Page 46 of The Players We Hate
That thought alone had me moving faster, heart still racing from the game, something heavier pressing in my chest.
That alone had me taking my time. My heart was steady, my skin still humming from the game, and something deeper was building in my chest.
Wren was here tonight. I saw her in the stands.
And somehow, just knowing she was there made everything hit different.
Out on the ice, I’d picked her out sitting behind the glass. Hood down. Waves falling loose around her face. Her mouth curved in that quiet way that wrecked me. She wasn’t jumping or shouting like some of the others, but her eyes never left the ice. Never left me.
And fuck, it meant more than I was ready to admit.
The high of the win still hadn’t faded when I stepped into the hallway outside the locker room and saw her.
She waited near the exit, coat pulled tight, hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes searched the crowd until they found me. Without a word, she fell in step, and we headed out to the parking lot together.
By the time we climbed into my truck, the cold still clung to our coats, and for a second, the quiet between us almost felt easy. I hadn’t even had a chance to say anything toher when my phone buzzed in my hand. Tatum’s name lit the screen. Before I could react, it buzzed again. Two calls back-to-back. She’d never do that unless it mattered.
“Sorry,” I said to Wren, giving her a quick nod. “One sec.”
She just nodded, eyes holding on mine.
I turned away and pressed accept. “Tate? Everything okay?”
Her voice came in sharp. “Talon? What the hell? Where are you?”
“Hang on.” I covered the phone and looked at Wren. “I gotta take this. Just give me a minute, all right?”
She didn’t argue, just stayed quiet while I shifted my attention back to the call.
“Sorry, Sis. What’s going on? I saw your texts.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Where are you? Can you get somewhere quiet? I need to tell you something serious.”
I shifted in the driver’s seat, glancing at Wren. She sat silent beside me, eyes locked on the phone like she already knew who it was. I turned slightly toward the window, lowering my voice.
“Yeah, I’m good. What’s going on?”
Her voice dropped. “You remember how Wells called me from an unknown number a few weeks ago?”
My shoulders tensed. “Yeah?”
“I started getting calls this afternoon from a blocked number. It just said ‘unknown caller’ on the caller ID.”
My pulse kicked up. “Did you answer it?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure it was Wells. They called a handful of times. The first time I sent it to voicemail, but after I didn’t answer, it’s like I pissed him off more. A few minuteslater, I got one of those security codes sent to my phone like someone was trying to log into my InstaPhoto account.”
“Ah fuck. Are you kidding me?”
“I was able to log in and change my password to my email and InstaPhoto, but when I still didn’t answer, I got a text message from another number I didn’t recognize.”
“What’d they say?”
“Well, they sent a photo and a video.”
I pressed my palm hard into my eye socket. “Okay…”
“The photo is hard to make out because I wasn’t looking at the camera, but it’s very clear to me. You can see the tattoo on my shoulder as clear as day.”
