Page 91 of The Playmaker

“But I have to go.”

“Wait until the end,” she pleads, and I stare at her. Why is she acting so weird?

Cole comes back onto the ice, his helmet in his hand—that’s when

I get a really good look at him, see his black eye. “Ohmigod,” I say to Jess. “What the hell?”

Behind us, I hear two girls talking about The Playmaker. “Did you hear?” one of the girls says to the other.

“Oh, I heard.”

I turn around and glance at the blonde and brunette as they gossip. “What did you hear?” I ask.

They stare at me for a moment, like they’re trying to figure out who I am, but then the brunette says, “That Cannon turned Claire down the other night, and then he got into a fight with Cason. That’s how he got that black eye.”

My heart nearly seizes.

He turned Claire down?

“Yeah, he led her on in front of us all, then he ditched her. What a jerk,” she says.

“Typical Playmaker,” the blonde says, like she’s not bothered by his behavior at all, and would take her turn with him if given the opportunity.

I glance at Jess, who’s watching me, wide-eyed. “I…uh…think your theory is right.”

I suck in a breath to get my heart racing again. “I need to talk to him.”

“I know, but it will have to wait. They’re about to start.”

Desperate to go to the bathroom, and needing a minute to myself, I stand. “I’ll be right back.”

Jess looks at me, her eyes pleading. “Hurry.”

Good Lord, what’s gotten in to her?

I head down the hall toward the bathrooms, and a measure of unease trickles through my veins. Cason gave Cole a black eye. I guess he must have figured out what was going on between the two of us. Not too hard, considering the gift I asked my brother to give his best friend, one that showed I knew who Cole was beneath the jersey, and there was only one way I could know that—by stripping him bare.

Would Cole back off like all the other guys?

As I mull that over, I hear the crowd go crazy behind me. I turn—and find Cole rushing toward me, stick still in hand.

I gasp as he closes the distance between us and hovers over me. “Cole, what the hell?” I say, my voice breathless, panicked. I look over his shoulders, see his teammates and the ref on the ice, thrown off by his departure. They’re not the only ones.

“Don’t leave,” he says.

What is going on with him?

My heart thumps in my ears as I point to the little girls’ room. “I was going to the bathroom.”

His breath gusts out of him, his body less tense.

“What are you doing, Cole? You’re going to get kicked out of the game, and hockey is the most important thing in the world to you.”

He stands there a second longer, shifting from one foot to the other, like he’s not sure what to say.

“Cole?”

“Just promise me you won’t leave.” His mouth dips into a frown. “I won’t blame you if you do, I’m an expert asshole, and I don’t deserve for you to stay.”

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