Page 106 of What if I Told You

“Fuck no. I want to play. And then I want to kick that guy’s fucking ass for good.”

Coach’s jaw ticks as he looks to me and then up in the stands to Furbling. “He’s drunk, August. Anyone can see that. Get out there and finish the game. Fuck that guy.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. The ice is one of the only places where I can focus. My body knows what to do so my brain can figure out what the absolute fuck just happened.

“Blackstone, you good?” Oliver shouts as I rejoin the team for some endgame action.

“I’m fucking fine!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

AUGUST

I’m so not fine.

Did he mean what he said?

Did he have Ella before I did?

Did they sleep together?

Were they a thing and I didn’t know?

Would she have kept that from me?

“I had her first! And she was a fucking good time!”

I want to make myself believe Furbling was lying to get under my skin. In my mind, there’s no way anything has happened between him and Ella. I would have known. She would have told me back then. We told each other everything.

But Hell! He certainly knows how to get under my skin.

I wish I could talk to Ella. Ask her. Find out the truth so all the whirling emotions fighting each other in my brain would calm the fuck down. I wish I could just grab her and get the fuck out of here, but I can’t yet. We both have responsibilities right after the game. She’s busy upstairs getting pictures taken with fans, and Griffin, Barrett, and I are on tap to sign autographs out on the ice.

As soon as the buzzer sounds, the crowd roars and we celebrate another hard-fought win. We shake hands with the other team even though all I want to do is beat the shit out of every last one of them. I don’t even make eye contact as I move through the line and then I’m off to the tunnel where I hand our equipment manager my gear and wait for Griffin and Barrett. Bear’s the last one off the ice and he looks just as pissy as I feel.

“Let’s get this done and get the fuck out of here,” he says.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Aww, what’s the matter, gentlemen?” Griffin says with a hand on each of our shoulders. “Bad night?”

“Fuck off, Ollenberg,” Bear says to him as we step back out on the ice.

“Hey what happened back there? With the coach?” Griffin asks.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m pissed off enough.”

We skate up to the crowd of people who are in line to have things autographed. Some have t-shirts, some have pictures purchased from the team shop, and some have special personal items they want us to sign. Working our way down the line, I follow Griffin, signing my name to each item held out and saying hello to the fans. I thank them for coming to the game and for their support. Usually this is a fun thing to do after a game but my mind is anywhere but on what I’m doing. This is just a distraction from what I want to be focused on.

All I want to do is find Ella.

And I do.

When a naked picture of her is thrust in front of me.

“Thought you could sign this for me, August. It’s one of my favorites.”

I snap the picture from his hands before I lift my eyes to see Jeff Furbling standing in front of me with a fucking smirk on his face. My nostrils flare and my face heats as I stare back at his ugly face and then glance down at the photo in my hands. Inside my stomach is churning and every person standing here for an autograph has turned to shadow. I can’t focus on anything or anyone.

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