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Sabrina’s jaw worked, and her voice was quieter now, with a ragged edge I hadn’t expected. “You have no idea,” she repeated. “You can make all the same assumptions everyone does. You can tell yourself and anyone who will listen that I was just handed a hockey career because I’m Doran McAvoy’s daughter.” She swiped at her eyes and swore, and that rawness in her voice waseven more pronounced as she ground out for a third time, “You haveno idea.”

Before I could make sense of anything, never mind respond, she brushed past me, leaving her water bottle by the bench along with the weights she hadn’t racked.

It was a pet peeve of mine when people didn’t rack their weights or wipe down their bench, but this time…

This time, I was hard-pressed to expect her to stay a second longer.

And my catty mean streak was fully MIA, too. I just felt like a jerk now. All this time, I’d thought of her like a spoiled rich girl who always had everything on easy mode, but clearly I’d miscalculated somewhere. Clearly I’d messed up. Now things were going to be unbearable with my teammate, and that fell squarely on me.

“Shit,” I muttered into the mostly silent gym.

I put away her weights, wiped down the bench, and collected her water bottle. By now, she was probably in the shower, so I could just leave it by her locker. In theory, I could do that and then slip out before we crossed paths again. Shower at home or something.

But I wasn’t going to be a coward. I’d already been an asshole.

So, with my heart pounding, I sat on the bench and waited.

She emerged from the showers a few minutes later, now wearing a dry T-shirt and shorts with her hair up in a white towel. A few dark, wet strands framed her face, which was fixed with fury as she gathered her things. She didn’t look at me even once.

After she’d dressed, I said, “Listen, can we—”

She snatched her shoes, gym bag, and keys up off the bench and stormed out of the locker room.

I stared at the doorway she’d gone through, my mouth still open with the words I hadn’t finished saying.

What the hell? She wasn’t even going to give me a chance to apologize?

Maybe she needed time to cool off. Or maybe she was just going to cold-shoulder me until the end of time.

Sighing, I gathered my own things into my bag and headed out to the parking lot. As I walked, I hoped I’d find her out there, waiting to catch me off-guard and confront me. I didn’t really relish the idea, but I hoped it played out that way; she deserved to say her piece, and I also wanted her to hear my apology.

But when I stepped outside, the day was still and silent. The parking lot was deserted except for my car.

Sabrina was gone.

Chapter 10

Sabrina

“What the actual fuck?” I huffed as I shoved my water bottle under the faucet to fill it up. “I’m just working out, minding my own damn business, and she has to…” I flailed my other hand. “Ugh.”

I mean, yes, Ihadasked her what the hell her problem was, but still. What the hell.

Zoe watched me over the island, her arms folded loosely across her Bearcats T-shirt. “That’s really weird. She’s been kind of a bitch to you ever since you both came to Pittsburgh, though, hasn’t she?”

“She has.” I shut off the faucet and capped my water bottle. “And she’s taken little swipes about nepotism and whatever, but I figured that was just low-hanging fruit for her to be catty over. Kind of wondered what her actual problem was. I guess now I know.” I rolled my eyes. “Same old story, isn’t it? Every goddamned time a teammate is prickly toward me…” I just sighed and headed into the living room.

“Same shit, different team,” Zoe muttered as she followed me.

“Seriously.” I flopped onto the couch and pulled my legs up under me. “I know people think that about me. I’m not stupid, you know? I know what people say. But is it too much to ask for myteammatesto take me at face value? Like, even if Ididcome up the way they all think, I can still play hockey, you know?”

“You can,” my sister acknowledged, easing onto the other end of the couch. “And at least from where I’m sitting, the rest of your team gets that. It’s just Hamilton who can’t seem to get it through her head that even one of Dad’s kids wouldn’t be playing at this level without some actual skill.”

“I know, right?” Sighing, I sat back and ran a hand through my hair. “I’m just so damn tired of it. All I want is to play hockey.”

“And to berespectedfor playing hockey,” Zoe supplied.

The words thumped against my chest. “Is that really too much to ask?”