Page 68 of Twisted Play (Cruel Games #1)

COLE

The tension on the team bus climbed with every mile we drove.

Last year, the Hawks robbed us of our championship.

This year, we wanted to do it right back to them.

Instead of curling up with my toy, as was my wont on away games, I sat beside Tristan, who sprawled next to me, radiating tension with every breath.

He scrolled through his phone, his knee bouncing against mine, checking the same three apps over and over—weather, texts from his brother, sports news about the scouts rumored to be at tonight’s game.

His agitation was infectious. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him this wound up before a game. But then, this wasn’t just any game. For me, it was another step toward the NHL. For Tristan? Everything rode on the next few hours.

“Fucking stop,” I snapped, holding his knee still with a hand on his upper thigh.

His eyes slid toward where I touched him. I should move it. I shouldn’t fucking like the possessive feeling that overcame me when I touched him. Tristan was mine as much as Eva was .

And maybe it was time he realized that too.

“My brother’s bringing scouts tomorrow,” he said quietly. “Said there’s interest from three teams.”

I jerked my hand away, feeling six kinds of gross for the direction of my thoughts. The last thing Tristan needed was me muddying the waters of our friendship with sex while he was amping himself up for this game.

To my surprise, he wrapped his fingers around mine and held me in place. He squeezed my hand, staring straight ahead, every muscle in his body stiff, as if he was fighting a battle just to force the words out.

“This could be it. My one shot,” he whispered, continuing to stare straight head. “Cedric wanted to play hockey, but my dad was never going to move from ranch hand to landowner without help, and my NHL dreams were so fucking expensive. He’s pulled a lot of strings to get scouts here for me.”

My stomach clenched. Unlike me, Tristan didn’t have a guaranteed spot waiting for him, no billions smoothing his path, just raw talent and determination.

I closed my eyes and leaned back in my seat. His brother was leveraging his business connections to open doors for Tristan, doors his family would never have been able to open.

“You’ve got this,” I murmured.

Tristan wiggled in the seat, his broad shoulders brushing against mine until his head leaned on my shoulder. Warmth bloomed in my chest.

He turned his cheek so he could nuzzle into my shoulder, and I’d never wanted to reach out and haul him to me more, to make him admit we could be more than best friends .

I was an asshole, but not that much of an asshole.

First, I’d make him look good on the ice.

And then, I’d show him and Eva just how good we could really be together.