Page 32 of Fall For Me
Fuck it!
Shifting in my seat, I fill him in. “Hannah came down onto the ice a couple of weeks ago, spewing some bullshit that got in my head. I only think it’s fair since she’s the one who fucked me up, she should be the one to fix me.”
Coach’s eyes flick from mine to Carter’s. “Is this true?”
I silently beg Carter with pleading eyes to go along with it.
“It’s true,” he finally says and I release a breath. “She really got in his head, and I can’t help him now for obvious reasons.”
“We have other coaches for that, Mackenzie. Use one of them,” Coach says, pinning me with a skeptical glare.
“It’s about accountability,” Carter surprises me by saying. “I agree with Mac. Maybe if she has to fix her mess, she’ll think twice about doing it again.”
Coach plops down on the sofa sitting adjacent to Carter’s desk and rubs the back of his neck. His eyes volley between the both of us, then he releases an exasperated sigh, “I don’t know what’s been going on with that girl. She hasn’t been herself in months. I’ll go talk to her after I’m done talking with Carter.”
Guilt gnaws at me for knowing what he doesn’t but it’s not my place to tell him, so I settle with a simple, “Thanks, Coach.”
“No problem. Now, mind giving us the room?”
With that, I clear out of Carter’s office, nearly pumping my fist in the air after closing the door behind me.
Take that Hannah Fucking Houdini!
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I pull it out to find a text from Carter.
Doc
You fucking owe me!
With a smile on my face, I head home knowing that the days ahead are going to be much better.
* * *
“This is bullshit and you know it!” Hannah yells across the ice as she shoots another puck my way. “There’s not a damn thing wrong with you!”
Dropping lower, I reach to the right and let the puck fly past me on the opposite side, hitting the top left corner of the net.
“Fuck!” I shout, feigning disappointment. “Hope you can fix this shit before pre-season, otherwise we’re going to be spendinga lotof time together.”
We’ve been at this every day after work for the past week. To say I’m enjoying our quality time together would be a complete and total lie because her attitude fucking sucks. That’s what happens when youdon’theed your—apparently much wiser—friend’s advice and plow back into your ex’s life. Damn was she mad when her dad delivered the news that she needed to fix what she “broke”. At first, her anger was sexy as hell, but now it’s exhausting. I just want the old Hannah back.
With fury blazing in her eyes, she swipes at a curl falling into her face, muttering under her breath. Then she lets another puck fly, and I pull the same shit as I did the last time, dropping low and letting it fly past my glove.
Maybe if I can find a way to make her to talk . . . get some of whatshe’s feeling off her chest, it’ll help.
“Arms getting tired there, Rebel? How about we play a little game?”
“I’m done playing your damn games.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, I can do this all night. Keep shooting till your arms give out. That’ll be fine by me,” I say as a puck skims past my mask.
So much for that idea.
Pucks litter the ice at Hannah’s feet. She winds up another shot, and the puck flies right at me, hitting me in the chest. I could’ve caught it, but I’m not giving in until I break her down. With speed and precision that I haven’t seen many people possess; she shoots puck after puck, right at my chest and mask.
That’s it, baby. Get it all out.
“You done pretending, asshole?!”
