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What if instead of seeing Greg Baxter as the guy who is always standing in my way—what if we could see the common ground?
“What if I am?” I let out a rusty laugh at the horrified look on his face and scrub a hand over my jaw. “Don’t get your jock in a twist, I’m not talking about moving in on Rux’s turf. All I’m saying is, I’m not fifteen years old anymore. We’re on the same team and maybe if we stopped to look, I’m betting—”
“Jesus Christ, this is still about Natalie, isn’t it?” He shoves to his feet and, yeah, I’m watching for any sign moving that fast rocked him, but the guy looks steady. Steady and pissed. “Vassar, you don’t actually think that getting me behind you will give you a better shot, do you? You’releaving.”
Even as he says it, I’m running the possible plays in my head.
He gapes, going two shades paler in a blink. “Did you fuck up with Oregon?”
“What? No.” If anything, Oregon wants me more than ever.
Baxter swallows, his eyes narrowing into the hard scowl we’ve been exchanging since high school. He stalks closer, pointing at my chest. “Well, don’t. And whatever shit you’ve got spinning in that head about my sister, knock it off. Nat’s doing fine. Better than, so do me a favor—screw that, doyourselfa favor and forget about her.”
I’m off the bench, hands flying out to the sides. “You think I haven’t tried? I know she thinks it won’t work with us…”
“It won’t.” He shrugs, stepping back, but I’m not done. I don’t even care if he’s listening.
“And that I can’t give her what she needs…”
He drops his head back. “Dude,you can’t.”
“But I’m starting to think she’s wrong. I’m starting to think she’s—”
“She’s… she’s with another guy.”
The words knock me back a step, hitting harder than any punch this guy has ever thrown. I try to shake it off, but I feel like I’m the one laid out on the ice, unable to coordinate my limbs to get up. And this time it’s Greg fucking Baxter looking down at me with—hell, is thatpityin his eyes?
“Bullshit.” I can barely get the word past my teeth. The last time I was alone with her we almost kissed. And yeah, that was two and a half weeks ago, and she was emotional, scared. But…fuuuck.
“It’s not.”
“Is it serious?” I choke out, hating that I’m talking to her brother about this more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life.
We were serious. Too serious for what she wanted.
Not serious enough to make it work anyway.
“It’s… a recent thing. She wanted to move on. There were a few guys. Successful, local. Not hockey players. She hit it off with one. But… uhh… yeah, it could be serious. They have a lot in common. I know she’s seeing him tonight. And hell, I like him.”
Baxter’s met him already? That burns, but why not. This guy isn’t some dirty secret she’s trying to keep from everyone, hoping they run their course before people find out.
I fall back onto the bench behind me.
Baxter’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Look, man, I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But—you don’t know what it was like for her growing up. My parents—I don’t think they see what they did to her. How they treated her. And I was so caught up in my own shit, I didn’t realize until it was too late. But Natalienevercame first. It was like what happened in her life didn’t matter. They didn’t go to her games. They didn’t take her to the tournaments. They didn’t answer the phone when the coaches were calling to tell them she was in the hospital. All they could see was me. My game, my future. It was bullshit, and I’ll regret not doing enough to change it when it mattered for the rest of my life. But right now, I can do something for her.”
I look up at the guy who’s been my biggest rival since I was fifteen years old, not caring that he can see how wrecked I am. “What?”
“I can tell you to leave her alone. Finish out the season and when Oregon offers you that fat contract, take it and go. Give Natalie the chance to have the life she deserves.”
Chapter 22
Natalie
“Greg, you sound weird. Did you hit your head again? Does it hurt? Was it too much today? I told you to play it safe and give it another day, no matter what the doctors said. What was one more day?”
“Chill! Jesus, Nat, my head is fine. Relax, okay?” he snaps through the line as I resume running my pitiful little basket of frozen dinners for one through the self-checkout.
“Well, good. Don’t scare me like that.” One of the protein bowls won’t scan so I try to get the attention of the lone clerk a few aisles down. “So what’s going on then?”
