Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
She tries and fails to glare at me, her eyes narrowing, but her cheeks still flushed. “Not what I was talking about.”
“Was it?”
“You’re impossible,” she whispers, her tone still breathless from the kiss.
“Yet you kissed me back,” I say with a grin, dropping my voice just enough to make her blush harder.
Before she can snap back, Mason’s voice echoes closer, loud and annoyed. “Hudson, come on, man.” He sounds like he’s shouting into the void—unaware I’m here but banking on the slim chance that I can somehow hear him. “Coach wants us to talk to the media. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”
Shit.
That is one thing I can’t afford to do.
Mason continues to shout the same thing over, his voice growing further away this time. I can imagine him dipping from room to room, sweeping the place for me. Not for nothing, he’s a killer friend.
I sigh, stepping back from Molly, but I don’t let go of her gaze. She’s still standing there, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed, and I’m not sure which one of us looks more wrecked.
My eyes locked on hers. “We’ll finish this later.”
“You wish,” she retorts, but the words lack heat. Her gaze betrays her, lingering just a little too long on my mouth before darting away.
I grin, tilting my head as I take another step back like I’m giving her space, but we both know it’s not enough. “Keep telling yourself that.”
She scoffs, crossing her arms like she’s trying to regain some kind of upper hand, but I don’t miss the way she swallows hard.
Mason’s voice echoes one last time, distant now. “Hudson Whatever-The-Fuck-Your-Middle-Name-Is Wilde. If you’re screwing around somewhere, Coach is gonna bench your ass.”
I shoot Molly one last look, a silent promise hanging in the air between us.
We will finish this.
It’s just a question of when.
And judging by the way her eyes flick to mine and hold there for just a second longer, she knows it, too.
41
Molly
Unknown Number sent an attachment.
[Link: “Hudson Wilde—Hockey God or Hockey Legend? Why Not Both?”]
Unknown Number: Thought you’d like to read this. Since you’re my #1 fan.
Molly: Who is this?
Unknown Number: You’re joking.
Molly: Sorry, new phone. Lost all my IMPORTANT contacts.
Unknown Number: You’ve had the same phone since I met you.
Molly: 🤷♀️ I don’t save numbers of men who annoy me for a living.
Unknown Number: That’s a lie. I annoy you recreationally. I don’t even get paid for it.
Molly: That’s unfortunate for you.
Unknown Number: You’re telling me. I’d be a billionaire by now.
Molly: Congrats on the article, though. Truly. You must be so humble about it.
Unknown Number: Humility is for people who AREN’T described as a hockey god. I’m just embracing the truth.
Molly: Right, because your ego clearly needed a boost.
Unknown Number: I’m here to inspire. It’s practically a public service.
Molly: You should put that on your résumé. “Hockey god, legend, and part-time philanthropist dedicated to fixing overpopulation by annoying innocent victims to death.”
Unknown Number: Don’t forget “bringer of joy” and “man of the people.”
Molly: Man of the people?????? Who are these people? And are you sure they don’t live inside your head?
Unknown Number: My fans. The same ones who chant my name. Don’t act like you haven’t heard it.
Molly: Oh, I hear it. It’s hard not to when they’re chanting it at decibels that could shatter glass.
Unknown Number: It’s the sound of greatness, Hex. You’ll get used to it.
Molly: I’ll put in earplugs.
Unknown Number: Still won’t drown me out. I’m unforgettable.
Molly: Unbearable is the word you’re looking for.
Unknown Number: Close enough. So . . . you saving this number yet?
Molly: Nah. I’ll just keep calling you “Who is this?” It feels right.
Unknown Number: Unbelievable. I’ll have you know that I’ve been described as a god AND a legend. Yet you’re treating me like a scam caller.
Molly: Honestly, you do give scammer vibes.
Unknown Number: Keep talking to me like this and I’m billing you for my therapy.
Molly: Oh, please, you love it.
Unknown Number: . . .
Molly: We both know you have a degradation kink. Why else would you still talk to me after four years of being thoroughly roasted?
Unknown Number: Shut up and save my number, Hex. You’ll need it when you decide you can’t resist me anymore.
Molly: Don’t hold your breath, Wilde.
Unknown Number: I’ll wait. You’re worth it.
Molly: Nice try.
Unknown Number: So that’s a no on saving the number?
Molly: Hard pass.
Unknown Number: Unreal.
Molly: Go read your article again, Hockey God. Maybe it’ll comfort you.
Unknown Number: Don’t worry. I’ll send you more tomorrow. Can’t let you forget me.
42
Molly
Who is this? sent an attachment.
[Link: Hudson Wilde: Best Right Wing of the Century.]
Who is this?: Your daily dose <3
Molly: [Screenshot of their messages with the name “Who is this?” circled in red.]
Who is this?: Unreal.
43
Molly
I stir my coffee, my gaze trained on the swirling cream as if it holds the answers to the question, but really, I can’t stop thinking about the kiss from two nights ago.