Page 8 of Die for You (Diamond Devils #4)

Damien

In front of the music building, I do a double-take when I spot a guy nearly my height lingering a few feet away, perched on the brick half-wall bordering the sidewalk.

No way is that former NHL star of the Titans, Jeremiah Crowder.

Holy shit. The dude’s a legend. The whole damn state had a meltdown when he was forced into early retirement.

The news wanted to convince us that he left voluntarily, but he made it clear on social media that he didn’t want to leave the league.

Not sure what actually happened, but it’s a damn disgrace that someone with his level of skill on the ice got forced out.

Don’t want to be a fucking fanboy, but I can’t stop my feet from heading in his direction. He straightens from the wall when he sees me coming like he’s not sure if I want to shake his hand or punch him in the face.

I jut my hand out. “Damien Rockefeller. You’re Jeremiah Crowder, right?”

He shakes my hand, grip firm. “That’s me. Nice to meet you, bud. You play?”

“Yep.” I nod to the ice rink in the distance. “I play for the Devils.”

“Sweet. Great team.”

“Surprised to see you on campus. You joining the team?”

He cracks a smile. “Nah, I’m retired. Just waiting for my girlfriend. She’s a student. Maybe you know her.”

I shrug. “It’s a big school.”

Fuck, I hope she’s not one of the puck bunnies I’ve shared with Knox and Finn in the past couple of years. That’ll be awkward as hell when she shows up.

“This is her.” Jeremiah digs his phone out from his back pocket and shows me his lock screen.

And there she fucking is.

A delicate blonde in a long cardigan, sleeves pulled past her wrists, curtain of hair half-shielding her angelic face. Delicately pointed chin, button nose, high cheekbones. Fierce brown eyes tamed, wary, broken.

Aurora.

What the fuck? Blood boils in my veins, warming my face. She said she didn’t have a fucking boyfriend.

She fucking lied.

Not only does she have a boyfriend, but he’s one of Titans’ most famous former players. How the hell do I compete with that?

I don’t. She’s already counted me out. I was never a contender to begin with.

“You know her?” Jeremiah asks.

I shake my head. “Doesn’t look familiar.”

He checks the time on his phone, glances back at the building, and grimaces. “Shit, I gotta go.”

“What about the girlfriend?”

“She can text me for a ride. Have a good one.”

“Yeah. You too.”

I lean back against the brick half-wall as Jeremiah Crowder disappears into the parking lot and takes off. With every minute that ticks by that Aurora doesn’t emerge from the music building, the rage builds.

Every one of my mother’s boyfriends lied to her. Cheated on her. Starting with my sperm donor. A father who stuck around for about five seconds when he found out he was having a son until he realized that even a son wasn’t enough to make him stick with one woman forever.

What the fuck did Aurora think she would accomplish by lying? Probably thought she’d get away with it.

Finally, the doors to the music building squeak open, a line of students exiting as their classes let out. Aurora marches along in the middle of the pack, mouth clamped shut, refusing to talk to or look at anybody.

When she spots me waiting for her, her lids fall to half-mast. Her jaw clenches. She’s lugging a backpack over one shoulder and a stack of folders in her arms with sheet music spilling out. Despite my teeth grinding together, I reach for her backpack.

She jerks away. “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m not touching you ,” I seethe. “I’m taking your bag.”

“Well, don’t .”

“That thing looks like it weighs forty fucking pounds. You can hurt yourself hauling that shit around or you can let me carry it.”

She hesitates like she wants nothing more than to dump her burdens on me. Instead, she hikes the strap up further on her shoulder. “I’m good.”

For a girl with short legs, she moves fast. But I’m faster. I keep stride with her without breaking a sweat. “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

The line between her brows deepens. Impossibly, she mirrors my rage back to me. “I don’t.”

She’s really going to lie to my fucking face. “So why the hell did Jeremiah Crowder show up calling you his girlfriend? Why does he have your fucking picture as his lock screen?”

That fast, the ire disappears from her mesmerizing brown eyes. She comes to a halt, a glint of fear etched into her features that makes my heart stop. “He was here?”

Shit. That was him . Her fucking ex.

I’m an idiot. I should’ve believed her over him. She said she didn’t have a boyfriend, but he obviously hasn’t gotten the message. Or let it sink in. He’s still got her picture on his phone like he owns her. He couldn’t exactly admit he was here to harass his ex, could he? “He’s the ex, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. That’s him.” Her gaze darts around the perimeter like she’s expecting him to ambush her any second. Never seen her like this before. I fucking hate it. Hate her being afraid of anybody when she has me. “He’s trying to get me alone.”

“We can help you, angel?—”

“And I told you to fuck off.” She rounds on me, that familiar ire blazing in her eyes again. “And don’t call me that."

There she is. At least she’s not afraid of me. I wouldn’t be able to stomach it if she ever looked at me the way she did when she heard his name.

She stomps away from me, but I keep pace with her. “Let me guess: you recognized him from your nights jerking off to the NHL games and now you two are best buds? You saw some guy who’s good at shooting pucks into a net and now you’re in love like everybody else he fucking meets?”

I ease her to a stop by the elbow, forcing her to look at me. “No. Fuck that guy. I care way more about you than any of that shit.”

Hockey is all I’ve ever had going for me.

Sure, I can land girls, but they never stick around.

Only come back when they’re looking for a long, hard fuck.

I picked sports management for my major because at least if I can’t make it in hockey professionally, I can spend the rest of my life coaching.

I’ve been told my whole life I don’t have the brains for anything else.

But I’d quit playing tomorrow, quit watching it and never talk about it again, if that’s what she needed.

“You don’t care about me.” She jerks out of my grasp. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know a lot more than you think.”

She glowers at me and spins on her heel without another word, stomping off.

I follow. She has no idea how far I’d follow her. “Someday, I’ll know everything.”

In the locker room before practice, I keep checking my phone.

What if that motherfucker saw me with Aurora?

What if he followed her back to her apartment?

I fucking hate that she’s out of my sight.

That he came to her fucking campus, pretending like he was the loving boyfriend picking up his girlfriend after class.

“What’s up?” Knox nods down at the phone I’m white-knuckling.

“Met Aurora’s ex today.”

Both Knox and Finn freeze. “Where?”

“Asshole was hanging out on campus. Acting like she’s still his.” I want to throw my phone at the fucking wall, but I’ll wait until we hit the ice to take out my aggression. “He’s Jeremiah Crowder.”

“The NHL player?” Luke’s eyes widen.

“Yup.”

“You should kill him,” Trey suggests, voice flat as he heads for the ice. “Let me know if you need assistance.”

Luke shakes his head. “I hate when I agree with that guy.”

When Luke follows Trey out of the locker room, I nod to Finn. “You find anything?”

He’s been digging into Aurora’s digital footprint. If anyone can find the information we need, the details she’s so unwilling to give, it’s Finn.

Wordlessly, he pulls out his phone and shows me and Knox his screen. An obituary. I hiss through my teeth when I read the names.

“Shit,” Knox mutters. “ Both her parents. This says she was only eleven when they died.”

Finn nods before stuffing his phone back in his locker.

My heart sinks. Aurora has been alone in this world since she was eleven . Then she ends up with a miserable asshole who treats her like shit, with no one to help her get away from him. No one else to lean on. She deserves so much better.

I check the cameras on my phone again. We hid a few in her apartment while she was in class. An extra security measure. She needs our protection.

So what if it means we can watch her waltz around at night in her silky tank and panties too?

Knox and Finn lean over to check out the footage. In the living room, Aurora drags the bow over her violin, a beautiful melody crooning out. The way she plays makes pride swell in my chest.

“She’s safe,” Knox confirms.

A soprano voice floats out from the speaker, soft and ethereal. My heart damn near stops. “She sings?”

Jesus, she really is a fucking angel. I never would’ve guessed she could sing like that.

Knox grins as he grabs his phone from his locker, the ringing echoing off the metal when he puts it on speaker.

On the camera feed, Aurora sets down her violin and checks her phone on the counter. She frowns before holding it in front of her mouth with a frown. “Hello?”

“Louder,” Knox tells her.

“What?”

He’s grinning from ear to ear now. Even Finn’s got a mischievous glint in his eye. “Sing louder so we can hear you better.”

“What the hell?” Aurora’s head swivels as she scopes out her apartment. “Are you in my fucking apartment?”

“Nope.”

“How can you hear me?” She darts to the window, peering out.

I close the distance between me and Knox. “You’ve got a beautiful voice, angel.”

“Shut the fuck up.” She ends the call, and we watch as she keeps searching the apartment to no avail.

With a small smile on her face.