Page 113 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate

“Do you think they’ll ever have a hockey player be Mr. Right?” I ask.

“A hockey player?” Luke frowns. “They’ve never had a professional athlete on the show. Do you think people would find that interesting?”

I lie against the pillows and contemplate how wonderful Finn is and how I used to follow him for years. “Absolutely.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Finn

Banging sounds on my door, and my heart leaps.

Is it Noah? Is he back? Maybe he left his key in his haste and anger. Or maybe he wants to talk? I’ll tell him how sorry I am. I’ll kneel on the floor and beg him for forgiveness. I want to kiss his fingers, kiss everything.

I leave the dreary sorrow of my bedroom and hurry to the door, sliding on the polished floors. The hallway and kitchen whirl around me until I grab hold of the handle and swing the door open.

And though someone in Blizzards’ gear stares at me, it is not Noah.

“Troy?” I blink.

Troy glowers. His umber eyes have never been darker. “Hello destroyer.”

“Why are you here?”

Troy doesn’t bother to answer me. He brushes his shoulder against my chest as he storms inside so I stagger back.

“You’re my best friend,” I say, hating how petulant I sound, but unable to stop it. It’s all I can do to resist the urge to fling cups and saucers around the kitchen, just to hear them smash, to see something in my mind besides Noah’s face.

Troy’s whirls around. “Isn’t Noah your best friend?”

I’m silent. My heart races. He knows. Of course, he knows.

“Why did you try to annul your marriage?” Troy continues, angrier than I’ve ever seen him. He marches to my bedroom, even though every time he’s been here before, he had a wide smile on his face.

This isn’t what is supposed to be happening.

But I don’t know how to fix it.

“Um...”

“Isn’t that something most people let their spouses know beforehand?” Troy asks.

“I wanted to surprise him.”

Troy’s jaw drops. “Most people buy their spouses chocolate.”

Guilt and shame tangle in my body, flooding every cell. I cannot move. I stand still, watching as Troy flings open my closet.

He removes Noah’s suitcase. He doesn’t have to ask which one it is, because of course mine is the designer one like the asshole I am.

He unzips it open. “Fill it with Noah’s clothes.”

“I-I don’t want him to go.”

“So you’re holding his clothes hostage?”

I swallow hard. Can I do that?

“Don’t even think about it.” Troy moves away from me and starts pulling open drawers. The sound grates against my heart. “These his?”