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“Did she look hurt?” A million different scenarios ran through my mind on the way over. But one lingered the most and I ask through a clenched jaw, “Drugged or anything?”

“No.” Then she reconsiders. “I don’t know. She didn’t give me much time to notice anything other than her crying.” Decision made, I spin and start toward the front door. “You’re leaving?”

“No. Just using an alternate entrance.” I give her a look that I know I’ll pay for later. “Stay here.”

I walk around the side of the house, taking the same route I have several times now. I always feel like a creeper coming and going this way but she’s the one that kicked me out after our first night together. Her curtains are drawn and part of me hopes the window is locked because my girl needs to stay safe, but when I nudge at the glass, it opens. Not great, but I’ll take it.

I climb in and throw my leg over the window sill, knocking something with my foot. “Ow!”

Craning my neck, I see that she’s sitting under the window in the small space between the bed and the wall. She’s also rubbing her head. “Shit, sorry, T.” I come the rest of the way in, taking care not to land on her. “What’s going on?”

Without looking at me she says, “She shouldn’t have called you.”

“She shouldalwayscall me when you’re upset. You should too.” I squat down in the narrow space. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say.” She takes a deep breath and pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “You should go.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” I sit, or try to. The space is small and my body doesn’t want to cooperate, but I wedgemyself with my back to the wall, and shove my feet under the bed. “Did I do something? Because sometimes I do stupid shit–”

“It’s not you.” She shakes her head and tightens her grip around her legs.

“Then talk to me, because I’m about to walk out of here and start breaking jaws until someone tells me why you’re so upset.”

She exhales, sounding tired. “I saw Brent.”

Oh yeah, first jaw on the list.

“Did he touch you?” I touch her chin, focused on her eyes. I look for enlarged pupils–anything out of place. Her eyes are red from crying but otherwise they look clear.

“No. Not really.” She turns away. “He just told me the truth.”

I can’t even imagine the bullshit that guy is spewing. With trepidation, I ask, “What’s the truth?”

“That I’m the kind of girl men like him want, but can’t have. Not in any official capacity.“ She looks down, eyelashes wet. “I’m a side-piece. A mistress at best. Used for pleasure and because we’re weak. Apparently, I’m not the kind of girl that they want to marry or have babies with, I’m just there to be used.”

That fucker hit her square in her insecurities. The stuff we’d spent so much time working through. In the steadiest voice I can muster, I say, “You know Reynold’s is an asshole who gets off on being a dick and you shouldn’t listen to a fucking word he says.” Then a thought strikes me and a painful sensation spreads through my chest. “Is that what you want from him? Marriage and babies? Do you still want him?”

“God no.” She shifts away, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the bed. “It’s not that…”

“Then what is this about?” I spread my hand over my chest and rub against the ache. I don’t like how this makes me feel. How talking about this sets me on edge, feeling out of control. “Because yeah, hearing him say that has to hurt, but if you’re not with him, why the fuck does it matter?”

“He said it’s whatall menlike him want.” Her eyes open, pained brown meeting mine. “Men like you. Athletes. Leaders.”

I understand it now. Brent Reynolds has a death wish.

“Darlin’, Reynolds is a selfish prick. He doesn’t know shit about me and what I want.” I reach for her, sliding my arms around her waist, and pulling her onto my lap. She struggles, but it’s weak, and wrap my arms tight around her body, holding her against my chest. Inhaling her scent, I just know I want her close. I want her to feel me, to understand that I’m not letting her go. “He’s a bully and it’s probably driving him fucking crazy that he can’t have you.”

“He told me it didn’t matter if you go to the NHL or go back home to work for your father. I won’t be accepted by either.”

I’m going to kill him. I may actually do it, but not until I make it perfectly clear to my girl, that I’m not going anywhere.

“If there’s one thing you should know about me by now, is that I don’t give a shit about what other people say or think about me. Not outside of my coach, teammates, my sister, and you–but mostly you.”

I don’t know how to tell her about the war inside of me about my future. Following my dream or fulfilling my obligation to my family. “I don’t feel right dragging anyone into the complicated decision I have to make in the next few months, which is why I’ve been wary to commit longer than the next few months. It’s not something either of us should take lightly.” I lift her chin, looking her in the eye. “But I need you to understand, that whatever happens in my future, I want you with me.”

“Yeah?” A small smile tugs at her lips. “I want to be with you, too.”

My heart pounds, harder than skating sprints across the ice. So hard, that it feels like it’s lodged in my throat. I push past it and tell her, “I love you.”