Page 37 of Triple Pucked
He only allowed me the illusion because he knew that if he timed his revenge at precisely the right moment, it would hurt so much fucking more…like the moment that I finished renovating my home and finally, my lovers moved in with me.
And he’s right.
It does.
I narrow my eyes. “What type of bet?”
Smug, Heine meets my gaze. “Firstly, thank me for my kindness.”
I arch my brow. “Go fuck yourself.”
The first genuine emotion sheets across Heine’s face:fury.
“My father wanted to fire every staff member,” he hisses. “Replace you as captain. Maybe sell the whole club. I talked him out of it and persuaded him that you could lead the Bay Rebels to the playoffs. Want to know what that cost me? Now, thank me.”
“Thank you, Charles,” I say.
This time, it’s genuine.
I do know what it cost Heine. Probably, a busted lip and black eye. If he was unlucky, a short stay in hospital.
Heine looks wrongfooted, peering at me like I must be mocking him.
Then he leans back in his seat. “So, the bet is that you win four out of six of your next games. Your coach here is confident that you can manage it and clinch that playoff spot. You’veungratefully attacked him since you came in here. But he’s spent the last hour praising all of you and the team. He believes in you to a sickening degree. Win the bet, and I promise not to contact you again for the rest of the season.”
My stomach is churning.
I smooth my expression to a cool mask. “And if we don’t?”
Heine’s malicious gaze slides to Shay at my shoulder and then Robyn; something inside me breaks. “Then it would be my duty as owner to make some big changes. I’d trade our newbie player here with Wilder Talon from the Pittsburgh Penguins. What a shame that would break up your happy little family.”
CHAPTER SIX
Rebel Arena, Freedom
Shay
I’d tradeour newbie player here with Wilder Talon from the Pittsburgh Penguins.
Newbie.
Heine didn’t even call me by my name when he threatened to tear me from the first home, family, love…stability…that I’ve ever trusted.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to skate faster.
The lights are bright in the arena. The cold cuts across my cheeks. I take a breath of the scent of rubber and sweat.
The rest of the team are skating laps with me, in between drills, but I ignore them. I’m faster than they are, passing them as they flag.
How far away is Pittsburgh?
My parents have never left their home town. Now, I could be traded like property to a strange city that is hours away.
Would Robyn visit me?
How would I survive without waking up curled around Robyn like a limpet? Singing and joking with my brother each morning? Being taught to play piano duets with D’Angelo in the evenings?
A hundred small domestic moments every day that I never knew I needed like breathing?
