Page 52 of Crossing Lines

Glaring at him, I said, “You twisted my knee that night. He helped me home.” I planted my hands on my hips and straightened my spine. He wasn’t getting away with that shit again. This time, I’d be ready.

“Yeah? I have a feeling that’s not all he helped with.” He brushed a finger up the front of my team athletic jacket, his gazechasing it, then meeting mine. “Are coaches allowed to fuck their players?”

“He’s not my—” I gaped for a beat. Shit, stupid. “What do you want, Owen?” He didn’t deserve an answer to that question, but clearly, he’d seen something.

“What does he have that I don’t?” He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

He was off his fucking rocker. Wagging a finger at him, I said, “Listen, I’m going to go inside now. I’ve been traveling today, and I don’t have time for this.”

“Huh.” He shifted his weight and set a hand on his hip. “Fine. I’ll be seeing you around.” He glanced at the door to the building, then pivoted and stomped off.

A man walked out the door. “Coming inside?” He held the door open.

“Yes, thank you.” As I walked through the entrance and into relative safety, my nerves frayed. Shit, was Owen stalking me? My hand trembled as I pressed the call button for the elevator. He’d said he was visiting a friend. It was plausible, but if he was, then why did he walk off when another man came out of the building?

The elevator dinged and the door slid open.

I stepped inside with my roller bag and hit the button for my floor, then rubbed my neck. Owen must have been here when I’d brought Jonah home. We’d have to be more careful. Fuck, but I couldn’t see Jonah at his place and now bringing him here was a problem. How would we see each other?

With a soft bump, the elevator stopped and the door slid open.

I strolled down the hallway with my bag behind me. I had to talk to Jonah about this. He needed to know, and somehow, we needed to hide our relationship better. As I got to my door, I unlocked and opened it. I’d put my things away, calm my nerves with a whisky, then call Jonah.

A half-hour later,I sat on my sofa and sipped my whisky, my gaze looking out over the buildings across from mine through my patio doors. The sun hung low in the sky, kissing the jagged peak of “A” Mountain. I plucked my phone from the coffee table and dialed Jonah.

The phone rang once and picked up. “Hey, uh, Rhonda. How are you?” He chuckled.

Rhonda? Oh…“We need to talk. Can you get to someplace private?” I drank more whisky, then sank into the cushions of my sofa.

“On it. One sec.” He took heavy breaths, then a click filtered through the phone. “Okay, I’m in my room with the door closed. What’s up?”

I pursed my lips. “Owen paid me a visit.” I’d just lay it out there.

“What? Are you fucking kidding me?” He scoffed. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. He was in my parkade when I got home.” I tipped my head back and gazed at my ceiling fan. Owen couldn’t be stalking me, could he? “He knows about us.”

“How the hell would he know about us?” Jonah huffed. “You’re not safe there. That guy’s a tool. Hell, he’s the whole toolbox.”

A knot coiled in my gut. He was right, but what could I do except be more careful? I’d done more thinking on the situation while unpacking and had come up with some theories. “I think he may have followed us home from the gay bar that night.” I winced. “I also think he saw us together when we came home from our date at the Sake Haus.”

“Okay, so? Does it really matter if he knows?”

“He asked me if coaches were allowed to fuck their players.” I sat forward as a grinding tightness worked through my chest.What we were doing was wrong. But fuck if I could stop it. I was too far gone. My heart pretty much belonged to Jonah.

“It’s none of his fucking business. None of it.” Rapping carried through on the phone. “Shit, hold on.”

“You okay in there?” Ace’s voice slipped through. “You sound upset.”

“Yeah, just uh, it’s nothing.” Jonah huffed. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” A soft tick sounded. “I’m back, sorry. Ace heard me. Guess I need to keep my voice down.” He freed a soft growl. “But that fucker, Owen, better keep his mouth shut and not touch you again.”

“Jonah? We need to be more careful here.” I bit the side of my lip. What would that even look like?

In a soft voice, he said, “What do you mean?” He breathed into the phone. “I can’t not see you, Ryan. I have to see you. We need to be together.” His voice cracked. “You’re not saying we should stop seeing each other, right?”

I held my breath for a second. Maybe if we stopped until the season was over? “What if…what if we waited until the season?—”

“No, Ryan,” he whined. “Please.” He breathed in deeply. “When the season’s over, there’s finals if we make it into the championship. After finals, there’s graduation and then I’m expected to go home to Minnesota, or I’ll be at the camps up in Toronto. When the hell would we see each other?”

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