Page 31 of Puck Off, She’s Mine

For a moment, I think he's going to tell me no. The frustration stamped across his face says pretty dang clearly that he wants to go another round or two with Corey. He's still pissed at him for what happened the other day, and he's not ready to let it go. But he just jerks his chin in a nod, his jaw clenched tight.

Corey watches while Phoenix removes his skates and then grabs mine before lacing our fingers together. The silence is so damn loud, it's deafening. Clearly, whatever war started between them the other day isn't over. If anything, I think it might be worse.

I don't even really understand why. Corey knows I don't want him. He doesn't even really want me. And Phoenix knows it, too. So why can't they just bury the freaking hatchet already?

When Phoenix body checks him as we pass by, I'm not sure that'll ever happen, but I don't say anything until we're alone in the locker room.

"You two are going to have to make up eventually, Phoenix," I say softly.

He just grunts, tugging his jersey off over his head.

"I'm serious. You two being at each other's throats can't be good for morale."

"Neither is me riding the bench for the next two games."

"You think that's his fault?"

He just shrugs in response.

I stare at him for a moment before sighing. "You're the one who attacked him," I remind him. "You aren't blameless here."

"I'm not the one who let him touch me."

"Let him…" I blink, my stomach twisting. My heart clenches at the same time. Is that really what he thinks? "You think I asked him to be an ass and try to get a rise out of you? Or, what? That I encouraged him?"

Phoenix clenches his jaw, refusing to answer. And that's all the answer I need. God, I'm such an idiot! I let him convince me this could be something real, but it's not. This is just him trying to win. It's a fucking competition to him.

I shove my feet into my shoes, my heart pounding. "I guess we're done here," I say, grabbing my coat from the hook. "Good luck with… everything."

I stomp toward the door, praying I make it to the safety of my car before I cry. I'm not sure if I'm hurt, angry, or shocked. But…damn. It hurts like hell to realize that I let myself fall for someone who thinks the worst of me.

"Fuck," Phoenix growls from behind me. "Cara, stop."

"Go to hell."

He growls again, and then he's in front of me, his giant body blocking the door.

"Move, Phoenix."

"No."

"Move."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

I just glare at him.

"I'm a jealous bastard," he says, his eyes locked on my face. Guilt and something darker churn through his beautiful eyes, but I'm not in any mood to try to read it. "I thought once you were mine, it'd be easier to deal with. But it's so much fucking worse because now, I know exactly what I could lose, and that's fucking me up." He shoves a shaking hand through his hair. "I spent my entire life focused on getting drafted. And then on being good enough. On not fucking up what I have. Now, I'm crawling out of my skin because it isn't enough."

"Phoenix—"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault that Corey is an ass or that I'm rabid with jealousy. But I've never felt this way before, and I'm losing my mind a little bit," he says. "Every fucking time I see him, I remember that there are twenty other men on this team capable of giving you the exact same things I can. I'm nothing special, Cara. But you? Christ, there is no one else like you."

"That's not true, Phoenix."

"It is, but that's my shit to deal with, not yours." He sighs heavily. "I'm trying. I swear, I'm trying. I'm just…an asshole. And it doesn't help that I'm benched."

"You did that to yourself," I remind him.