Page 25

CHAPTER 25

Farren

T he overtime shootout against the two-time Cup champion Carolina Cold Fury couldn’t have been more exciting. It was a glorious save made by Drake McGinn and a zinger of a wrist shot by Stone Dumelin that sealed the Titans’ victory.

Once again, almost the entire team is at Mario’s celebrating. There was no consideration of having a quiet night at Stevie’s bar as this win against a tough and superiorly talented team meant the Titans had to celebrate with their fans.

There are more people here than I’ve ever seen, and it almost feels like that giddiness of Christmas morning when you’re a kid. Given the sweet victory and the fact that the players have tomorrow off, the alcohol is free-flowing in the VIP lounge. I expect Uber will be busy tonight and we’ll all have headaches tomorrow.

The noise level in here isn’t nearly as deafening as it was at the arena, but it’s louder than it usually is after a win. Everyone is joyous, exuberant voices competing to be heard over one another as fans boast and retell certain plays. It’s hard not to get caught up in the energy of the room and I’m keenly aware of it since I’ve been made to feel like so much a part of this Titans family. Obviously, that started with being Rafferty’s sister, but now it’s no secret to anyone that I’m seeing North and I’m fully immersed in the camaraderie of this team.

North is in his element tonight, his easy, outgoing charm extending to fans and teammates alike. He’s crossed the velvet ropes on and off, indulging every man, woman or child who wants a picture, an autograph or even just to talk about his amazing second period goal that had me screaming so loud from the stands, my throat hurts.

I’m not about to rain on his parade tonight and I don’t even complain when he casually drapes an arm over my shoulders. It’s proprietary, an indulgent display of affection that sends a message to everyone watching.

I’m his.

Our current group huddles around a high top and I’ve affectionately come to refer to them as The Gang . It includes the men North is closest to—Foster, King, Atlas and my brother. Willa and Mazzy are in attendance, and Rafferty’s not as blue tonight as he has been, despite missing Tempe. Atlas is his happy-go-lucky self and is spending more time flirting with the pretty women than anything .

“You good?” North asks softly, squeezing my shoulder. His expression says he’s asking for continued permission tonight to be something more than just casual.

Force isn’t needed to lend him a smile. “Yeah. It’s all good.” I pause as I consider his request and amend with confidence, “Really good, actually.”

It’s not a lie. It feels good to be with North, and the three beers I’ve had aren’t hurting to lower my defenses, although they’ve admittedly been slipping further and further each day. Every once in a while, there’s a small voice in the back of my head reminding me I’ve wandered into territory that has historically been dangerous for me, and I wonder how long I’ll struggle with that. It’s slightly concerning that I haven’t been able to fully shake that feeling of claustrophobia from this morning when North handed me that brochure from the University of Pittsburgh, but I continue to push that away, chastising myself for being so silly.

Foster slaps his hand on the table, interrupting my thoughts. “Can we talk a moment about how that new Cold Fury defenseman, Adomaitis, absolutely ate it when Raff knocked him into the boards in the third?”

Atlas snickers. “That was poetry in motion. The guy looked like a baby deer trying to find his legs afterward.”

“Deer?” Rafferty scoffs, shaking his head. “He’s built like a damn moose. Took everything I had to keep him off Drake’s ass tonight.”

Willa grins, resting her chin in her hand. “You’re such a hero, Raff. Do you want us all to slow clap for you?”

Mazzy raises her drink. “I’ll do it. Slow claps are my specialty.”

“Don’t encourage him,” I say with a laugh.

North latches right on to the teasing. “Yeah, Abrams’s ego is big enough already.”

“Oh, like yours isn’t,” Rafferty fires back. “Who was it again who mimed a bow after his goal tonight?”

“That was different,” North says, smirking. “That was flair.”

“Flair, my ass,” Atlas chimes in, tipping his beer toward North. “You’re just lucky we didn’t have a wager on who’d score the game-winner. Foster and I would be rolling in it.”

Foster nods solemnly, though his lips twitch with amusement. “I told you we should’ve bet on it.”

“You guys bet on everything,” Willa says, rolling her eyes.

“Not everything,” Atlas protests, looking faux offended before his eyes land on me, the smirk inside evident. “We didn’t bet on… oh wait, yeah, we totally did.”

“What?” I ask, intrigued.

Atlas grins. “We had a running bet on whether you and North would last this long. I personally thought you’d kick his ass to the curb a long time ago.”

Everyone laughs but heat rushes to my cheeks as I glance up at North, whose expression shifts from amused to sheepish.

“You bet on us?” I ask, my attention back on Atlas.

“We absolutely did,” Foster confirms, his grin downright wicked, and my attention cuts to him. “I had my money on two weeks, so I’m guessing my boy had more charm than I thought.”

Again, more laughter.

Everyone laughing at the absurdity of me and North being together. Well, because I’m the absurd one with commitment issues.

“Two weeks,” I murmur, starting to feel a little dizzy.

I’ve heard that type of laughter before. Seen the mocking expressions.

“Rookie mistake,” King cuts in, sipping his whiskey. “It was obvious North was going to be extra charming to make sure Raff didn’t kill him.”

The table erupts in guffaws, Rafferty included.

“I hate you all,” North mutters, though there’s a smile tugging at his lips. He leans closer to me, his voice dropping low enough that only I can hear. “For the record, my charm is authentic and not exaggerated.”

Somewhere, deep inside me, I understand that this is just friendly teasing. I can see through the haze of bitter memories that North has no clue that I’m spiraling.

I want to get out of here but before I can move a muscle, Mazzy pipes up, “Wait, wait. Who won the bet?”

Atlas groans. “King did. The rest of us underestimated how determined North would be to get Farren to like him.”

Determined.

Like putting forth all this effort to win me over, for some ulterior motive? To win a bet? To give his buddies a laugh?

Is that right?

“Now wait a minute,” North says. “How much money are we talking about? Maybe I could have dragged it out a little further.”

Flash. Bright light, so blinding it sears into my brain. A cacophony of laughter, jeers, the sound of my name shouted like a punch line. My stomach dropping into a bottomless pit as I clutch at my dress, at my shame.

North pulls me into his side, gives me an affectionate squeeze. My entire body recoils against the action and I pull free from his embrace.

North’s gaze comes to mine and I don’t know what he sees, but his laugh dies on the spot. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” I rasp out, acknowledging the hurt that’s been dredged up from my past to intertwine with the hurt that’s being caused right now, and I can’t distinguish between the two .

Flash. My feet pounding against the gym floor as I run, the noise chasing me, the walls tilting and spinning as if the whole world is mocking me. The ache so sharp, it feels like I might shatter.

“I have to get out of here,” I say, grabbing my purse from the table and my coat off the back of a stool.

The table goes silent for a beat, the surrounding sounds muted as the spotlight is on me.

Flash, flash, flash.

North reaches for me but I jerk back, shaking my head. Shock flickers in his eyes, his jaw tightening. “What’s going on?”

I take a moment to hold on to the hurt, but it’s ebbing away. All my years of wisdom since that fateful day long ago have taught me about the true nature of men. I open up and let the anger fill me. “I guess I didn’t find it quite so funny that people bet on my life.”

“Your life?” North asks in confusion. “It was just a joke. It was—”

“Not fucking funny,” I yell at him.

I look at the table, seeing the shock on everyone’s faces and then their awkward glances at one another.

Atlas clears his throat, looking genuinely contrite. “We didn’t mean any harm. It was just a dumb joke, you know?”

I stare at him mutely, the tightness in my chest gripping harder. The laughter and camaraderie so comforting moments ago now feel like a spotlight, too bright and too focused on me, and now I’m embarrassed.

“Farren,” Rafferty says, so very cautiously as he takes a step toward me. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry… I need some air,” I mumble and head for the exit. The crowd is thick and I have to elbow and nudge people out of the way, but soon enough I’m in the cold January night where I take deep gulping breaths.

“Farren.” I turn to see North there, the worry on his face etched so deep, I’m not sure it will ever come out. “You have got to tell me what’s going on.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “You have to know that was all in good fun, right?”

I step back, his words only making the rage burn hotter. “Good fun? So, what—this is all just a game to you?”

North jerks slightly from not just the accusation I threw at him, but the bitterness in my voice. His brows knit together, confusion flickering across his face. “Farren, no. That’s not what I meant.”

But I can’t hear him over the rushing in my ears, the familiar weight of humiliation pressing down on me. My mind spirals back to that awful night in high school—the whispered laughs, the cruel words, the way I felt when I realized I was a pawn in someone else’s game.

“You should’ve told me,” I snap, my voice low but trembling with anger. “If this was just some joke to you, you should’ve told me.”

“Hold on,” North says, his voice sharpening. “That’s not what this is.”

“Oh, really?” I say. “Because it sure feels like it.”

“Farren, you’re blowing this out of proportion,” he says, his response tinged with frustration. “It was a stupid bet between the guys. It had nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

“How do I know that?” I shoot back, my voice rising. “How do I know this isn’t just some conquest for you? Another notch on your belt?”

North’s face hardens, his jaw clenching. “You really think that little of me?”

I falter, his words cutting deeper than expected. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Then maybe you should figure it out,” he says, his voice cold now. “Because I can’t keep proving myself to you if you’re always going to assume the worst.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to break down here. “This was a mistake,” I say, my voice shaking. “I knew it from the start. I tried to tell you.”

“You haven’t told me shit,” he snaps, righteous anger causing his face to flush. “You just tell me what you can and can’t give, and then something mysteriously sets you off and you’re ready to throw it all away? Real fucking mature. ”

“Hey,” Rafferty calls from behind, stepping out the door and walking toward us. “Everything okay?”

North throws his hands out but I’m shaking my head. “No. It’s not okay. I’m going home.”

“I’ll give you a ride,” North says.

“No,” I exclaim, holding out a hand to him. “I mean… I’m going home to Calgary. It was a mistake coming here.”

Rafferty and North exchange an uneasy look. I cross my arms over my stomach, bracing for North to make a better argument that I’m being ridiculous. To force me to some sort of truth that makes sense.

Instead, he turns toward Rafferty and claps him lightly on the shoulder. “I assume you’ll get her back to your place safely.”

He doesn’t even look at me as he heads back inside Mario’s.

Rafferty calls out after him. “That’s it?” North doesn’t respond and my brother whirls on me, asking the same question. “That’s it?”

“I guess,” I say lamely, feeling empty inside. The hurt is gone and so is the anger, and I just feel flat.

“So you’re running again,” he says with a mirthless laugh. “What a disappointment.”

I suck in a breath. “That’s harsh.”

“That’s the truth. Someone needs to give it to you.”

“You’re taking his side?” I ask, hating how small my voice feels.

How alone I feel.

Rafferty sighs. “I’m always on your side, but in this case it means me telling you you’re wrong.” He fishes in his pocket for his keys. “Come on… let’s go home.”