Page 17 of The Last Inch Of Ice
“Because you never do anything without an agenda.”
“Maybe I just wanted to support your noble cause,” Kai says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Bullshit.”
Kai’s smile fades. “You’re right. I did it to piss you off. Congratulations, it worked.”
He takes a step closer. “You think this is a game?”
“Everything’s a game, Rykov. You just don’t know how to play.”
“I’m not playing.”
“No,” Kai says, his voice hardening. “You’re too busy being righteous to notice that everyone sees through it.”
Rykov’s jaw tightens. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Kai sets his glass down on the railing. The memory surfaces before he can stop it—the draft combine, the ice, Rykov’s weight pressing him down, his mouth on Kai’s neck. The way Kai froze beneath him, his breath catching, his body betraying him.
His mood deteriorates significantly.
“It means,” Kai says, his voice cold, “that you’re a hypocrite. You act like you’re better than everyone else, like you don’t care about anything but the game. But you’re just as desperate for attention as the rest of us.”
“Bullshit. That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Kai steps closer, close enough to see the way Rykov’s pupils dilate. “You made one comment to the press about me. One. And you’ve regretted it ever since. But you didn’t regret it because it was cruel. You regretted it because it made you look bad.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” Kai’s voice drops. “You’re so obsessed with being the good guy, the silent martyr, that the thought of anyone seeing the real you makes you squirm. And the real you… well, kind of reckless, ambitious, and a little short-sighted.”
Rykov’s hand shoots out, grabbing Kai by the front of his shirt. He slams him back against the railing, their faces inches apart.
“Say that again,” Rykov growls.
Kai’s heart is racing, but he doesn’t look away. “You heard me.”
For a second, neither of them moves. The air between them is electric, charged with something Kai doesn’t want to name.
Then Rykov lets go, stepping back like Kai burned him.
“Stay away from me,” Rykov says, his voice rough.
“Gladly. Good fucking bye,” Kai says.
Rykov turns and walks back inside, the door slamming shut behind him.
Kai stays on the balcony, his hands shaking, his breath uneven. He picks up his cocktail and drains it in one gulp.
5
Chapter 5 Kai
Three weeks later, Kai stands under the common showers near the locker room, water pounding over him as he mentally curses Rykov with every beat.
The bloody idiot can’t make up his mind. Sometimes he passes perfectly to Kai, threading the puck through impossible gaps like he can see the future. Other times, he takes it himself, carrying it like Kai doesn’t exist.
Kai would rather Rykov completely ruin his statistics and their game plan than cause this uncertainty on the ice. At least then he’d know what to expect. But this? This constant back-and-forth is driving him insane.
