Page 50 of Brace and Chase

If I sound unhinged, it’s probably because I feel like I’m coming fucking undone.

“It was embarrassing, and itwaspathetic. I swear I didn’t say those things about your parents, Nikolay.”

“Are you saying the truth?” he asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion as his accent peeks out just a little.

“I would never disrespect anyone who was in a wheelchair or had an oxygen tank. I would never disrespect anyone’s parents,” I say like a vow. “Never.”

There’s an endless moment of silence where I think about what that must’ve been like for him. What all theseyears seeing me win these awards while believing I was that kind of scum...

“How the fuck did you not kill me on the spot?” I ask, my disbelief clear. If anyone says shit about my mom—or any member of my family—I will put that fucker on the ground every time. Yeah, I’ve always had a hair trigger when it comes to people disrespecting them.

Nikolay looks away and shrugs. “I’m not an aggressive person by nature,” he says absentmindedly, clearly thinking about something else.

I open and close my mouth several times, trying to think of something to say.

Could’ve fooled me, isn’t the right thing to say even if it is my immediate thought.

I entertain the thought of telling him how protective I am of my family too, but in the end there’s nothing I can say. It’s all on him now.

“I believe you,” he says after a minute.

“You do?” I can’t disguise the relief in my question.

“Yes.” He nods sharply, once.

“So you don’t hate me anymore,” I say, the sigh followed by a smile.

He winces and tilts his head from side to side.

“Seriously?” I demand. He won’t meet my gaze, and when I think about it, I have to scoff. “Oh, come on. It’s because of the James Norris Memorial wins?” He stays quiet, but this time his icy gaze does land on me. There’sless frost there now, though, so I guess the real hatemightbe gone.

“It’s bullshit,” he says, jutting out his chin.

“Yes, of course it’s bullshit!” I shout now. “The contrast is why I won most of those times, Nikolay.” Do I sound as exasperated as I feel? I hope so.

“What contrast?” he asks, his face screwed up.

“The contrast between how I play and how the rest of the team played. And the contrast in your case is nonexistent because you’ve always been on par with your team.” He stands taller and crosses his arms, looks down at me with an unimpressed stare. “Your team has wonthreeStanley Cups since you were brought up, Nikolay. It’s a fucking compliment.”

Jesus, I can’t with this man.

“Oh,” he says, and drops his arms. “All right, then.”

I just roll my eyes at him.

“So maybe I don’thateyou anymore,” he says slowly.

I tilt my head. I can literally see him thinking as he bites his bottom lip and his brow furrows. The lip-bite thing reminds me of our kiss but I shake that off.

We don’t have time for that right now—and probably never will, which is convenient.

Now that we’ve reached the point where all the cards are on the table—and none of them represent hate, yay—we might actually have a shot at convincing all our bosses to let us get on the ice again. No matter how much the curiouspart of my brain wants to push the issue, another kisswill notbe happening.

Just as resolution settles, he’s there, his body a hair’s breadth away from mine, his big-ass hands covering the sides of my face, fingers sliding up into my hairline and behind my ears. His icy blue eyes are burning hot and that heat envelops me, traps me on the spot.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers in a growl. “Stop me if you don’t want that.” I suck in air.

But I don’t move.

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