Page 16 of Your Biggest Downfall (Ravens Hockey #3)

I eyed the guy who had tapped Austin on the shoulder.

He had a put-together appearance, with slicked-back brown hair that hung just above his eyes, and he was wearing a polo and jeans.

His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and a faint smirk played on his lips.

He was like one of those prep boys I only saw in British movies.

Austin leaned in close, and his warm breath fanned against my ear as he whispered, “Do you trust me?”

I should have absolutely no reason to trust Austin Hart, but I did, so I nodded. There was something about it—a camaraderie like we both somehow understood the same things in a way.

Austin grabbed my hand again, and I held my seltzer in the other as we followed the guy toward the back of the bar. Occasionally he’d look back at me as we wove through the throng of people. His smile was affectionate as we got to a dark corner of the club right outside what looked like an office.

The guy pushed open the door, and sure enough, there was a small desk in the middle of the room with an old wooden chair in front of it. No one else was in here, and piles of disheveled papers littered the floor.

I whispered, which felt silly because it was only the three of us in the room, “What’re we doing in here?”

The corners of Austin’s lip furled into a smile as he let go of my hand, grabbed his wallet from his pocket, and pulled out a hundred.

“Thanks, man,” Austin said, and the guy passed him what looked like white... baking powder stuffed inside a sandwich baggy?

No. It couldn’t be. Panic swelled inside me, making my heart race. I shifted uneasily on my feet, wishing I was wearing pants or jeans so I could shove my hands into the pockets—a habit when I felt uncomfortable. I wanted to curl up into a ball and run away from this whole situation.

I took a step backward, my mind reeling. Not only were we trespassing in a private office, but now Austin Hart, America’s hockey star, was illegally in a bar about to do drugs.

From a PR standpoint, this was a disaster.

My logical side screamed that I needed to get far, far away from here.

This was messy, and I didn’t do messy. My entire life was already a shit show, and I didn’t need to get involved in this.

.. Whatever the hell this was. My instincts were in overdrive, urging me to get out before everything spiraled further out of control.

“Thanks, man,” the brown-haired guy said to Austin as he shook his hand. He walked toward the door and gave me a little nod. “Have fun” was all he said as he left, closing the door behind him.

I slowly turned around to face Austin, who was oblivious to my panic. In fact he’d taken some of the powder from the bag and his credit card from his wallet and was making a nice little neat line on the table.

I closed the distance between us, grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him so his face was in front of mine.

“What the fuck, Austin?”

He didn’t move, but when my words registered, he chuckled. “I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen, Supernova. I only do it during the offseason.”

“Why me?” I asked.

“Because I wanted you here tonight...” He tilted his head, and whispered, “With me.”

A battle was going on inside me—a raging war, so to speak.

The logical part of me knew I should walk away.

This was someone who was clearly not in the right state of mind.

But my illogical side, the one that was attracted to Austin and cared for him, wanted to know his reasoning—his why for doing this.

“I don’t get it.” I threw my hands in the air as he shoved the little bag in the back pocket of his jeans.

But it didn’t escape me that he still held the credit card, and the line of white powder was still on the desk.

“You do, though, Nova. I’m so fucking tired of living here and constantly chasing something. I just had the worst game of my career, and the pressure to perform is crushing me.”

I shook my head, running my fingers through my curls, tugging at them in frustration. His words hit so close to home. He was describing my feelings perfectly.

“Me too, Austin. I feel the pressure too, like I’m being pulled in a hundred different directions, yet no one actually wants me there.

I’m always fucking second best at everything I do, and now I can’t even crush on a guy properly because here I am, in the back of a fucking bar, doing something illegal.

” I let out a huge sigh. “I suck at even the easiest fucking things.”

Austin lifted his brows as his lips crawled into a smirk. “You have a crush on me?”

Of course I have a fucking crush on you.

From the moment he sat with me that night, I had a crush on him, but he was young and clearly wrapped up in his family drama. I felt bad now because all he wanted was to escape his life, and nagging him about drugs would likely only push him further away.

I decided to keep it light, so I rolled my eyes and turned away from him. “That’s what you got from that?”

Suddenly, his hands snaked around my middle, and he pulled my back against his broad chest. He gently tilted my chin up and to the side, and his lips brushed against my cheek.

“It’s a small high. It helps me escape. I brought you here because I, too, may have a small crush on you and thought maybe you’d want to escape too.

” His lips lingered against the soft skin of my cheek.

“I’ve never... done it,” I finally managed to say.

He caressed my chin while pulling at my waist, spinning me so we were chest to chest.

“Watch me do it first, then try a little bump if you want to. I promise to keep you next to me the whole time. I’m warning you though, I probably won’t be able to keep my hands off you.” He winked.

“How long does it last?” I asked.

“A little bump? Maybe twenty minutes.” He shrugged.

I looked up, and we were so close, our lips were playing this Will you, won’t you dance with each other.

“Tell me why. Give me a reason.” My pulse pounded in my ears. “I just need to know your why.”

He shook his head, his finger gripped tight on my hips. “I learned last year that my mother was raped. I was the product of the assault. I always thought my dad was just too young and didn’t want me, but I learned that I have the DNA of a rapist.” His voice broke.

My hands flew behind his neck, pulling us closer. That was why he was stressed that night.

“No. Austin. You are nothing like that sperm donor,” I told him. “I didn’t know my dad growing up either. He left us when my mom was so young, and I often thought of how, one day, I’d do the same thing as him. I’d just pack up and leave because I shared the same blood he did.”

“And?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for answers I wasn’t even sure I had.

“And, I don’t know. Maybe one day I’ll leave everyone I love because I’m selfish, but I’m not this ghost of someone who donated his DNA to me. You are not yours.”

“I only do this during the offseason if I’m having a shit day, I promise. After the loss, I had to come up to the press box, but I wanted to wallow alone.”

“I get that,” I said honestly. “I do.”

Our confessions hung in the quiet that followed, making everything feel more intense. This moment might offer a brief escape from that heaviness, but it also terrified me. Everything about tonight scared me.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered, leaning down toward me.

“Why?” My eyes went wide with my question.

“Because I need to feel something real. And I think you do too.”

His lips hovered inches from mine, his breath warm on my skin. He slid his hand up to cup my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. Tension coiled inside me, a mix of fear and desire that left me trembling.

My heart pounded as our lips finally met. The kiss was slow and tentative at first, a hesitant exploration of newfound territory. But as the seconds ticked by, it deepened, growing more urgent, more insistent.

The moment he moaned, I was lost. Lost in the moment, in what he was giving me. I wanted more. I wanted more of him, and he could give it to me.

I pulled away, my eyes fluttering open. “I’ll do a small line,” I said softly, and a smile crept onto his lips.

“Are we going to talk about how that kiss was fucking earth shattering? That I would drop to my knees and beg you to do it again if I had to?” he asked.

I laughed. “No. We aren’t going to talk about that.”

He brought his fingers to my chin, rubbing, and then he turned back toward the table.

“How did you get in this room?” I asked.

“I paid the owner.”

“What?” I balked.

“Nah, Supernova. The team’s giving him a shit ton of business tonight, so he gave us the room to fuck some bunnies in if we wanted it. No one was using it, so it’s fine.”

Okay, so I guess if there was a silver lining to all this, being in here was probably the least illegal thing we were doing all night.

Yet all I kept thinking of from a PR point of view was that this was such a bad look. Anyone could walk in?—

As if Austin could read my mind, he walked to the door, locked it, and said, “Let’s reach the stars, Supernova.”

I giggled, realizing how absolutely cheesy that sounded. “Okay, Austin.”

I sank down into the wooden chair, a growing unease filling me as I waited for him to show me what to do.

He picked his credit card back up and made sure the line was straight, then he grabbed a bill from his pocket and rolled it up tightly.

He held one nostril closed while he sniffed the line off the desk through the rolled bill, leaving an amount no bigger than the pad of my pinky out.

“Fuck,” he said as he rubbed his nose.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, my eyes narrowing in on this whole situation.

If someone had asked me two weeks ago, I never would have expected that I’d be sitting in this room with Austin Hart, the famous hockey player, after he kissed me, and then doing a bump of cocaine.

No. This wasn’t on my bingo card for the year, but neither was feeling like my world was suffocating me.

Truthfully, if anyone asked me if I was even hanging out with the team outside of work, I’d have laughed in their face.

Sure, Austin and I always had a friendship, but I could’ve sworn this year was the end for us.

Between Mami’s diagnosis, Aunt Mae moving in with her, and my internship, maybe it was me who was pulling away.

“Nah.” He shut his eyes. “The high takes about five minutes to hit. I wanna coach you through it, but we’re going to need you to do it now.”

I stood up from the chair. “Tell me what to do,” I said bravely, an instant numbness coating my logical brain.

He smiled and used his credit card to push the remaining white powder onto the crease in his hand where his thumb and index finger met.

“Hold one nostril and sniff.”

I took a few steps closer to him, and with his free hand, he snaked his arm around my waist again.

With wide eyes, I looked up at him. “You won’t leave me?” I asked.

“Never, Supernova.”

I leaned down, held one nostril, and sniffed on his rough, calloused fingers. The powder was a shock and felt coarse in my nose, but it wasn’t hard.

“Good girl,” Austin crooned. “You’re my good girl.”