Page 159 of Tangled up in You

Wyatt, or at least that’s what he thought Julian called him, flipped Julian off then flicked his fingers in Trent’s face. “Go play in traffic, asshole.”

Archer liked him. What he didn’t like was the fact Wyatt went right to Sasha. Once the door closed behind him, Archer turned his furious gaze on Trent then Julian. “Whatever the fuck is going on here, you’re not staying. He pointed at Trent. “We know what you did that day. We’ve always known. I’ll be damned if you’re allowed anywhere near Sasha.”

“Doesn’t look like any of you have a choice,” he said. “Besides we’re teammates now. I’d hate if Coach found out what’s happening here. Wouldn’t be very team spirit of you, kicking me out.”

Archer gritted his teeth.Motherfucker!Coach Jones was also Trent’s coach when Sasha got hurt. “Find a fucking room and stay there. We have the second biggest room with the two queen beds.”

Brody ran up the stairs with his gear and put it into their room, claiming it officially. “Damn, bro. Look outside.”

Archer cut his gaze toward the glass wall overlooking the town and the mountains. The snow was really coming down. If he had to guess, there was already a foot of snow on the ground.Damn.“Looks like the reports were right.”

“And we’re snowed in,” Trent chuckled. “I’m going to have so much fun this weekend.”

CHAPTER 3

“You want to talk about it?” Wyatt said, joining Sasha in the room. The click of the lock brought her some comfort. But if Trent wanted to hurt her, a door lock wouldn’t keep him out. The injury on the ice proved how diabolical he could be.

“I don’t even know if there is anything to say,” she whispered, swiping at her eyes when the scenery became blurry.

“You could tell me about the guy who looked like he found his lost best friend, for starters,” he muttered, sitting beside her. The warmth of his body engulfed her, pushing back the chill trying to consume her.

“That’s Archer,” she said, nuzzling his chest. “He’s one of the good guys. Same with Brody and Cam.” She let out a shaky breath. “Ten years... I have missed them every day.”

“These are the guys, then? Your friends from Hockey?” Wyatt rubbed her arm in a soothing manner.

“Yep. The best friends a girl could ask for.”

“You don’t sound happy to see them,” he murmured.

“I am. It’s not them that has me like this...” The second she saw Trent’s face; she went into shutdown mode. Her heartpounded. Her palms dampened. Every time she inhaled; a sharp pain lanced her chest. Even her hands trembled.

“That big asshole,” Wyatt said. “Trent, is what Archer called him, right?”

She nodded. “He’s the one...” She swallowed hard as her mouth filled with saliva. “Oh, fuck.” Sasha ran for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before she puked.

Because they’d left late, and they’d been stuck in traffic, she had eaten little of her lunch, so puking hurt like fuck. Icy dread raced down her spine as she lurched, vomiting more of the bile mixed with coffee and an omelet.

Wyatt was by her side in an instant. He closed the exterior door of the bathroom to give her another layer of privacy. “Shit, babe. You going to be okay?”

No.

Yes.

It was complicated.

When she was sure she wouldn’t puke again, she flushed the toilet and pushed herself into the corner of the bathroom, laying her head against her knees. “Eventually.” Sasha hated the raw, ragged sound of her voice. “He’s the one who messed my knee up so bad, I couldn’t play hockey ever again.”

“Rivalries,” Wyatt said, as if understanding her situation.

“Not even close,” she mumbled. “Try, he didn’t like girls playing in the boys’ league. So, he was teaching me a lesson.”

The color leached from Wyatt’s face before rage darkened his mercury gaze. “Him. He’s the reason. That motherfucker. I’ll kill him.”

She snorted. “From the look Archer threw him, I think you might have to get into line.” Seeing Archer again was a whole other kettle of fish.

He looked good. Really damn good. They weren’t kids anymore, that’s for sure. He stood at least a good six inchestaller than her, bulky to boot, but she’d seen him flex when he stared at her, and he was muscular. Archer had tattoos, too. The colorful designs she hadn’t taken the time to appreciate covered his forearms. His auburn hair brushed his forehead, giving him a boyish charm while also giving that ruggedness only someone who beat himself up day in and day out on the ice could have.

“Well, at least I’m in good company there,” Wyatt said, scooting closer to her.

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