Page 79 of College Hockey Bully

“It’s not about me, really. Someone set Scarlett up. Her academic record is in jeopardy because of me.”

“I don’t understand,” Cameron says with a frown.

My hand pauses on the handle of my locker. “I can’t shake the feeling someone’s trying to ruin her to get back at me—yes, I know it sounds conceited,” I add when his expression flares up with amusement. “But Scarlett has no enemies. It must be me.”

“Scarlett has no enemies thatyou know about,” he clarifies.

“She’s not aware of having any, either. Well, except us.”

Cameron closes the locker door, a wary look on his face. “I like the girl, Aiden, but you still don’t know her very well.”

“I know her enough,” I snap. “Scarlett is the sweetest, most innocent person I know.”

“If you say so,” he replies with a shrug. “Either way, whoever is after her—or you—they’re connected to the athletics department.”

I slap the locker triumphantly. “Fuck yes. I think so, too!”

My cell phone rings as Cameron nods thoughtfully. Dad.Fuck. “I need to get out of here,” I announce, yanking my bag from the locker.

Almost at the door, Cameron calls after me. “Take it slow with Scarlett,” he says when I turn.

Which earns him a confused frown. “I don’t get it; one minute you’re gassing me up to pursue her, the next you’re telling me to slow down. What gives?”

“Just a gut feeling. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

My arms going lax, I walk back to him. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No, dude. Just be careful.”

Why is he not looking in my face?

“Cam.”

He finally sighs. “There’s something wrong somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on it. Just please watch your back.”

“Always,” I mutter, patting his shoulder.

Unease creeps up my spine as I walk through the exit. Cameron’s instinct is usually spot on. If he says there’s something wrong, it usually is.

For the first time, I hope like hell that he’s wrong.

***

Amanda, Dad’s secretary, shoots me a thumbs-up as I point to his office door. She buzzes me in, and I step into the vast, glass-enclosed space a moment later. On one side, the frosted glass provides privacy from the rest of the floor, and the other side gives a one-eighty view of the city below. Besides a large mahogany desk and high-back chairs, plus a large bookshelf, Dad’s office is also equipped with an ensuite bathroom, a small closet filled with clothes, a kitchenette and a pull-out futon. He could actually live here. I remember an instance where he and Mom fought so badly that he stayed here for an entire week.

With the phone cradled to his ear, he beckons at me and I pull up a chair in front of his desk. It takes me a hot minute to notice a silver loop earring half resting under his keyboard. I shake my head. Mom hates silver jewelry. It wouldn’t surprise me if there was an employee wearing just one earning around here.

“It’s bittersweet; isn’t it?” he greets me gaily after hanging up the phone. As I raise a questioning brow, he clarifies, “Walking into a space that you’ll never get to use.”

“I’d rather rephrase that statement, actually. I chose not to follow in your footsteps, Dad. Not the other way around.”

“Which leads me to why I asked to see you here.” He sits up straight, his hands linked and resting on the desk. “After our conversation last night, I made a call to the owner of theNew York Sabers. Nathan and I went to high school together and to my surprise, he remembers me. Told me he saw you play and definitely has his sights set on you.”

I nod solemnly, although there’s a party going on inside me.

“But the coach has his eyes on two other players, Nathan tells me. I think you’d be meeting them in the finals. That is, if you get there.”

There’s something in his tone that brings the party to an abrupt end. I stiffen in my seat.

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