Page 15 of Beautiful Collide

I think she won’t ever speak again.

So it shocks me when she finally says something, her voice steady. Too steady.

“We don’t know each other,” she says in a cool and detached tone. “He must have me confused with someone else.”

The lie lands like a slap.

I’m too stunned to react.

Molly’s gaze flicks back to Dane, her calm facade unshaken. “I’ve never met him before.”

The ground around me opens up.

She lied.

She lied.

Dane lets out a low, disbelieving laugh. “You mistook my sister for another chick. That it?”

“What?” I ask, genuinely stunned.

“I know guys like you. You’re all the same. You string along puck bunnies whose names you don’t even bother to remember.” His tone is sharp, each word laced with accusation. “Players that play on and off the ice.”

The insinuation hits hard. My blood starts to boil. “That’s not who I am.”

“Oh, really?” Dane edges closer, sneering down at my street clothes. “Because you sure as hell look the part.”

I clench my fists at my sides, fighting to keep my temper in check. I’ve never had a problem with it. But I’ve also never been accused of being a player for getting locked in a storage closet and helping a total stranger come down from a panic attack. If anything, I should be canonized into the sainthood.

I should’ve shut up and agreed with whatever they said when I had the chance.

I’m late without a reason? Yes, Coach.

I’m benched? Yes, Coach.

I’m a fucking player, even though I’ve never been into casual hookups. Fucking yes, Coach.

“Believe whatever you want,” I snap. “But Iwasin the closet with your sister. Molly Sinclair. Not anyone else.”

Dane raises an eyebrow, his gaze hard and unyielding. “Then why the hell didn’t she back you up?”

His question lands like a sucker punch. I glance at Molly again, searching for something—anything—in her expression that might give me a clue. But she’s still staring at the floor, her face unreadable. Hell, she can’t even meet my eyes. I don’t understand.

“Dane.” Mason’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “Chill. Let’s get to warmups before Coach has all our asses running suicides for the next week.”

Dane doesn’t look away from me, but his shoulders relax slightly at Mason’s interruption.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice still laced with warning. I guess I don’t blame him. My little sister is annoying as shit, but I’d be the same way in his shoes. “But this isn’t over.”

With one final glare, he steps back and turns to Molly. Placing a protective hand on her shoulder, he leads her out the door as the rest of the team files toward the rink.

My new teammates snicker as Coach glowers at everyone with a pulse.

“Damn.” Mason grins at me, chucking my shoulder. “Sinclair didn’t hold back, huh?”

I don’t say anything, my eyes still on Molly’s retreating back.

“Don’t worry about it.” Mason pats my back before he leaves. “Dane is protective as hell over Molls. None of us are even allowed to sneeze in her direction.”

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