Page 70 of Unsteady

And then, I hate how good he is, how seamless.

Fighting in an NCAA game is a severe penalty, one Kane’s received quite often. He sounds like a team's worst nightmare in the news, but he’s a dream on the ice.

If he wasn’t my personal nightmare, maybe I’d be able to—

No. I stop myself before that ridiculous notion can take hold.Not my problem. Toren Kane is a nuisance, a liability to my team. Nothing more.

Not a friend or a teammate, he’s a parasite, one I intend to rid if I can. And if not, at least protect as much as I can from his venom.

The game is over with an easy win. The small private school in Vermont is a new team, still learning to mesh and move as one, which is why Coach scheduled the exhibition with them.

We’ll stay overnight, because we’ll play one more exhibition with them in the morning.

Hotel rules are strict, and as usual I’m with Bennett.

They’d tried to separate us once freshman year, saying we needed to make other friends on the team, but it ruined the surly goalie’s routine enough that we lost the game and Coach Harris nearly fired the development coordinator who’d made the decision.

We gorge on catered food in one of the hotel conference rooms, loaded with meat, veggies, and above all else: pasta.

All our plates are piled high, matching our hunger and energy levels. For a moment, it feels good to be back.

Bennett hefts two perfectly plated dishes high as he steps by the jostling of our teammates, sitting to my left while Freddy takes the seat across. He’s on a roll now, telling us all the chirps he enjoyed using, and some new ones he picked up from a talkative defender on the other team.

Kane looms like a dark cloud in the background, a loaded plate in his hand as he examines the two long tables before backing out of the room and leaving.

I only see Dougherty notice, watching his partner exit a little wary.

After dinner, we all part ways to our rooms and I bolt for the shower before Bennett can even open his mouth.

I throw on athletic shorts, my hair dripping onto my shoulders as I fluff the pillows, lean back and stare at my phone.

Bennett eyes me again with his bag over his shoulder as he heads to the shower, brows slanting.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong?”

My heart slams into my stomach.

“Yeah,” I lie, hating how easy it comes. “Of course.”

TWENTY-THREE

SADIE

The incessant flutter in my stomach is the only thing to blame for how quickly I manage to put Liam to bed.

I checked the score for the last time on the couch with Oliver and Liam earlier, which Oliver promptly watched over my shoulder. He tried to play it cool, but I could see the sneaky smile he tamped down after seeing the Waterfell victory.

The point division shows Matt Fredderic as a top scorer, along with two other names I don’t recognize. As I mindlessly scroll through the play-by-play, Rhys’ name pops up on my screen with an incoming video call.

I check myself in the mirror of my bathroom while swishing mouthwash out of my mouth.

The phone continues to buzz, only further igniting the swarm of bees attacking my belly. I slap off the bathroom light and slide on the wooden floors of the hall in my fuzzy socks, practically vaulting into my bedroom. I answer the phone as soon as the door closes.

“Hey.” I check myself in the top corner, making sure he can even see me in the low lamplight of the room.

“Hey Sadie Gray.” He smiles.

He’s breathtaking, even through the screen of my phone, with damp bedhead hair, resting on a pile of bright white hotel pillows. His skin is shining with a light flush, dimple gleaming with an excited smile I now recognize.

---