Page 31 of Play Your Part

The nickname prickled at my skin. Still, I wouldn’t back down from the challenge she’d thrown my way. The smugness in her voice made it clear she assumed I wouldn’t share a damn thing with her. She underestimated how much I wanted to prove her wrong and needed to make this work. “What do you want to know?”

Kennedy drummed her fingertips on the side of her jaw. “When was your last relationship?”

The longer I held her gaze, the more she flushed.

“Keep asking about my dating life, Cole, and I might think you care.”

“It’s something people would expect me to know. Who you were with before me.” She diverted her gaze to the crowd watching us. Only two people remained. “You know all aboutmylast relationship.”

“Her name was Cora. She ended things around the time I was released from my last team, six months ago.”

“She ended things before or after you got released?”

I gritted my teeth. “After.”

Kennedy nodded sympathetically, which almost felt worse than her holier-than-thou judgment. “I see.”

She paused for a long moment, writing and rewriting a question in her mind. I knew what she wanted to know before she asked it, but no way would I give her an out from saying it out loud.

“And no one since then?”

I huffed out a laugh, my hot breath visible in the air. “Are you asking for my list, Kennedy?”

Her cheeks turned scarlet. The look suited her. It was the only explanation for why I offered her what I did.

“It would be empty. Hence, myreactionthe other night…”

Her eyes snapped to mine, surprised. Either she hadn’t expected me to ever bring that night up—and honestly, join the fucking club—or her shock stemmed from me being celibate for so long.

“I could see why you wouldn’t want to date, but—”

“Why wasn’t I—how did you put it?—plowing my way through local restaurants?” I asked with a smirk. She shuffled uncomfortably on her skates but kept her eyes on me as I answered. “I was focused on getting my career back on track. It didn’t leave time for dating. And… I wanted to be alone.”

After my relationship with Cora ended, I’d thrown myself into training to avoid focusing on what I lost. Opportunities to break my drought were present, but I couldn’t stand the idea of playing that game. What I enjoyed five years ago wasn’t at all what I wanted now. I wanted the plans Cora and I made. I wanted someone waiting at home for me when I came back from a road trip. I wanted someone to give a shit aboutme—beyond my money, fame, and stats.

But even though I wanted what came with a committed relationship, I couldn’t imagine putting myself through the pain required to find one. And there was no guarantee I ever would find one. Some people lived happy lives alone; maybe that was in the cards for me. The drought grew, and I told myself I was fine with it. Except apparently, it wasn’t true for one part of me in particular.

“Last question.”

Kennedy’s usually sharp stare went soft as her eyes roamed my face. This, more than any insult from her, made me itch to take off around the rink and leave her in the dust. Our back-and-forth, filled with sharp retorts and open dislike, felt more comfortable than the direction I imagined she would try to take us now. Before the softball question came out of her mouth, I knew it would piss me off more than anything she’d said to me to date.

“What’s your favorite movie?”

She thought she’d given me a gift by not forcing me to answer a tough question, but it only drove the knife deeper. Her pity over how pathetic my life had become over the last six months knotted my stomach. Barely hanging-on career. Dumped by the woman I planned to marry, even though Kennedy didn’t knowthat. No home. No sex. Things were starting to turn around, but damn if these last few months weren’t hard to shake. Could I even get back to what my life looked like six months ago?

“Don’t do that,” I said.

“What?”

“Ask me a real fucking question.”

Kennedy recoiled, but I couldn’t find it in me to smooth it over. She saw too much of what existed beneath my confident act. I would take every ounce of hatred over ever seeing that look of pity again.

“Fine,” she said, her voice all sharp edges again. She pushed off the wall, gliding forward one stride, so close vanilla and orange hit my senses again. I towered over Kennedy enough to see her chest perfectly from this angle, but I stopped my treasonous eyes from lingering there. “Did you get hardthe other night because you haven’t had sex for six months? Or because it wasmein your lap?”

Her words might have been quiet, but they packed a punch. Pushing Kennedy’s back against the wall brought out a different side to her. She kept her gaze fixed on me, not a trace of shyness on her face.

I refused to drop my own stare. “You jumped into my lap, Kennedy. What did you think was going to happen?”

---