Page 25

TWENTY-FOUR

Damon

I’m standing in the shadows, fighting a smile.

Amused by the confident way she shut down that asshole reporter with a smug smile I want to punch off his face.

A face that I recognize from somewhere, though I don’t know where.

I make a mental note to find out—mostly, so I can make sure the fucker’s press credentials are revoked.

Take that, asswipe. Joey embarrasses him on camera, and then I’ll take out the trash.

But aside from garbage reporters, I’m enjoying the show.

Because I’m fucking proud of her.

I sat in the box, watching the shit go down on the ice, wanting to rush down to rink level, to tear into the refs myself.

Joey had done that so I didn’t have to.

Same as Joey having the asshole interviewer by the balls.

No . Having all of them by the balls.

I know it by her tart response, by the questions that follow—far less adversarial than before.

I know it by the way she ends the interview on her terms.

Thatta girl.

Turning, I start for the room she’s using for an office.

Storm is standing outside it, still in his skates and the bottom half of his gear.

“You good?” I ask as I approach.

His eyes slide to the side, searching the hall behind me and his expression falls, I presume because he doesn’t immediately spot Joey.

Damn.

The kid is going to be a problem.

“Just need to talk to Coach for a?—”

His gaze jerks behind me again, and I watch his eyes light up before I turn to see Joey walking our way.

Yup.

Fuck.

The kid is seriously going to be a problem.

Joey’s eyes drift to mine then over to Storm. A moment later she glances back to me, asks softly, “We’ll talk on the plane?”

I nod. “My stuff will hold.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs, squeezing my forearm as she moves by me, “Storm. You need to chat?”

“Yeah, Coach. Thanks.”

She pats his shoulder, tilts her head to the door.

He extends his hand, silently telling her to precede him, and though he’s not a fucking pig about it, Storm looks.

At her ass.

At my ass.

My ass. Mine . Every inch of Joey is fucking mine.

Red hazes into the edges of my vision and I take a step forward before I catch myself, my temper slipping enough to send a bucket of cold reality over my head.

Fuck.

Because it takes everything in me to stop, to not get in the kid’s face, to not warn him to leave my fucking woman alone, and it takes even more to turn and walk away.

But I manage to do it, gritting my teeth together, fisting my hands, holding myself so goddamned taut that I barely breathe as I turn the corner and stride into one of the empty offices, closing the door.

Each movement careful.

Slowed.

Controlled.

So as not send a single spark toward my already primed and explosive temper.

I did that once.

And it ruined everything.

It was worth it, worth the peace it brought to my sister…but it brought a fuck-ton of pain first.

And I won’t risk Joey’s future.

“Fuck,” I whisper, dropping my head to the door and breathing slowly.

In and out.

In and out.

This is why I don’t do relationships.

This is why I keep my distance from any woman who might have a hold on me.

It’s dangerous for them. And I’ve already proven that I can’t be trusted to protect the women I care for?—

Mid-spiral, my phone rings.

And I’m so fucking close to the edge that normally I would ignore it.

But it’s on vibrate.

It doesn’t ring for anyone other than?—

“Kylie,” I say after swiping across the screen and quickly lifting my phone to my ear. “Is everything okay?”

“Christ,” she says on an aggrieved sigh. “I knew you’d be like this.”

My eyebrows drag together. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You care about her and you’re losing it.”

“About who?”

And, fuck, but that sounds exactly like the lie it is, even to my own ears.

“Nice try, big bro,” she says. “Now save us both some time and lay off the excuses. Just tell me why you’re freaking out about Joey.”

“I’m fine.”

Another lie.

And she doesn’t buy this one either.

“Bullshit.”

“Ky,” I say. “It’s getting late. I have to get ready to meet the plane.”

“You do. But the game’s only been over for thirty minutes. Half the guys aren’t even showered yet, so there’s no way anyone is waiting for you.”

It’s annoying how much my sister knows about my life—including how much she knows about my job.

I scowl then push off the door, rubbing the ache in my temple.

But I don’t reply.

I don’t need to.

She’s still going.

“You and Joey,” she presses. “I was at brunch, honey. I saw the sparks, and Beth agrees with me. You two…” She whistles. “The heated looks. The way your bodies orbit around each other. How you’re always keeping track of exactly where she is?—”

My lungs inflate on a rush of air.

But my sister’s words don’t stop.

“I know I told you to fix it for her and I honestly thought it would be like what you did for Ivy, for me, but Damon…there’s more between you two.” A beat. “And just swooping in to make things right and backing off is never going to be enough for you—not for either one of you.”

She’s not wrong.

The intractable draw. The unquenchable need.

The desire to claim and ravish and keep.

“And because of that—and the likelihood of alone time near horizontal surfaces by having your choice of hotel rooms—” She laughs lightly. “I’m guessing things changed for the better.” My sister’s voice gentles. “Even if you don’t believe that right now.”

Still not wrong.

Dammit, why does she have to be so fucking smart?

Why does she have to know me so well?

“You’re scared, Damon.”

“I can’t let this happen, Ky. I can’t . One of the players looked at her butt tonight, and I almost rammed my fist down his throat. It took everything in me to walk away. If someone does more than look, if I see Hiller?—”

I clench my fists so tightly that my nails bite into my palms.

“I can’t lose control like that again,” I say softly. “You know why. You lived the nightmare?—”

“You’re not that man anymore, Damon,” she replies, just as softly. “You took the classes, got the therapy. You have techniques to control your anger, and you’re older and wiser and infinitely more mature. You’re not going to act without thinking, not going to do something that might hurt her.”

“How can you possibly believe that?”

“Because what you think was a nightmare for me—the attention, the fallout afterward—was the complete opposite.”

“You hated it,” I whisper.

“I hated it— hate it—but only because you suffered.” She exhales and it’s the slightest bit shaky. “Never be in any doubt that I know exactly how precious a gift it was that you gave me.”

“Ky.” Fuck, my eyes burn.

“Honey, you made it so I could dream again—and not just while I’m sleeping.”

My throat goes tight. “ Ky ,” I rasp again.

“You deserve to be more than just a man who fixes things. You deserve to have someone who looks at you the way Joey looks at you.”

Heart pounding, I ask, “How does she look at me?”

There’s a blip of quiet.

“You already know the answer to that, big bro. But”—her voice is gentle but laced with teasing—“since I know you’re reeling, I’ll give you that one.”

I inhale silently, brace for the painful pleasure of the words to come.

“Like the sun rises and sets by you.”

I close my eyes.

“Which, for the record, is the same way that you look at her.”