Page 13 of On the Edge of Scandal

That’s cool. I totally do not have an image in my mind of the two of us in bed, Bronwyn’s head on my chest, her hair falling over my shoulder in soft waves, her hand on my ribcage and her knee hitched up on my thigh as I bend to kiss the top of her head. Nope. No naked Bronwyn and Ash in my brain at all.

“But could you sleep here?”

Could I? Technically, yes, it is physically possible for me to do so, and I’d like nothing better. Should I? Absolutely not. Will I? Palm, meet forehead. Repeatedly.

If this were a different time, a different place, I might be able to give in and still look myself in the mirror in the morning, but as things are . . .

I take a hard swallow because I feel like a dickwad for disappointing her, but this really is for the best. “Let me ask you something.”

“Okay?”

“What would happen if one of your teammates busted in here in the early hours and saw me here? What would happen if the press somehow got wind of this and rumors ended up splashed all over the gossip blogs?”

She goes even paler, and I hate myself.Should’ve just said yes, and fuck the consequences. Then you’d be tucking her into bed instead of making her look like she’s going to burst into tears again.But something must click in her head because she nods, slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry I asked you. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I reach out and rub her arm, enjoying the contact too much. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to be alone. If you need me, call. I’m in the next building over. But I don’t think it would be good for either of us if there was talk.”

If she hadn’t just broken up with Brody, I’d worry about it less, but he’s a sleazebucket. An immature, selfish sleazebucket who no doubt has a vendetta against Bronwyn for humiliating him. If he got wind of this, he’d do his best to blow it up into a huge scandal, and I don’t want that for either of us. So I’ll go back to my own room and try not to worry too much about Bronwyn and if she’s okay.Good luck with that, Levenson.

Chapter Nine

Bronwyn

I’ve only gotten a concussion once in my entire hockey career, and that was in high school. Some girl who’d been playing on a boys’ team until she got to prep school checked me really fucking hard, and her shoulder slammed my head up against the boards. Yeah, I had a helmet on, but I’d felt sick, and dizzy, and I can’t swear I hadn’t lost consciousness for a few seconds. It was ugly. If anyone had told me that a massive hangover would feel exactly like that, I never would’ve gotten shitfaced at Icing last night.

As I sit up and smack my phone until the alarm shuts off, the whole thing comes flooding back. The shots. More shots. Still more shots—Jesus, I’m lucky I don’t have alcohol poisoning. And then the puking in the bar bathroom and then calling—oh, shit. I called Ash. No, I can’t call him Ash anymore.Coach.Calling him Ash was just for keeping up a pretense in case anyone saw us. Just another good guy helping a drunk girl back to her hotel room after a night of hard partying at the SIGs. Then I puked right in front of him. I’d like to say at least I didn’t get any on him, but I can’t even say that for sure. I’m the worst. The absolute worst.

And then did I—? Oh my god. I drop my head into my hands and groan. I did, didn’t I? I asked my coach to sleep over after I puked on him. Even if he doesn’t kick me off the team, he’s never going to look me in the face again.

I struggle off my bed and make my way to the bathroom. Inside, there’s no evidence of any vomiting, so either I got it all in the toilet or—fuck me—he cleaned it up. I’m not sure which is upsetting my stomach more, the leftover alcohol or the humiliation. Noxious cocktail right there.

The funny thing, though, is that getting fucked up is the only thing I regret. I don’t regret telling Brody no, and I don’t wish I could take back how it happened. It’s not how I would’ve liked things to have gone down, but it’s also not like he gave me a choice in the matter. It was his choice to ask me in public, his choice to invite a fucking camera crew. If he’d, I don’t know,askedme, I could’ve saved him some trouble.

No, the only thing I’m sorry about besides my ill-advised number of shots is that I involved Ash—Coach—and risked getting him in trouble. I can’t imagine gossip wouldn’t have started if anyone saw him basically carrying me out of the bar. But also, I have a vague sensation of remorse for not having broken up with Brody sooner.

Yes, Brody has been a huge part of my life for a really long time and it’s weird not to have him around . . . Okay, more than weird. It’s downright disturbing. Although when I’d been with Ash last night, I hadn’t felt disturbed. I’d felt safe, cared for. A warm, glowy sensation—which is what had made me ask him to stay.

I like him all the better for saying no. Although I maybe had some dreams about if he had stayed, and they got pretty inappropriate. Which is weird, because I’ve never really thought of Ash like that. Although, yes, fine, now I can see how some of my teammates could have a crush on him. If he’d played hero to one of them, they probably would’ve swooned. And if they knew how good it felt to be held by him . . .

The HVAC in my room has been pretty good, but maybe they cranked up the heat this morning? Because it’s feeling a little warm in here. Maybe I should call facilities about it. For now, though, I need to get a move on, so I crank the water in the shower, making it cooler than I normally would because the cold will snap me out of some of this stupor. I gasp as I step in, and goosebumps immediately spring up all over my body.

In a moment I remember very clearly, Ash—Coach,dammit—said I could make this up to him by not letting the team know I’m hungover. I sure as hell have my work cut out for me. A cold shower is a good first step, brushing my teeth like whoa, and dammit, eating a good hearty breakfast to soak up whatever’s pitching around in my stomach will get me headed in the right direction. In this one thing, I’m not going to let him down. It’s the least I can do after he saved my drunk ass last night and said all the right things and made good decisions when I was in no position to. So yes, for Coach. Let’s do this.

Ash

I’m not going to lie. I’ve had my eye on the entrance to the rink, waiting for her. Crossing my fingers that she’ll be here and that I didn’t make a huge mistake by leaving her alone last night.

As soon as I left, I started thinking of all the bad things that could happen. All those horrible things you read about as cautionary tales when you first get to college, like people choking on their own vomit or deciding to go back out because they feeltotally fineand falling down the stairs and breaking their necks.Don’t let any of those things have happened to Bronwyn.I’d never forgive myself.

Lucky for me and the breath I haven’t been able to fully let out, leaving my chest tight with apprehension, she arrives ahead of schedule. While she looks worse for wear, it’s not anything that can’t be excused by the emotional turmoil of last night. Anyone would look harried after that.

I catch her eye and raise my eyebrows in a silent question I hope she’ll understand:Okay?

She flushes, rolls her eyes, and jerks her chin down in a nod. I don’t know quite what to make of that, but we’ll call it all right with a touch of hungover and a sprinkling of embarrassment. Which is perfectly reasonable. I’d be surprised if she waltzed in here all shameless, especially because that would be totally out of character for her. I can do my part and not make this the very hardest kind of practice.

I suspect she’s cracked my code—along with Cunningham and Martinez, who play for me at BU and have had longer to figure it out—so to reassure her she’s not going to be leaving her breakfast all over the ice, I put on my early aughts hip-hop playlist. When she hears the first beats of 50 Cent’s “In Da Club,” her shoulders visibly relax. I can’t help the curl of the corner of my mouth as I look down at my clipboard before I make my voice loud to tell the girls to circle up, because we’ve got some work to do.

We get through practice, and Bronwyn keeps her word. She’s maybe not as badass as she is on her best days, but she’s still damn good, and you’d certainly never guess how blitzed she was last night if you didn’t know.

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