Page 5 of Pucking Forbidden

I would have done anything for her…but that was then.

Now, just looking at her hurts.

Christ, she’s still the prettiest little angel I’ve ever seen, with stunning doe-eyes, curves for days, and acres of gorgeous olive skin I’ve been dying to taste for six fucking years.

But that ship sailed into an abyss when she watched them cart her brother off the ice. When he woke up in the hospital, he sank the remnants. Filled her head with lies.

And I let him do it.

“What do you want?” I ask, my tone borderline hostile. I don’t want to hurt her. I just want her gone so I can go back to pretending I didn’t set my entire fucking world on fire for her. But that is what I did. Just so she didn’t lose her brother.

She flinches at my tone, seeming to draw in on herself. “How have you been?”

It’s a loaded question I have no interest in answering. “What do you want, Sutton?”

“I…” She glances around her, spotting the camera in the corner and huffs out a breath. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

“Nope.”

She huffs again, the same way she always used to huff when something was pissing her off. I used to love that sound. Turns out, I still do. More than I should.

Hasn’t that always been the problem? I’ve cared far more than I should, for far longer than I should have. She was too young, too sweet when I met her, and I was a fucking asshole for falling for her. But I fell anyway.

“Please, Jordan?”

I just stare at her, trying not to bend or crack. I want to, though. When it comes to her, I never could say no. But that was then. Before she left her palm print across my face and her accusations ringing in my ears. Before I tore down everything and walked away because her brother left me no goddamn choice.

“Why are you here, Sutton?”

“I need your help,” she whispers. “Jamison–”

“Don’t even say his fucking name to me,” I snarl, my hands clenching. “If you’re here to talk about him, you can go.”

“He’s not the only reason I’m here. Maybe I miss you.” She bites her lip, glancing down at her feet as if that admission costher dearly. “I…I know he lied to me back then. You weren’t trying to hook up with Vanessa, were you?”

I don’t say anything for a long moment, not sure how to respond. Back then, Jamison convinced her that the fight was all because I wanted to fuck Vanessa. It was laughable, but Sutton believed him.

And I fucking let her believe it. I didn’t tell her who her brother really was or correct her when she confronted me. I just…didn’t say anything at all. I knew if I did, she’d never let it go. She’d throw a massive fit, and he’d end up in handcuffs. Any other tapes he had of her best friend would end up leaking once they got into police hands. Her whole world would blow up. So would her best friend’s. Their friendship wouldn’t survive that shit.

At the time, it made sense to protect Sutton from the fallout as much as I could. She’d already lost her parents. At least with her brother’s lies in her ears, she got to keep the only remaining family member she had. She got to keep her best friend. Jamison didn’t fucking deserve her or her loyalty, but he always protected her, always took care of her. She needed that.

Especially since I had nothing to offer her. I had no career left. Reporters were hounding me. Management was shipping me out of the city, intending for me to languish in the minor leagues until they figured out how to get rid of me once and for all. They were pushing for Jamison to press assault charges. My whole life was in shambles.

And I never felt worthy of her to begin with. How the fuck could I? She was a perfect little princess…and I was the asshole who fell in love with her knowing it was wrong.

“How’d you find out?” I finally ask.

“He told me.”

I grunt, surprised by that. I figured the prick would die telling that lie.

“What really happened, Jordan?” She glances up at me, her brown eyes fathomless. Pleading for an answer.

For a split second, I consider telling her. But I swallow the truth back the same way I did five years ago—not for Jamison’s sake but for hers. Because, even now, she doesn’t deserve to feel guilty for idolizing an asshole like her brother. She deserves to believe the best in at least one person in her life.

“Ask your brother if you want to know,” I say, stalking toward the door.

“I have,” she blurts behind me, freezing me in place. “I’ve asked over and over again. He told me to ask you if I really wanted to know.” She pauses. “I hoped maybe you’d give me the truth.”

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