Page 33 of Crossing the Top Line

My throat tightens as I try to take a deep breath, but even as I blink away the tears threatening to fall, I can see flashes of my past behind my eyes. The empty nest. The bright white walls of the emergency room. The needles. The restraints. The taste of metal on the back of my tongue.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Spencer Black. It’s not going to work. I’m not going to let you manipulate and lie to me ever again. So, you can just leave me alone. I can be a professional and do my job without needing to act like we’re childhood besties,” I state, voice cold but thankfully steady.

I need to get out of my head, away from the roaring wave looming in the distance, threatening to drag me under. Spencer might be too stunned to react, but I manage to get around his bulky frame and make it four steps toward Bourbon Street before he catches up and grabs my wrist, pulling me to a stop.

“And what about Eli and Oli? Am I supposed to sit around and watch you flirt with them? Or am I supposed to leave my own house whenever you want to drop by—”

I let out a shriek of frustration, whipping back around to face him. “That’s not my problem! You have no claim to me and have no right to make any demands of me, especially when it comes to my personal life. I owe younothing. Not an explanation, not forgiveness, and certainly not my good favor.”

I try to pull my hand free, but he holds tighter, tugging me a step closer and throwing me off balance for a moment. His face twists in anger, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. I can see his eyes better now that he’s facing the street, and I’m stunned to silence by the strange distance in them. Like he’s not looking at me, but rather through me, into some other time or place. It’s enough to cool the flame of my anger for a moment, my omega instincts fighting to surface and soothe.

“You can’t expect me to be okay with this. With you butting into my relationships with my teammates. I have to be out on the ice with them every day for the next six months. I have to sleep under the same roof as them. We have to trust each other, and you’re asking me to throw that away?”

I open my mouth, alarm bells ringing in the back of my mind. All of a sudden, this feels like we’re talking about more than the complicated past we share. I don’t get a chance to speak, or move, his fist closing tighter around my wrist, almost to the point of pain.

“God, I thought I was going to get a fresh start here, but this is just like the Wardens. Do this. Don’t smile too much. Do your job. Don’t complain. I said jump, why aren’t you asking how high. This is not why I wanted to play in the NHL,” Spencer continues, but I don’t think he’s really speaking to me anymore.

“What are you talking about? Spencer, you’re not making any sense,” I ask, words low in a cautious murmur.

His eyes snap to mine, suddenly clear and focused. My breath catches, and I swallow hard as I freeze, not sure what to do next.

“I asked for roommates because I was sick of living alone. For five fucking years, I went home alone to an empty apartment after every game and practice. Never going out with my teammates. Never being invited to barbecues. Or bar crawls. And when I came here, I was lucky enough to find a couple of guys who tolerate me, and—”

He stops, straightening his spine. Something slips over his face, and he’s suddenly stoney, no ounce of feeling behind his eyes despite the small lift to the corner of his lips. He drops my wrist and shakes his head. I open and close my mouth several times, too stunned by the shift in his demeanor to form a coherent sentence.

“You know what, fuck it. You don’t owe me any explanations, and I don’t owe you any either,” he finishes.

And then he just starts walking away, like nothing ever happened. My brain finally comes back online, and I let out another frustrated growl.

“Fine! Walk away. Like you always do,” I throw at his retreating back.

He pauses at the mouth of the alley, turning to look back over his shoulder at me. The low light doesn’t do me any favors, but I swear for a moment he flinches, a deep sadness filling his eyes before it’s gone. Smothered by whatever mask he’s pulled down over his emotions.

“I’m going home. Have a good night, Tori.”

He doesn’t even wait long enough to hear a response, turning and walking away from the club down Bourbon Street. I jog the few strides out onto the street, and despite his height and distinctive build, he’s somehow managed to disappear into the crowd. My mind is a riot of emotions and thoughts, all of which seem to be growing by the moment. His words echo in my head, mixing with the memories of what happened six years ago until I can’t stand it.

I need a distraction. Now.

I spin on my heel and head back into the club and straight to the bar. Lucky for me, the perfect distraction is already there waiting for me.

His near-white eyes light up as he turns to face me, that wide smile showing off his missing incisor in the flashing lights of the club.

“Let’s do shots, Eli.”

Idon’twanttoalarm anyone, but I think I’m in love, and it’s only been one dance.

Oliver gets on my case about everything, especially the way I handle my romantic relationships. But I was raised by love-at-first-sight soulmates, and they always used to say that when you meet the right person, things just…click.

And with Tori Strauss, there are more clicks than a metronome on cocaine.

She’s pressed against me in the hot, sweaty mass on the dance floor, and with her heels, she’s the exact right height to lay her head all the way back against my shoulder, the curves of her body soft and supple under my hands. I can’t stop touching her, though I keep my hands from wandering too far in public. But she’s so soft and warm and…perfect.

Yep, it’s official. Someone call a doctor, because I’ve been bitten by the love bug, and I’m afraid the case is terminal.

I look up in time to see someone pressing their way through the crowd, and I recognize Rachel, Tori’s coworker, moving my hands to rest innocently on either side of Tori’s waist.

“Hey! I’m going to head out!” Rachel shouts, swaying dangerously on her feet.

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