Page 100 of The Ruthless and the Strong

I played with the label on my water bottle a bit. “I guess I was trying to prove that wasn’t really the case. Or perhaps I was chasing that thrill of excitement I used to get. I never did get it.”

“Do you know why that is?”

“Yeah, I know.”

When I didn’t say anything, she moved her hand down to my own, stopping me from peeling off the label. I put the bottle down and leaned back against the wall.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” she said.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell. It was that I was afraid to tell her. Everything about it was entwined with what I had done, in what and who I was as a man. I was afraid of unmasking myself and risking her running away.

“Did you know Mason used to play hockey as well?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve never seen him play.”

“He doesn’t play anymore, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he never picks up a hockey stick again. He was good. Better than me. Five years younger, but he had no trouble keeping up with me on the ice. Everyone thought he would play pro one day.”

“What happened?”

“Terrance Hughes happened.”

Her brows furrowed. “Who?”

“This hockey coach at a summer camp Mason went to when he was a kid.”

“Did he say something to him?”

If only. I shook my head. She took a deep breath. “Did he… do something to him?”

I nodded. That was all I was going to say. Mason’s past was his own, and he should get to decide who he wanted to share it with. But Lizzie was a smart woman. I knew she’d figured it out.

She wrapped her arms around Hunter. “Oh, I see.”

“Yeah. That tainted hockey… for the both of us.”

“Where is the man now? Has he ever gotten caught?”

I shook my head and saw her fist clenched. “No, he died many years back.”

“How?”

“He killed himself in his cabin in the woods not far from here.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then, “Good. I’m glad such a horrible man is gone from this world.”

“Would you still feel the same way if he was murdered instead?” I asked carefully.

“Yes. If that is the case, then he deserved it. Why do you ask?”

“There were a few theories out there that he didn’t kill himself. A few days after his death, evidence about all his wrongdoing came to light. It was pretty big news in the sports world, considering how well known he was. He had played for the Chicago team before he retired and decided to coach boys’ hockey teams instead.”

“Well, I don’t care. I hope it was a slow and painful death. I’m glad the world knows just what kind of man he was.”

“By the way you talk, you sound like you might be okay with it,” I said slowly.

“Okay with what?”

“Murder.”

She stayed quiet for a beat. “I don’t see the world in black and white. There are those ambiguous gray areas.” She tapped her finger on her lap, once, then twice. I watched the movement, taking in the slender shape of one delicate finger. “Does that make me a terrible person?”

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in close. “I think we’ve already established that nothing you do or say can ever make you a terrible person in my life.”

She grinned at me. “Whew. And here I thought I would have to defend my entire moral code to you.”

I smiled, but I wasn’t really with her. There was nothing she could ever do that would make me think badly about her, but I wondered if she could say the same about me.

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