Page 102 of Forbidden Forward

“Stop!” I shout in frustration. “Would you stop trying to protect me, for God’s sake? All you’re doing is complicating my life.”

My brother’s mouth drops, and hurt flashes in his eyes. I backtrack. “Look, Donny. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do. I wouldn’t be here without your help and generosity. I also appreciate your overblown sense of protection, but let me solve my own problems.”

“So you don’t want—”

“I don’t want you confronting Colby. I don’t want you saying anything about this to him. Please respect that I want to take care of this myself. I’m a grown woman.”

But damn if I don’t feel like a lost little girl right now.

Chapter 45

Season's End

Colby

It’s over.

I stand beside Harper in the locker room, my movements deliberate as I empty my stall, shutting out thoughts that this could be the last time. Across the room, Nick and some of my other teammates are quiet as they go through the same motions. Will I still be able to refer to them as my teammates next week? Next month? Next season?

Blue grabs a bench and stations it in the middle of the plush room, then steps up on it. “Your attention, please.” He sounds like a barker at a fair, only the atmosphere is anything but festive. “Boys, we had a good run. We missed it by a game, but remember back to where we were at the All-Star break. No one gave us a chance to even break five hundred. Not a single fucking commentator, talking head, or our own media. But we showed them, didn’t we?”

A few heads nod, and voices mutter in agreement.

“We’re gonna build on that. We’re coming back next season, and we’re picking up where we left off. We’re gonna take this division by storm, and we’re gonna shove the doubters’ words down their goddamn throats.”

As his voice rises, so does the volume in the room. Eyes begin to gleam with determination. I look around me, and I feel a pang so deep it could be a knife twisting in my gut. My entire being aches to be part of this. To come back and build this team up to something no one expects.

Blue holds up his phone. “Best news of all, our main man Dylan came through surgery today with flying colors, and he’ll be back next season in our run for the Cup.”

Now the locker room roars, me included, and the noise is deafening. We all got the update before game time, but hearing Blue yell it out makes it more real somehow. The guy who kneed him only got five games, the maximum allowed without an in-person hearing. He’s already served three of those games and will sit out the first two next season.

Beside me, Harper faces the captain and squares his shoulders. He claps, and Blue continues, his voice growing more strident. “We had a hella good time these last few months, didn’t we?” Guys cheer, and Blue rolls his forearm in a let’s-get-it-going gesture. “Let’s have ourselves one hell of a summer, but let’s not let go of what it feels like to win. We’ve had a taste, and we fucking want more. Let’s come back in October ready to have even more fun and show these fuckers how it’s done.”

The entire room erupts. I glance around, unable to muster the same level of enthusiasm because my time’s up and I don’t belong here.

“Awright,” Blue barks above the noise. “You’re invited to my house to celebrate the end of the season. We’ll put her to bed in style. Open bar, open all night, open season on anyone who refuses to leave the dark side. You feel me?” He beats his fist against his chest. I love this guy, and I’m gonna miss him.

A chorus of everything from “We feel ya” to “Fuck yeah!” to “Yeah, Cap!” reverberates in the room as guys beat their own chests. The din that follows reaches an ear-splitting decibel level.

Harper startles me when he grabs my shoulder and points a finger at me. “You better be there.” I nearly blurt out every question about Jackie that’s been on my mind since I last talked to her, but he releases me and heads into the fray with slaps of encouragement and threats to break heads if anyone skips Cap’s party. Dude’s taking his alternate captain role seriously.

Losing sucks almost as much as missing the playoffs. All I want right now is to go home with my tail tucked between my legs and wallow. If it wasn’t so late, I’d run to the Gail. But I’m not given a choice. Guess I’m stuck going to Blue’s house for a celebration I don’t feel.

Will Jackie be there? Do I want her there? I have no fucking clue what I want anymore.

Two hours later, it’s crystal clear what I want as I stare at Jackie across the great room in Blue’s mansion. I want, but I can’t have.

I lean against the wall, warm beer in hand, trying to distract myself with my teammates’ antics, but it doesn’t work because my gaze disobeys and constantly strays to pale green eyes and wavy golden hair I can still feel sifting through my fingers in my dreams. She mostly ignores me, but when I do catch her looking, it’s with narrowed eyes and a mix of hurt and anger. She can’t stand me. Normally, I love it when a plan comes together, and this one was nearly perfect, so why do I absolutely hate it?

I’m an idiot. But fuck if I know what to do about it.

Jackie excuses herself from a cluster of WAGs and heads toward the hallway that leads to the guest bath and Blue’s office. Two weeks ago, I had my mouth and hands all over that woman while the music of her breathy moans played around me. I was in love with her. I’m still in love with her. That hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s grown more intense, and it debilitates me. It cuts deep, and I bleed inside.

Fuck it.

Leaving my warm beer, my good sense, and my pride behind, I stalk down the hallway. Like before, the office door is open and the space is empty. I stare at the desk longingly when the bathroom door opens, and Jackie appears, framed in the doorway by the golden light that spills over her hair and outlines her curves. My hands slide into my pockets so I can’t reach for her, though my body pulls me toward her.

She lets out a little gasp of surprise that reminds me of the sexy noises she makes when things heat up between us. My gaze sweeps her fine form without my permission, taking in a pale green sweater that accentuates her perfect lines, tight jeans that mold to her strong legs, and high heels that should be illegal. She looks good enough to eat. Shit. Is she seeing someone?