Because we were never friends. We were toxic. We were poison. We were deadly.
Fucking asshole.
I want to rip him a new one. I want to slap him so hard his teeth clatter. I want to kick him in the balls and make him fall to his knees. I want to hurt him the same way he hurt me. I want to show him I’m not the same girl he once knew. And I won’t cower. I won’t let him push me around. Not anymore.
But I can’t.
Because there are cameras everywhere. And since Shorty’s loitering around the opposing team’s bench area, they’re poised and ready for any drama that might occur, and dammit to hell, it’s feeling particularly precarious right now.
“Come on, Boss.” I press against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. He simply keeps holding Shorty’s gaze from a few feet away.
“Friend.” Henry says the word like he’s a damn robot, and his expression is just as lifeless. Just as monotone.
“Yeah,” Shorty repeats. “Friend.” He pauses, and the warning bells in my head start clanging.
Go away, Shorty, I silently plead. Please go away.
“Who I used to fuck,” Shorty finishes. I know he’s smiling. I know he’s goading Henry. I know he’s trying to piss him off and cause a scene for all the cameras to capture. Because Shorty’s known for having a short fuse. Hell, it’s expected. He’s a hockey player. But the owner of a team? He’s supposed to have better control.
My eyes close as Shorty’s comment hangs in the air. A moment later, I force them open to find Henry as unreadable as before. Maybe even more so. He looks like a freaking statue.
“Henry,” I whisper. Hell, it’s not even a whisper. It’s a breath. A plea.
He bends down, closing the distance between us, but he doesn’t look at me. No, he’s too busy staring at my ex behind me as his hands find my waist, and he tugs me into him.
“Henry, wai––”
His mouth is on mine, swallowing my plea. And the kiss? It’s predatory. Dominating. And wreaks of alpha pheromones so potent, my core clenches, and I grasp onto his suit to keep from crumbling.
I haven’t kissed him since we went shopping for furniture. I’ve barely spoken to him. I’ve been avoiding him at all costs because it felt easier. Instead of admitting I’m falling for him and, therefore, need to end our arrangement, I’ve kept my distance, praying for some freaking clarity. I almost wavered. Almost gave in and admitted I want to give a real relationship with Henry a shot. And I might’ve if the impending doom of facing Shorty this week hadn’t paralyzed me. When I saw him on the ice tonight, the memories of what it’s like to be in a relationship came flooding back, hitting like a Mack truck.
Realizing I’ve been holding my breath, I press my hands to Henry’s chest and tear my mouth from his, sucking in oxygen as my mind continues to spin.
What the fuck?
Did he really kiss me?
In front of everyone?
Shorty? The cameras?
Shit.
I glance over my shoulder, attempting to count witnesses, but only the back of Shorty’s jersey comes into view as he skates away. It taunts me, mingling with the flashing cameras. The combination makes my pupils burn.
Cameras.
The kiss.
They had to have captured it.
Facing Henry again, I seethe, “What the hell was that?”
A soft scoff escapes him, but he doesn’t let me go. “That was me staking a claim long past due.”
“I didn’t need you to stake a claim,” I argue. My hands are fisted at my sides, and it takes everything inside of me to keep from shoving at his chest. To keep from yelling and screaming in his face. “We had a rule, Henry,” I continue, keeping my voice quiet. “We had a rule, and you blatantly broke it in front of who knows how many people.”
“Fuck the rules.” He lets go of my waist and reaches for my arm, but I tug it from his grasp.
“We are at work,” I remind him. “Kissing me here was the last thing you should’ve done, especially after this week.”
“What happened this week?” he growls as the rest of the team ambles back to the rink. Both of us shift to the side, leaving room for the players to slip past us while searching for a bit of privacy, though it’s not like we’re going to find any. Not right now. Not here. Henry watches the team over the top of my head, the same indifferent persona taking over his expression as he nods at someone behind me.
I’m gonna freaking kill him.
“I need to work,” I mutter.
His hand encases my wrist, and he keeps me in place, bending down and whispering against the shell of my ear. “I’m finished being patient. We will continue this discussion after the game.”
“No,” I breathe out. “We won’t.”
“Yes, we will. No more running, Mia.”
“Whatever you say, Professor.” I yank my wrist out of his grasp and march toward the benches with my camera poised.
43
HENRY
The Tumblers lost. Shorty played for shit, and our offense took full advantage, scoring four goals to their one. It should have felt good. Winning. Instead, I feel like a storm could break any second as I search the massive room during post-game interviews. I probably shouldn’t have kissed her in public. Not until we had a chance to talk. I couldn’t help myself. My need to claim her. To prove to Shorty and anyone else who was watching she’s mine. There’s nothing he can do about it.
Still. The kiss wasn’t for Mia, and that’s where I fucked up. Now, Mia has disappeared, despite my promise we would discuss this later. The cameras stop flashing a few minutes later, and I find Theo at the edge of the room beside Colt, who’s bouncing a baby in his arms.
“Where is she?” I demand when I’m within hearing distance.
Their heads turn, and they find me stalking toward them. The last of my restraint is barely hanging on by a thread.
“Mia?” Theo clarifies.
I give him a jerky nod.
“She left with the girls. Needed a stiff drink after putting up with Shorty’s dick comments.”
“Before or after the first period?” I growl.
Confusion creases the corners of Colt’s eyes, then he clarifies, “The dick comments?”
“Yeah.”
“They didn’t come until after the first period. Why?”
They were still in the locker room when I kissed Mia in front of Shorty, but even so, I don’t bother to fill them in. I’m too frustrated. Too pissed off by my lack of restraint and Shorty’s bullshit ribbing. But I can’t find it in myself to regret the decision. Shorty needed to understand Mia is mine. I don’t care if she’s delusional enough to believe I only care about the sex between us. I’m done being patient. After her cold shoulder this week, I’ve made myself clear. I’m not letting her go. Now, he knows it too.
And so does Mia.
Which is probably why she left in search of a stiff drink.
But if she honestly believes I will let her off the hook this easily, she is sorely mistaken.
“Good game tonight,” I compliment them as I pull my phone out and dial Gordy.
“Hello, sir,” he greets me.