Page 106 of No Pucking Way

“So why not tell me that?” I demanded. “Why play these stupid games?”

“Because these stupid games might help you connect with your memories,” he said. “When you come close to reliving something from your past…do you ever feel like you’re remembering?”

“Sometimes,” I whispered. “But what if I never get my memories back?”

“Then I’ll tell you everything I know about your past,” he whispered to me. “But it won’t be quite the way you remembered it… because through my eyes, you’ve always just been perfect.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “I’m definitely not perfect—"

There was a commotion on the ice.

I looked up to find Jack bashing the shit out of another hockey player. But even as he clocked him, his gaze found mine.

“That would be you making them crazy,” Greyson muttered.

Jack was in the penalty box a moment later, clearing the wall as if it were nothing but a curb. One of the coaches leaned over the side of the box to talk to him, and Jack leaned in and whispered something to him urgently. The coach pulled back with awhat the fuckexpression on his face, but Jack was already turning to me.

Jack’s gaze locked on mine. “What are you doing?”

“I’m watching your game, like you wanted.”

Jack’s jaw was tight, his eyes dark with fury as they roamed over my jersey. “Take it off.”

Greyson said helpfully, “It’s my old jersey.”

“I guessed that,” Jack snarled. His furious gaze met mine again. “Kennedy. I’m not going to ask again. Take. It. Off.”

“Or what?” I demanded. I understood Greyson’s argument about why they had kept our past from me, but I hated the thought of them making decisions like that behind my back, on my behalf.

It was haunting to think they all had these memories of me and I had nothing. It made me feel so vulnerable.

“Kennedy,” Jack’s voice was low and demanding, and it sent a shiver of tension up my spine… kind of a good shiver, actually. I hadn’t seen this dominating, dark side of Jack before. “If you wear any fucking jersey but mine, I will tear it off you. You’re mine.”

And it was fucked up, but it turned me on.

Greyson was on his feet. “Fucking try it, Jack. You aren’t fucking touching her in front of me unless she wants it…and even then.”

Malice hung in the air.

I hated seeing the two of them fight.

The coach came back, carrying something that he tossed to Jack. Jack caught it easily out of the air without even looking and shook it out in front of me.

It was a Devils jersey. Jack’s name was across the back.

“Hockey wives wear the team colors,” he told me. “That green and black is from the past. You need to wear Devils colors.”

“I’m not a hockey wife,” I reminded him.

“You will be,” Jack said with complete confidence. “Now put it on.”

He handed me the jersey.

Greyson reached to knock it away. “Get back out on the ice, Jack. You’re letting down your team…just like you always let her down.”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Jack snarled at him, and right now, I didn’t doubt he would.

Seeing the two of them fight tore at my heart.

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