Page 75 of The Players We Hate
For the first time since this started, I didn’t know who I was angrier with—her or myself.
The words ripped out before I could stop them. “So what? You’re the hero now? The girl secretly saving the team while playing both sides?”
Her eyes widened like I’d just slapped her. “I’m not playing both sides.”
“Bullshit,” I snapped. “You leave a mystery puck like it’s some noble warning right after someone smashes Kade’s truck window with a puck marked with Gavin’s number, and I’m supposed to believe that’s a coincidence?”
Her whole body jolted. “Wait… what?”
I stepped in closer, jaw tight. “Don’t play dumb.”
Her mouth opened, then shut again. Finally, she whispered, “Oh my God. You think that was me?”
I didn’t bother replying to that question either.
Her chest rose in a sharp breath, and she pressed a hand to her forehead like she couldn’t catch air. “You actually think I’d do that? Smash his window and put someone else in danger on top of everything else?”
“Don’t twist it.”
“No, Talon.” Her voice cracked. “You are. I left that puck because I didn’t want any of you getting involved out of fearof what could happen to you. Not because I wanted to hurt anyone.” She blinked, staggering back a step like I’d hit her square in the gut. “You think I did that?”
“Didn’t you?”
She looked wrecked. Shaken.
“No,” she whispered, her voice starting to fray with panic. “That wasn’t me. I swear it. I left the puck because I thought it might wake someone up. I thought it would give Kade a second to breathe. A warning that someone else was watching. I would never do anything to hurt him.”
I wanted to believe her. God help me, I almost did. But my gut was still a mess, tangled with questions and everything we hadn’t said.
“Then who did it?” I asked, my voice cold. “Who would do something like this?”
“I don’t know.” She pressed her fingers to her temple, her hand trembling against her skin. “I didn’t tell anyone. No one knows anything, not even Alisa. I left the warning and went inside. That’s all.”
My stare stayed locked on her.
“I’ve done everything by the book,” she said, her voice stronger now. “I’ve taken notes. I’ve submitted things anonymously. I reported through the right channels. I didn’t want attention or drama. I wanted to protect the team. That’s why I’ve kept my name out of it.”
I studied her long enough to see the cracks slip through her mask. Beneath the polish and the pride was someone who looked scared out of her mind, like she knew the game was already out of her hands.
“You didn’t tell anyone?” I asked, my voice lower now. “Because if this gets out…”
Her chin lifted, eyes sparking with something fierce. “I would never jeopardize the team. Not even you.”
That last word landed like a sucker punch. She looked like she hated saying it, but hated the truth of it even more.
We stood locked in a standoff that stretched too long, the kind of silence that made the air feel tighter with every breath. The music from the barn thudded faintly through the walls, laughter fading in and out, but it all felt far away. Out here, it was only us, the air heavy enough to blur the line between wanting to fight and wanting to give in.
“If it wasn’t you,” I muttered, “then someone’s sending a louder message.”
She nodded, unsteady. A sick knot twisted in my stomach. Because she was right. And that scared the hell out of me.
“Then we’ve got a bigger problem,” I said.
Her eyes met mine again, and something in them had changed. The sharp edge was gone, leaving something raw that made it hard to breathe.
“What do we do?” she whispered.
I didn’t have the answer. Not yet. But I knew one thing—I wasn’t letting her face this alone anymore. Even if I didn’t know where we stood. Even if half of me wanted to keep her as far away as possible.
