Page 47 of Puck Struck
Ice floods my veins. "What are you talking about?"
"Connor, right? That's what he called you." Ryan's smile widens. "Funny name. Doesn't suit you nearly as well asCam. But then again, maybe it's the real you, the person you’re hiding from."
I clench my jaw. "What, did he offer you money? Is that it?"
Ryan laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Fuck no. I don’t give a shit about the money. To get the opportunity to take you down a few pegs is payment enough."
"Let it fucking go, Keating. You don’t know what you're getting into," I say, my voice dropping dangerously low. "This guy…he's not just some gossip columnist. He's dangerous."
"Dangerous to your career, maybe," Ryan scoffs.
"I'm serious." I step closer. "Whatever he told you, whatever he's planning, just stay out of it. For your own good."
Something in my tone makes him hesitate. His eyes narrow. "Are you threatening me now?"
"I'm warning you." I glance around to make sure no one else is listening. "This isn't a game. This guy won't stop with me. He'll come after anyone who gets in his way."
Ryan's smirk falters, just slightly. "Why the hell should I believe you?"
"Because I've seen what he can do." My voice is barely a whisper now. "And trust me, you don't want to be collateral damage."
For a moment, doubt flickers across his face. Then his expression hardens again. "Nice try, Foster. But your golden boy act doesn't work on me. It never has. You can try all you want to save your ass. In the end, it won’t matter."
He pushes past me, shoulder-checking me hard enough to make me stumble.
I stand there, frozen, long after he walks away.
James has already found Ryan. Which means he's serious about the threats.
Which also means I have no choice but to meet him and do whatever he wants to keep him far from Keating, Logan, and the team.
I avoid talking to anyone else and duck out of the locker room early. By the time I get back to my apartment building, my nerves are stretched so tight, I’m about ready to snap. Memories of James bubble to the surface with every breath. His cold smile. His possessive grip. The way he'd whisper in my ear at events, making sure I knew he owned me. A shudder ripples through me and I slam my hands on the steering wheel.
I turn off the ignition and step out of the car, trying to keep my face neutral when I see Logan. " What are you doing here?"
He stalks toward me. His expression isn't soft. It's hard, controlled, almost angry. "You’re not yourself."
"I’m fine."
"You're lying." His voice is accusatory.
I press my fingertips to my temples. "Go home, Logan. Please. You’ve seen me. I’m good."
"I’m not leaving until you tell me what's going on." He blocks my path to the door into the building, arms crossed over his chest. He looks more like my opponent than the man who kissed me days ago. "I saw your face when you got those text messages. I saw you with Keating today."
"It's not your problem."
"It became my problem the minute you dragged me into whatever the hell this is." His jaw clenches. "You kiss me, then you run. You avoid me and then disappear after practice. And now you show up here looking like you've seen a ghost. I think I deserve an explanation."
He's not wrong. But the steel in his voice makes my spine stiffen.
"You don'tdeserveanything from me," I snap. "We're not together. We're barely even friends."
"Is that what you tell yourself to make it easier to push people away?"
Something cracks inside me, making the walls I’ve built to keep everything contained, protected, and controlled start to crumble.
"You don't understand what you're getting into," I bite out.
