Page 69 of These Wicked Hearts

Rome sighs, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’m sorry about Grey. I didn’t mean for everything to go like that. I know you don’t believe me, but I hate it happened that way. Despite what you may believe, I don’t go around hoping to end careers.”

“I mean, you did hit him, though.”

“I’m a defenseman, Atlas. That’s my job.”

“Yeah, well, you take it to an extreme. Don’t you?”

“I don’t set out to permanently injure anyone.”

I study him, trying to decide if I believe him.

“You have a reputation, though. Don’t really correct anyone either.”

He laughs sharply, shaking his head. “Yes, I do, but the thing about reputations is they fester. It only takes one little rumor, one person to whisper something about me or anyone into the wind before it grows and mutates into a shadowed monster of its original idea.”

“Wha—”

“People see what they want. They hear what they want. Their ideas and thoughts are formed off the opinions of others. Somewhere in all of that is the truth.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you’re not really an asshole.”

A smile twists the corners of his lips. “Oh, make no mistake, Atlas. I am indeed an asshole.”

I can’t deal with this. I don’t even know why I came here. Rome is a little twisted.

“So, is Coach always this much of a dick, or is he just pissed about losing the Cup last season?”

“He’s a dick. All the time,” Rome says flatly. “More so since then, though.”

“I get it, but like, he’s intense. In a bad way.” Coaches like Grady don’t build teams, they break them down. I want to hate Rome, but it’s what I see that holds me back from fully hating him. Rome looks broken, vacant behind his eyes. Every time I bring Coach up it’s like I’m physically striking him.

Coaches like Grady treat players like pawns. No trust, chemistry, or reason. Just win or else. There’s no pride in that. That’s not what the Otters had. What we had was family. We won, lost, and fought like family.

And now, sitting here, I realize how much I miss it. A deep ache settles in my gut, burrowing somewhere and making me sick. Maybe one drink wouldn’t be so bad. Rome could stop me from having more than one, right? I think if I just ask him, just one, it’ll be fine.

My phone buzzes, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry,” I mutter, checking the screen.

Gage: Sorry about this morning, I didn’t mean to upset you. Hope you had a good flight, hockey boy

A stupid smile spreads on my face before I can stop it.

Do you miss me?????

Gage: no

liar liar I’d strip your pants off in a fire

Gage: *Gage has blocked Atlas*

*Gage has not blocked Atlas because Gage likes his ass too much*

Gage: You’re full of yourself

I’d much rather be full of you

Gage: I’m ignoring you now. Have fun with your little game. Don’t get hurt.