Page 79 of The Players We Hate
Her coat slid off her shoulders. I needed skin, sliding my palms under her sweater, over her waist, up her back. She shivered but didn’t pull away.
“You’re not the others,” I rasped against her throat, kissing lower until I hit her collarbone. “We both know it.”
A sound slipped from her, raw enough to gut me. Her nails dug into my back as she whispered, “I hate you.”
I crushed my mouth to hers, grinding my hips into her. “No, you don’t. Not even a little.”
For a second, I thought she’d admit it. Her body gave in, lips clinging, truth hanging between us.
Then it snapped.
Her muscles locked. Her hands slipped off me. She pushed at my chest until I set her down. The cold air rushed in the second I stepped away. Her eyes still burned, but underneath was empty.
“I meant what I said,” she whispered.
My chest heaved, rough as if I’d just come off a shift on the ice. “So did I.”
Her fingers fisted in my jacket, holding on for a breath before letting go.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking the silence. I didn’t grab it right away—not with her standing there, shoving her hair off her face with shaking hands, trying to erase what just happened.
When I finally pulled it free, the glow of the screen lit my face.
Reed: You were right. Gavin’s NIL file is off. Funds aren’t tied to real sponsors. I’ll keep digging.
My stomach dropped as the words seared through me. I closed out of the message and shoved it into my pocket before she even thought to turn her head.
When I looked at her, my voice felt like gravel. “You knew. You knew the NIL funds were off.”
Her jaw tightened, her eyes flicking from mine to my pocket and back again. “I suspected. But I didn’t know how far it went.”
I stepped closer, the question cutting sharper than I meant. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
Her voice cracked, just for a second, like the truth scraped on its way out. “Would you have believed me?”
The words hit hard. My mouth opened, ready with some defense, but nothing came out.
She pushed, softer this time but no less brutal. “You still think I put a puck through your friend’s truck window. Youthink if I came to you with this, you’d suddenly believe a word I said?”
Silence was all I had.
She seemed to hear the answer in it. Her shoulders dropped, the fight slipping out of her, and she gave a small, resigned nod like she’d expected nothing different. Then she brushed my shoulder as she passed.
I didn’t turn. Didn’t follow. My chest was tight as I watched her disappear into the dark. I could’ve called her name. Could’ve grabbed her arm. Could’ve stopped her. But I didn’t.
The night took her, and I was left with the weight of her words and the gut punch of knowing she’d been holding more pieces of this mess than I thought.
And I still didn’t know if I was chasing the truth with her or against her.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Wren
The light from my laptop was the only thing on in the room. It cast long shadows across the table, catching on the cold cup of tea I’d made hours ago and never touched. The dorm was quiet except for the steady tap of keys and the low groan of the heating pipes in the walls.
I should be asleep. It was after three.
But sleep wouldn’t come. Not with the pieces scattered the way they were, the truth sitting just out of reach.
