Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Some of the Wildcats players are still hanging around as we reach the lobby. A shiver skates down my spine when my gaze is snagged by a dark, brooding one. Even without a jersey that has his name stamped across the back of it, I know exactly who this guy is.
During the game, I’d tried telling myself that the little zips I’d felt every time our eyes locked were a figment of my imagination.
That’s no longer possible.
His eyes narrow as he pins me in place with a hard-edged stare.
The connection is only severed when one of the girls who’d been holding a sign with River’s name scrawled across it slams into his chest and twines her arms around his neck before pressing her lips against his.
I hate referring to any girl as a flavor of the week, but that’s been River’s track record for the past few years. There’s absolutely no point in me getting to know them. They’re here and gone before I can blink. There hasn’t been anyone of significance since he and Sabrina parted ways freshman year of college.
I’m just about to untangle myself from my brother when he slips his other arm around the overenthusiastic girl as we head to the exit.
Unable to help myself, I sneak another glance at the hot hockey player. Our eyes collide for the umpteenth time tonight, and my feet stutter at the disgust stamped across his expression. It’s written in the hard glint that now fills his icy depths and the curl of his upper lip.
My heart kicks up into overdrive as River tugs me along before smirking at Maverick.
“Tough loss, McKinnon. Better luck next time.”
5
Maverick
There’s only one way to describe the mood at Slap Shotz, and that’s somber. Frustration and anger hang heavy in the air. This isn’t the first game we’ve lost this season, but let’s just say it’s not a regular occurrence.
The fact that it happened against our biggest conference rival only adds salt to the wound.
No one is taking it well. A few guys are drowning their sorrows in glasses of cheap beer. Others are rehashing the game play by play, trying to figure out where it all went to shit.
Plus, no one’s looking forward to the next practice. Coach will rip us a new one, all the while putting us through the wringer. It wouldn’t surprise me if a few of the younger players throw in the towel afterward and quit the team.
That thought sinks to the bottom of my belly like a heavy stone, where it settles uncomfortably.
No doubt about it—we’re definitely going to get the shit kicked out of us.
And I have the sneaking suspicion that I’ll get the brunt of it.
I was distracted and allowed my emotions to get the better of me.
Realizing how my future will play out, I down the rest of my beer and decide to head home. I caught a ride to the arena and then the bar with Hayes and Bridger.
I flick a glance in their direction.
Neither look very happy, so it’s doubtful they’ll stick around for long.
As I set the empty glass on the bar, the back door swings open and a dozen guys saunter in with grins plastered across their smug faces.
My gaze narrows as I catch sight of River fucking Thompson.
You have to be seriously shitting me right now.
What the fuck are these clowns doing here?
At our bar?
The place where we always hang out?
Everyone knows that Slap Shotz unofficially belongs to the Western Wildcats.
My gaze slides to the girl glued to his side, and every muscle tenses, going on high alert.
Blondie.
After she walked out of the arena, I never expected to see her again. As soon as our gazes collide, her eyes widen as she stutters to a stop. The douche at her side sends a questioning look her way.
It’s tempting to bare my teeth and knock him away from her.
How is it possible that she’s even more beautiful than I remembered?
River leans down and murmurs something in her ear. She rips her attention away from me long enough to meet his questioning gaze. A potent concoction of anger and jealousy bursts to life inside me as he drapes his arm around her again.
The visceral reaction I’m having to this girl is almost enough to give me pause. I search my memories, unable to remember a time when I’ve felt anything like it.
And that includes with Sabrina.
Until this moment, I didn’t think it was possible to feel more.
After Mom’s cancer diagnosis in high school, I’ve done everything within my power not to feel anything too deeply. Those months of chemo were a dark period for everyone in the family. The fear and uncertainty that she could be ripped from our lives sat at the bottom of my belly like a heavy, unmovable weight. It’s not something I want to go through again.