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He shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he moves closer to me. “I own you, Julian. You’re mine. My property. You either do what I want, or you’ll pay.”
He sounds like Abby Gale, so cold and distant and with no human emotion. They’re both cyborgs. Briana is smart and beautiful. She’s kind and compassionate, even though nothing in her life has ever been easy. How can so much love come from someone who’s been shown so little? My father has everything, and because of him, so do I. But he’s the worst person I know. His money has changed him. It’s become his biggest asset but also his greatest weakness. He’s so afraid of losing his power that he can’t stand to see me happy. No matter what he says, I won’t let him control me.
“I don’t need your money,” I spit back, and then walk into the locker room.
He yells something I mentally block out, leaving him in the empty hallway.
Chapter Twenty-One
Briana
Julian looks deflated when he skates off the ice. Unlike the last time I watched him play, he seemed off for some reason. Even when he raises his hand to wave on his way into the locker room, he looks bummed out. I feel bad for him. Knowing how much this game means to him and his team, I keep my fingers cr
ossed that they win.
They’re down by a few points, and according to Bex Bryant, ‘Sucking major ass’. I like her. She’s unrefined, kind of like me. Bex yelled in my ear the entire first two periods of the game, screaming about plays and who knows what. Most of what she said was like Greek to me.
After Julian’s team exits the rink, Bex taps me on the arm. “Do you want to get something to eat before the final period starts?”
“I’m starving,” Jemma says, patting her pregnant belly. “Can you get me a hot dog… and a pretzel? Oh, and a bottle of water.” The pretty redhead with a growing baby belly reaches into her purse and hands me a twenty-dollar bill.
“Yeah, sure,” I say. “What do you want on your hotdog?”
“Mustard, ketchup, and relish.” Jemma licks her lips. “I swear these babies need to eat every hour. By the time I give birth, Trent will have to roll me to the hospital.”
Bex laughs. “That’s because you have Trent’s babies in your belly. I can’t imagine what it will be like to push them out of you. You’re so tiny.”
Jemma groans. “Don’t remind me. I swear my body isn’t built for twins. They’re growing so fast.”
“Do you know the sexes yet?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not yet. I’m hoping for one girl and one boy.”
Jemma said she wasn’t even looking for a boyfriend before she met Trent let alone a family. But she’s embracing her new situation, and so is Trent. He’s huge, built like a brick house and about as tall as Julian. Well, I think Julian might be taller. But still, looking at Trent and how fast Jemma’s stomach is growing, she must be carrying some big babies.
I climb the stairs with Bex and follow her as we navigate the crowded hallway toward the concession stands. Bex seems like she knows this place well. She’s the daughter of a hockey coach, so I guess that comes with the territory.
“They better take their heads out of their asses,” Bex groans. “At the rate they’re playing, they won’t make it to the next round.”
“I don’t know much about hockey, but Julian didn’t look like he was playing the same as last time.”
Bex shakes her head. “Nope, none of them are. My dad looked crushed.” She blows out a deep breath and sighs. “I want this win for him. It’s his first year as the head coach.”
“This game is a big deal, is it not?”
“Oh, yeah. Regionals are a big deal. Only sixteen teams make it to the postseason. But they need to keep going. All of the guys want this win. And I know it will help my dad keep his job. We’re not like most of the people at Strick U.”
“Neither am I,” I confess.
She nods. “Yeah, you get it. We have to work extra hard to keep our positions at a school like Strick U. The same goes for my dad. After all of the attention Preston and his teammates have drawn to the school, a lot of coaches want to jump ship to coach the Senators, and that makes my dad nervous.”
“Well, then they better win this game,” I say with a smile.
We stop in front of the concession stand and glance up at the menu posted on the wall.
“I can’t eat junk food,” Bex says. “It kills my stomach.”
“Do you have a gluten allergy?”
