elio before the Thanksgiving break. It checks out,” McCoy adds.

This is about to go down, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

Ned stops in front of the boys, who are looking at us with wide eyes.

“Say that again for me, Thomas, because I don’t think I heard that correctly,” he seethes, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks up at the ceiling for a deep breath before looking back at Isaiah. “Because what I thought I heard is that my daughter is dating the man behind me. The man I raised as my fucking own. The man who is now my friend and coworker. The man who I explicitly told to stay away from her.”

Isaiah falters, his eyes widening as he looks from Ned to me.

“Uh, sir. I-I don’t want any part of this.” His voice shakes.

“You should’ve thought about that before my daughter’s name came out of your mouth, because now it’s my business and you’re part of that business. Tell me I’m wrong, Thomas. Tell me what you said isn’t true,” he pleads, his voice more tightly wound with anger than I’ve ever heard it before.

Part of me wants to speak up and say something, but I have no idea what the fuck to say.

“I-I can’t do that, sir.” His voice is low as he looks from Ned to me.

I shake my head, not at him, but myself. We should’ve known this was going to happen sooner or later. People talk around campus. It was only a matter of time before this happened.

“There’s picture proof, too.” McCoy smirks, pulling out his phone. “It’s from Thanksgiving. My friend lives in the same town as coach Mazzo did, and he sent me this picture of them outside the ice rink.”

He turns his phone around to us, and he wasn’t lying. It’s a picture, clear as day, of me and Jasmine, her in the SUV as I kiss her. I don’t know how the fuck he got this, but it’s making my blood boil. No one should have any pictures of Jasmine without her consent, let alone an intimate moment like that one.

I yank the phone from his grip and delete the picture while he protests from the bench.

“Shut up, McCoy. If I find you with another picture of her, you’ll be off the team,” Ned snaps, and for a moment, I think it’ll be okay between us, until he turns to me.

Before I can react, Ned has me shoved up against an empty cubby, his arm digging into my chest as he holds me there. His fist rears back before colliding with my lip.

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