Page 88 of Wallflower
“Excuse me?” She turns and moves closer, and her voice walks the edge of civility. “I know all about you,Violet James. Junior marketing executive, temporary personal assistant, failed fashion designer. You might think you’ve got the upper hand now that you’re sleeping with Chord Davenport, but men like him don’t stay with women like you for long. The summer will end, and so will this little fling. You’ll be nobody again. And Chord? Well, it won’t be long until he’s washed up right alongside you. Replaced with someone better and hotter than he ever was.”
I’ve never been brave enough to stand up for myself, no matter how I’ve been belittled and tormented and ignored over the years, but Emma just crossed a line I don’t remember drawing. She’s saying cruel things about the man I love with the sole purpose of causing hurt and pain, and I won’t stand for it.
I blame the alcohol for what I say next.
thirty-three
Chord
As soon as Violetis well out of earshot, I round on Coach. “What the fuck is Spencer Cook doing here?”
The people closest to us startle at my language, and as they cast sidelong glances my way, Campbell grumbles under his breath and drags me into a quiet corner.
“His father—”
I jerk my arm from Coach’s grasp. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
He pins me with a disapproving stare, and my nostrils flare as I take in a calming breath, but my blood’s running too hot, and the oxygen only fuels the burn.
“I haven’t even played my first game with this team, and somebody somewhere thought it’d be fine to put me in the same room with him?Andmy cheating ex-girlfriend? With media and cameras everywhere?”
I forget myself and run a hand through my styled hair, then swear under my breath and stuff my hand in my pocket. What I wouldn’t give to get out of here right now, take Violet with me, and never look back.
The thought stuns me amid the rage. Even on my worst days, I’ve never seriously considered giving up hockey, but it’s hard to give a shit about any of it right now, and it’s too damn easy to be with Violet.
“Are you signing him?” I demand.
“What? No!” Coach shakes his head, but his hesitant expression doesn’t fill me with confidence, and then he adds, “Not if I can help it.”
I grind my teeth and toss my head, too pissed to be having this conversation in public. And Violet’s been gone too long, making me itch like something is missing.
“I’m leaving.”
Coach opens his mouth to protest, then closes it and nods. The Foundation does important work for causes that mean a lot to me, but I’m not going to do the Fury any favors by acting like an asshole to our donors. And I’ve reached my cap on civility.
“That might be for the best,” he agrees.
I grunt and stalk away without saying goodbye, glaring across the room and only partially relieved I can’t see Cook. I’m picturing how good it’d feel to stumble over him with a fist in his face.
I ignore the familiar weight of everyone’s eyes on me as I sweep through the room like a thundercloud and slip out a set of doors into an empty reception area. I scan the space to figure out where to go next, but there are no bathrooms, which means I’ve taken the wrong exit. I spin to retrace my steps just as Hayden follows me through the doors. He’s dressed in a similar tux, his dark blond hair styled and his scruff neatly trimmed, but his wide smile fades when he sees the scowl on mine. It’s mostly my beef with Spencer Cook written on my face, but there’s a little irritation with Hayden, too. Shore is a fuckboy who flirts with everyone, but I don’t like the way he flashes that stupid grin at Violet.
“Listen,” he starts.
I try to step around him. “Can we do this later?”
He stops me with a palm to my chest. “I didn’t mean to overstep with Violet.”
I grit my teeth and meet his eyes, and his throat bobs with a nervous swallow.
“I don’t hook up with women I know are unavailable, and I never mess with girls dating the guys on my team. I want you to know that. I’d never do that to you.”
I scowl harder. In his own way, Hayden’s trying to tell me he’s not like Spencer Cook. And another time, maybe I’d appreciate it—even believe it—but with Emma and Cook only a few feet away, I’m not in the mood to make someone else feel better about himself.
Hayden grimaces and drops his hand. “Okay. Well. As long as you know that I’m sorry about Violet. I didn’t mean anything by it, and I’ll keep my distance if that’s what you want.”
Someone scoffs loudly behind me, and I spin slowly toward the sound.
Fucking Cook.
