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)
I can see the disbelief etched on his face. The way he crosses his arms in front of his chest and sneers down at me like I’m some kind of idiot.
Just then, I catch a set of footsteps approaching me from behind.
I turn, relieved to see Molly.
Finally.
Desperation claws at my throat.
“Tell him,” I all but beg her, too worried to register the flash of alarm in her eyes before she smooths over her expression.
In its place is a calm, cool mask.
A mask of a stranger.
Dane bristles instantly, his broad shoulders squaring like he’s prepared for a brawl. He moves like a wall between us. “How do you know my sister?”
Molly’s lips part. For a split second, I think she’s going to tell him the truth. That I actually showed up early. That all of this is an innocent mix-up. That I’m not the asshole Dane clearly thinks I am.
But then she hesitates, her blue-green eyes darting to mine with something I can’t quite read. Guilt? Panic? An apology?
“Molly . . .” Dane keeps his voice low. Gentle. “Are you okay?”
His eyes narrow as he takes in his sister, clearly soaking up her distressed appearance. She can paste on a blasé expression all she wants, but it won’t hide her messy hair and wrinkled shirt.
Dane’s face takes on an even harder edge. “Did this guy upset you?”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
This is even worse. Now, I’m basically being accused of harassment on top of being late.
My stomach drops as Molly stands there, motionless. The tension thickens the air around us. The entire hallway is silent, awaiting her answer.
A part of me can’t believe this is happening.
Why isn’t she saying anything?
I expected her to jump in and back me up.
Instead, she remains silent, her eyes fixed on the floor like it holds all the answers.
“Just say something,” I urge, the plea coming out rougher than I intended.
I hate that my voice cracks a little.
I hate the injustice of this all.
Dane steps closer, and even though we’re about the same height, his towering frame casts a shadow over me.
His jaw tightens, and his glare sharpens into something deadly. “Leave my sister alone.” The or else is silent but there.
“I didn’t do anything to her. I swear.” I lift my hands up defensively, trying to de-escalate the situation before it blows up even further, if that’s possible at this point. “I don’t even know her.”
“So you don’t know her.”
It escapes his mouth like a gotcha.
I glance at Molly, desperate for her to explain.
But she doesn’t.
Her shoulders are tense, her arms crossed tight against her chest as she stares at a spot over my shoulder, refusing to meet my eyes.
“Molly,” I say, quieter now. “Tell him the truth. Please.”
I feel like I’m in the fucking twilight zone.
Molly’s lips press into a thin line.
I think she won’t ever speak again.
So it shocks me when she finally says something, her voice steady. Too steady.
“We don’t know each other,” she says in a cool and detached tone. “He must have me confused with someone else.”
The lie lands like a slap.
I’m too stunned to react.
Molly’s gaze flicks back to Dane, her calm facade unshaken. “I’ve never met him before.”
The ground around me opens up.
She lied.
She lied.
Dane lets out a low, disbelieving laugh. “You mistook my sister for another chick. That it?”
“What?” I ask, genuinely stunned.
“I know guys like you. You’re all the same. You string along puck bunnies whose names you don’t even bother to remember.” His tone is sharp, each word laced with accusation. “Players that play on and off the ice.”
The insinuation hits hard. My blood starts to boil. “That’s not who I am.”
“Oh, really?” Dane edges closer, sneering down at my street clothes. “Because you sure as hell look the part.”
I clench my fists at my sides, fighting to keep my temper in check. I’ve never had a problem with it. But I’ve also never been accused of being a player for getting locked in a storage closet and helping a total stranger come down from a panic attack. If anything, I should be canonized into the sainthood.
I should’ve shut up and agreed with whatever they said when I had the chance.
I’m late without a reason? Yes, Coach.
I’m benched? Yes, Coach.
I’m a fucking player, even though I’ve never been into casual hookups. Fucking yes, Coach.
“Believe whatever you want,” I snap. “But I was in the closet with your sister. Molly Sinclair. Not anyone else.”
Dane raises an eyebrow, his gaze hard and unyielding. “Then why the hell didn’t she back you up?”
His question lands like a sucker punch. I glance at Molly again, searching for something—anything—in her expression that might give me a clue. But she’s still staring at the floor, her face unreadable. Hell, she can’t even meet my eyes. I don’t understand.
“Dane.” Mason’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “Chill. Let’s get to warmups before Coach has all our asses running suicides for the next week.”