Page 177 of Pucking Obsessed

Alive.

It was terrifying allowing Eden to enter Freedom Mansion without me last night. To sit in the car outside, not knowing what was going on inside to Eden or D’Angelo was worse than any torture that I could have endured.

The score is1-1.

It’s close, and there are only seven minutes left of the game.

Yet a draw isn’t good enough to win over the board, who are crowded around coach like vultures.

Coach’s arms are crossed. He’s glowering at the rink, rather than gesturing animatedly like he normally does.

He knows the stakes. I guess that’s why he’s so quiet.

It makes me nervous. I’d rather he was screaming at us.

Heine isn’t standing with coach. Instead, he’s flying to Germany, which makes me bloody happy.

I wish, however, that I could kick his arse personally.

On the other hand, I accept D’Angelo’s decision. It’s smart. Heine has incredible power and influence.

Who am Eden and I next to a billionaire like him?

I’ve known the reality of how this world works since I was a tiny kid.

Trash like me always ends up fucked over, not the other way around.

D’Angelo has serious balls for taking on a man like Heine and winning.

Also, I can’t admit this, even within the honesty of the Circle of Twins, but I understand Heine’s obsession, despite hating him.

After all, I’m bloody obsessed with both Robyn and D’Angelo.

I understand Heine more than my brother does. Possibly more than any of the others do.

The strength of own love frightens me sometimes.

I try to find space, as D’Angelo chases the puck.

We arrived early at the rink, so that D’Angelo could change into his uniform without the rest of the team seeing the welts on his back. Yet the other players still picked up on the fact that he was injured.

It filled me with warmth that each team member, even pranksters like Lucas, took the time to check in with him and made sure that he was okay.

D’Angelo looked taken aback and pretended to be grumpy, but I could tell how pleased he was.

“See, they all see you as their brother too.” I nudged D’Angelo’s shoulder, forgetting about his injuries. He winced. “Sorry.”

D’Angelo’s smile was unusually soft. “Huh, they do.”

I hope that D’Angelo understands I’m not the only one who bloody worships him.

He’s the best captain. We’re lucky to have him.

D’Angelo shouldn’t believe a poisoned word that Colton says.

Actions and not words mean everything.

During the game, the team has pulled together to support D’Angelo.

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