Page 91 of Gloves Off

And it’s working, which pisses me off more.

We never should have done what we did.

I yank my gaze back to the road. “You need your inheritance for this, don’t you?” I tilt my head in the direction we came from.

Our eyes meet, hers flaring with something guarded.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” I press.

She tucks her hand beneath her thigh, and I think about how that thigh felt, hitched up as I buried myself inside her.

Jesus. I need to stop thinking about that.

“The program’s funding was cut.” She doesn’t meet my eyes.

There we go. So that’s why she didn’t marry some guy when her grandfather died a few years ago. “What about the proceeds from the benefit?”

“It’s not nearly enough. The program costs at least a million a year.”

“And your inheritance is . . . ?”

“Ten million,” she says simply.

Something clunks in my chest. “You’re giving ten million dollars away?”

“I don’t know why I told you that,” she says quietly, and I don’t like the way I feel. I don’t like that she can’t trust me with these things.

I deserve it, after how I treated her, but I don’t like it.

“It matters to you.” I glance over at her.

Her eyes meet mine, and her chin lifts half an inch, eyes determined. “It matters to me.”

Another heavy, uncomfortable clunk in my chest, and I yank my gaze back to the road.

“I met Walker’s parents,” I blurt out, running a hand over my hair. “They came to the game a couple weeks ago.”

A beat passes where she stares at me and I feel like a fool. I don’t know why I said that. I guess I just—I found out something about her, and I didn’t like how uneven we were. We always even the score.

She regards me with curiosity. “What are they like?”

“Nice. They’re proud of him.” I hesitate. “They thanked me for working with him.” A lick of shame hits me in the gut.

Her eyebrows lift. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I haven’t done anything. I’m going to tell Ward it’s not working out.” I’ve been flipping back and forth on it in my head since thatmeeting with Ward, since he told me I was getting a lifetime achievement award from the NHL.

For some reason, I want to know what the doctor thinks about it, though.

“What? Why?” Her eyes go wide with alarm.

“Because nothing I’m doing is helping. The kid’s playing worse than he did last season when he joined the team.” My gut twists. “If things stay the same, he’s going to get hurt.”

It’ll be my fault. I’m failing him.

She’s quiet for a moment, studying me. I wish I knew what she was thinking. “He needs you.”

I rear back. “No, he doesn’t. He’s better off without me. I thought you’d be the first to agree.”

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