Page 49 of Dangle

“No. It’s not. It’s definitely not. How don’t you know this?”

His face fell, and he said, “Because all I know is hockey. Well, hockey and how to schmooze at galas with expensive, shitty, rubber chicken dinners. Those are the only two things that matter to my family. It’s all I’ve ever known. All my fancy homeschooling governess taught me.”

I stared at him, fucking mind blown. That…was…weird. The kid talked like he was…a fucking dunce or some shit. And I felt like an asshole for triggering his fucking reaction.

But…

There was no fucking way.

Trey was captain of his college hockey team at one of the toughest schools in the country to get into. And yeah, the culture around collegiate sports, especially at this level, was that players played and the school made sure of it, but I knew Will Grigor. Had known him since he himself played hockey. And I knewAlex. Maybe not as well, but neither of them was the grade-fixing type. Hell, Alex held study groups for the boys at his house after Aiden’s accident, and I remember him talking about the boys on the team and how he expected the legacy kids to be entitled brats. How they very much weren’t.

Besides, I witnessed the work Trey put in. On the flight down, he did homework while his buddies poked fun at him and goofed off. A kid didn’t do that shit or put up with the heckling if they weren’t committed.

Pulling open the dishwasher, I loaded it quickly, ignoring all his blubbering about doing it wrong, and slammed the door shut before dragging him back to the living room. I dropped my ass on the corner of the sectional, legs spread wide to make room for him between them—one leg stretched out along the back cushions, the other hanging off over the edge, foot planted firmly on the floor.

With him tucked into the V of my thighs, his back to my chest, my arms banded around him, I asked, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll explain all the differences if you do something for me.”

THIRTEEN

TREY

If he’d asked me that in the kitchen, I would’ve probably dropped to my knees for him again even though I knew he probably wouldn’t take me up on the offer a second time. I blitz attacked the man the first time with his defenses down.

“Depends on what you want.”

“I want you to explain what the hell happened last night.”

“Couldn’t tell you. I was too drunk, remember?” Too drunk to fuck, according to the sexy beast behind me.

“Don’t give me that shit, boy. You know what I’m talking about. You were flirty, funny, and just passed slightly tipsy all night. Then it felt like someone flipped the self-destruct asshole switch when we walked outside the doors downstairs. You changed, like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde or some shit.”

Silky strands ghosted my palms as I shoved my hands through my hair before scrubbing them over my head and face. The texts from my dad the night before became a living image in my mind. The screen of my phone lit up the dark entrance to the club as if present me got dropped into past me’s body.

DAD

[IMAGE]

What the hell are you doing in fucking Nashville?

You realize New York is watching your every move, right?

Are you trying to fuck up your life?

Or just my motherfucking legacy?

Once the texts came in, I turned off my phone and still hadn’t bothered to check it since shutting it down. I could only imagine what awaited me when I powered it on.

“I fucking hate how this is gonna sound.”

“Just say it. Don’t worry about how things sound. I’m not judging.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes so hard tears blurred the stars I saw. “You’d be the fucking first in my whole fucking miserable goddamn life.” Sighing, I held my hand up to stop him from mouthing whatever platitude was about to come out of his mouth. “Do you know who I am?”

“Trey Malachek,” he said after a moment. Then he said, “I know you’re an incredible hockey player and an amazing skater?—”

“Yes. I am also the grandson of Victor Petrov and Donald Malachek. And the son of Donnie Malachek and Oksana Petrova. My old man and grandfathers were NHL superstars. My mother has more World Championship and Olympic medals than all three of them combined. I’m the only descendant of four legendary champions.”

“Okay, so that explains why they called you the Prince of Hockey last night. Although that’s dismissive of your mom, to be honest,” he responded.