Page 28 of Trick Shot (Bainbridge Hockey #4)

“Ma decided to stay here with the boys, and I’d already been accepted to a school up north.

The thought of leaving them sucked, though—Kaden Kersey, he’s our backup goalie and my Gramma’s neighbor—he’d already committed to BU and he dragged me along to skate with the team one day after school.

It all just kinda clicked. I met with the athletic director and an admissions counselor that afternoon.

They told me to come in for a scholarship test on Saturday, and I didn’t think there was any more to it.

I was just hoping that whatever money I got would be enough to match Clarkson’s offer. ”

“So you could stay close to your family,” I say, piecing the details together.

“Yeah, I mean, the boys were both in middle school. Neither one of them could drive yet, and even though my mom and grandma are two of the most capable people I know, we had a lot going on back then. I knew an extra set of hands—and wheels—would help. Plus, I hated the idea of leaving. It felt too close to what my dad had done.”

My frozen heart cracks a little at his words. “You needed that scholarship,” I say, as much to myself as to him.

“So did you, Claire. So did every person sitting in that auditorium. The fact is, my family situation wasn’t a factor for the athletic director or the admissions counselor.

It’s what was driving me, but all they saw was a big dude who could fly across the ice.

I filled a vacancy that left their team vulnerable.

They needed me to keep the assholes the hell away from Booker and Van.

And now Will. They let me sit for that test because there were no more athletic scholarships.

They figured that with my grades I could get enough money that BU would edge out what Clarkson had offered.

They didn’t intend for me to get a full ride. I didn’t either.”

“You said your mom’s okay, though, right?” Nothing else feels nearly as important as that detail.

“She is,” he says, nodding. “Well, mostly. But the fact is you were right. My privilege got me in that door. That’s something I never even stopped to consider.”

I’m shaking my head before he finishes his sentence.

“But you clearly needed to be there. And they never told you the deadline had passed. It wasn’t your job to know that.

” All the bravado and anger I’ve nurtured for the past three and a half years melts into a puddle and dissipates.

None of this was part of Pete’s master plan.

It’s just the way things happened. “I was short-sighted. I didn’t know any of that, and I never asked. I just held a grudge.”

Pete shrugs before stepping away from the wall and joining me on the bench. “It doesn’t matter. Like I said, the college didn’t bend the rules because of my family circumstances. They bent the rules because it benefited them. And that hurt you. I’m sorry for that.”

I look at the man sitting next to me, the man I’ve resented, the one I’ve lusted after.

The one who would have definitely been my friend if this mess hadn’t gotten in the way.

“Maybe and I’m saying maybe here,” I tell him, “it’s possible that I overreacted.

That my grudge-holding skills are top-notch.

That maybe I should have done a little investigating of my own. ”

Pete’s handsome face blooms into a smile. “Investigating does seem to be your strong suit.”

“Ouch,” I tell him as he laughs.

His teammates are back, carrying a tank with a lizard in it.

That’s not so strange, but the lava lamp and beach chair are unexpected.

Although, really, nothing surprises me when it comes to these guys.

Not even the frosty vibes I’m getting from Jenksy.

He’s an athlete and I came for his people. He can feel his feelings.

The guys get busy arranging their set up and I’m almost afraid to ask what they have planned.

Pete stays seated next to me and the silence that stretches between us isn’t hostile or even tense.

It’s neutral. Okay, it could turn hot as hell if we were alone and I let it, but neither of those things will ever be true.

Pete may not be my sworn enemy any longer, but he’s not getting promoted any higher than that. My libido can settle down .

No, really , I scold my inner harlot, calm the fuck down . He’s just a man and it’s just a beard and everyone probably smells that good and wears the hell out of a cut-off hoodie the way he does.

Before my vagina seizes control of my brain, I launch myself off the bench and take the lava lamp from Mickey’s hands like I’m inspecting it.

“Aw, shit, can we use it?” he asks. “Or will it throw off the lights you already have set up?”

Bless this man. He’s playing along and he doesn’t even know it.

I’m about to toss out some bullshit about light temperatures, but I’m distracted by the parade of douche canoes traipsing across the lobby.

It’s not just your average bro line, either.

This one has Shane Lowery at the helm. He shoots the guys an upnod and then focuses his attention on me.

I have no doubt he’s pissed that I blew the whistle on his little assignment-stealing operation.

But what’s that saying? Play stupid games, win the wrath of a strong-willed woman. Yeah, it’s something like that.

“You setting your sights on the hockey team, now, Claire? Are you just gonna pick off the teams one by one? Is that your plan?”

Pete’s off the bench and by my side before Shane’s done talking. I can appreciate the assist, but I don’t need it.

Squaring my shoulders, I look at Shane directly.

We’re about the same height, so it’s easy to meet his gaze.

“Is my plan to call out cheating when I see it? Favoritism? To let Bainbridge students know when the playing field is far from fair? Yeah, Shane, as a journalist, that’s part of my plan. Look at you cracking the code.”

Pete’s hand wraps around my shoulder and I can’t quite tell if he’s offering comfort or getting ready to hold me back from punching this idiot in the mouth.

Shane’s eyes widen as he notices the gesture. “What the hell is this? Are you fucking with the enemy, Santos? Do you have any idea the shitstorm she stirred up?”

I can feel Pete’s body stiffen beside me. “Claire’s not an enemy—” he starts, but Shane cuts him off.

“Are you taking her fucking side?”

“How about you watch your fucking mouth,” Mickey says, coming to stand on my other side.

Shane shakes his head and turns to his buddies. “Do you see this shit?”

“Just back off,” Ollie says, joining the little line we’ve formed. From the corner of my eye, I notice that Jenksy hasn’t moved.

“No,” Shane says, “I want to know what the hell the hockey boys are doing with Claire Fowler. What’s got you all stepping in to defend our intrepid little reporter?”

“I don’t need defending,” I say, but Mickey interjects, stepping forward to face Shane.

“We’ve got Claire’s back. That’s all you need to know.”

“Why?” Shane persists, and though he’s an absolute dickhole, he’s asking a valid question. I’m curious, too.

Before I can tell him to mind his own business or Pete can formulate a response, Ollie pipes up. “Because she’s Pete’s girlfriend. And that makes her family.”