Page 50 of Play Your Part

ALEXEI

All night, Kennedy worked the room, from the wives and girlfriends to my teammates, even to Max and Arielle’s cat. I knew she’d done her job well when I came across people she talked to after her. Teammates who played with Justin Ward for years—who never talked to me about our drama—told me they couldn’t believe how poorly he’d treated Kennedy. They were gladIhad been at the party to stop something worse from happening. Several of my teammates’ significant others commented on how good we looked together. Kennedy accomplished more in a couple of hours than I’d been able to do in a month and a half.

A winning record smoothed over much of the roughness from the way I’d joined the team and Ward had departed, but other than Matt, I hadn’t connected much with my teammates off the ice. Not that I’d tried, but it seemed futile to make too much of an effort when my reputation was a huge mountain to climb.

“Hey,” Kennedy said as she plopped on the couch beside me. I posted up here an hour ago to watch my teammates make asses of themselves at karaoke.

“Looks like someone is having fun,” I said.

Her flushed cheeks raised as a smile broke across her face. She slid her legs into my lap, holding her skirt in place so it didn’t ride up. “I am. Not all of us are grouchy old men who would rather be training.”

I laughed, placing my palm on her knee. “Maybe I was missing you.”

Her head snapped toward me; her mouth parted. “I am a good time,” she said easily, the alcohol loosening her usual tension. Kennedy nestled her head on my shoulder, her eyes closing briefly. “Well, I used to be a good time. You would have liked me then.”

Much like the night we met, Kennedy’s disparaging words about herself lanced my heart. They weren’t a fish for flattery; she meant them.

I ran my fingers along her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open before dipping to watch my movements.

“I like you as you are.”

Kennedy sucked in a breath, her big brown eyes lifting to mine.

“You’re… magnetic. You draw people to you without even trying. Even when you’re actively pushing them away, they can’t help it. I can’t help it.”

“You’re different than I thought you’d be,” she murmured.

“Alexei.” Erik Pomroy’s voice broke the moment. Since when was he at this party? “Kennedy.”

“Erik,” I said as I gently moved Kennedy’s legs from my lap and stood to shake his hand. Erik wore aTop Gunjumpsuit, his dark shades resting on top of his head. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I like to stop by if I can,” he said.

When Kennedy reached my side, she wrapped one arm around my back and leaned into me. Because of the alcohol or our act, I wasn’t sure. “Kennedy Cole, I’m surprised to see you here.” His gaze flicked briefly to me before landing back on her.

“Hey, Coach,” she said. Her bubbly voice hadn’t lost its luster despite her tiredness. “Nice costume.”

He clicked his tongue. “Yeah? It’s nothing compared to yours.”

“Thank you. Do you mind getting a picture of us?” she asked, holding her phone out to Erik before he could answer. “I promised my dad I’d send him one.”

Erik took the phone, then stepped back. “He knows you’re here?”

Even drunk, Kennedy navigated the situation with skill. I threw my arm around her shoulders, pulling her even closer to me. Vanilla and orange wafted from her, as always. She looked up at me rather than at the camera, giving me one of her wide, genuine smiles. Not in service of mocking, for once. I didn’t even care if it was for show.

“Of course,” she answered Erik as she patted the fur on my chest. “He told me to warn him if this guy does anything I don’t like.”

Kennedy had recapped her conversation with her dad for me, but she concealed this warning. I wasn’t sure why. It seemed like perfect ammunition for Kennedy’s mocking.

When Erik handed the phone back to Kennedy, he said, “Sounds like Cale.”

“You ready to go?” I asked her, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but at this party, in a room full of people Kennedy and I were fooling. Including my coach, a man I admired more than almost anyone. “She was falling asleep on the couch,” I explained to Erik.

“Sure, yeah. Let me just say my goodbyes,” she said before leaving Erik and me alone.

Erik slipped his hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit. “You better know what you’re doing, Volkov.” TheOr elsewas implied. He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he passed by.

A month ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about his words, guided by my motivation to fake-date Kennedy and show everyone I wasn’t a piece of shit.

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