Page 15 of Best Kept Secret
“Get away from me,” she hisses, refusing to look me in my eyes.
“Millie, it’s not what it looked like, I promise you,” I say, keeping my voice low and steady despite the panic swirling in my chest.
She scoffs, her eyes like daggers when she finally looks up at me. “I’ve heard that before.”
I close my eyes on an exhale. Of course, she has. Fucking Parker. I swallow hard.
“Hannah’s just a friend. She—” Stopping myself, I press my lips together almost a moment too late. Hannah’s business isn’t mine to tell. And as much as I like Millie more than I’ve ever liked anyone, I promised Hannah. And I’m a man of my word. Icock my head to the side, ducking down a few inches to force Millie’s eyes to mine. “Please… just come back upstairs and I promise I can explain everything.”
She’s shaking her head before I even get my words out. “That’s my Uber.”
I glance over my shoulder at the silver Toyota pulled into the curb, and I momentarily freak out when she starts walking toward it. Reaching out, I grab her wrist, stopping her.
“Don’t touch me!” she yells, shaking me off, which attracts the attention of a few people walking by, enough that two of them stop, watching on, eyeing me dubiously like they’re ready to step in at any moment.
And I’m not the level of famous that people really notice me on the street, not unless they’re hockey fans, but I know I can’t risk being seen half-dressed, barefoot outside my apartment, harassing my teammate’s little sister as she cries.
So, as much as it fucking kills me, as much as I want to run to her, yell at her to hear me out, I don’t do that. I stand back, arms folded across my chest, teeth clenched and jaw ticking as I watch the first woman I’ve ever fallen ass over tits for get into an Uber and drive away.
Just as I go to walk back inside, something catches my eye, and I look down, spotting a pink scrunchie lying on the pavement by my feet. Bending over, I pick it up, twisting it between my fingers and catching a whiff of Millie’s trademark vanilla and peach scent. And as I walk back inside the building, I clench my fist around the only thing I have left of my girl.
CHAPTER 7
LOGAN
THREE MONTHS LATER
Iswear to God, if Happy asks me one more time if I’m going out tonight, I’m going to reach into the pile of dirty, sweaty, post-game laundry, pull out someone’s nasty-ass shorts, and shove them in his fucking mouth.
“C’mon, man,” Happy pleads next to me while buttoning his shirt. “Mason and Tex are practically joined at the hip to their women. You and me are the only single guys left. We’re a team.”
Tucking the lucky pink scrunchie I wear around my wrist when I play into my hockey bag, I roll my eyes, turning back to Happy. “Or, you could just, like, not go out. You know that’s an option, right?” I arch a brow, looking at him. “Go home. Get an early night. Wake up and meet me in the park for a run…” I trail off when I realize he’s looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
“We just beat Miami. In overtime,” he says as if I didn’t just score the winning goal. With a scoff, he smacks me in my chest. “I’m going out tonight to get my dick sucked.At least.”
I shake my head with a low chuckle. Happy Slater, ladies and gentlemen. Shrugging on my suit jacket, I grab my bag and follow the horny asshole out of the locker room and into the tunnel where family, friends, and a few VIP fans are waiting.
Camera flashes go off and kids are yelling my name, holding Sharpies in the air and begging me to sign their jerseys. And I do because, although I’m dog-tired, and all I really want is to go home, crawl into bed and read a few chapters of the same book I’ve been trying to finish for the last month, this is one of my favorite things about being a professional athlete. The kids.
I sign a few jerseys, take a few selfies, then make my way down the tunnel to allow for some of the other guys to take over as they exit the locker room behind us.
Up ahead, Dallas stands with his back to us, trademark cowboy hat perched on top of his head, his arm wrapped around his fiancée, Emily. They’re talking to a few people, including our unofficial enforcer, Robbie, and his girlfriend, Fran, and Happy makes a bee line for the group, inserting himself into the conversation with an eager, “So, what’s the plan tonight,ladies?”
I have every intention of waving goodbye and heading for the stairs to the parking garage so I can get the hell out of here before anyone can try to convince me otherwise, but instead, I’m stopped dead in my tracks, spine stiffening like I’ve been touched by a ghost.
“It’s Millie’s first weekend in town as anofficialNew Yorker,” Fran announces. “So, we’re taking her out.”
What the fuck? Am I hearing things, or did she just say…?
Moving so fast I stumble over nothing but my own loafers, I shoulder my way into the huddle and sidle up next to Happy. And when I see the familiar redhead standing right there, I swear it’s as if the world and everything in it falls silent for at least a few long seconds.
I try not to stare, but fuck she’s beautiful. Even more beautiful than I remember. Glossy red hair, bright green eyes, freckles sprinkled over an adorable nose, plush lips, curves for fucking days. It’s been months, but I still remember exactly what those lips taste like, remember exactly how those curves felt pressed up against me.
As if on instinct alone, her mossy gaze finds mine, but shelooks away so fast, I’m not sure if I imagined it or not. But when I witness the way the dimpled smile on her lips shifts from easy to forced, the way her teeth grit, the way her chest hitches, I know she saw me. And she still fucking hates me.
What is she doing here?
When all eyes turn to me, I realize I just said that out loud.Shit. I clear my throat, trying to play off my question with a casual grin.
