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Why did he have to lie to me? I would have been fine with a casual fling. Why did he have to make it feel like more, like I mattered to him? He was the one who kept going on and on about how he wasn’t seeing anyone else.
Maybe his mother has ruined his ability to have healthy romantic relationships, but do I have to be collateral damage?
“Welp. Lots to do, gotta go.”
“Everything okay?” Now he’s sounding concerned.
“Never better. Is there a reason you’re calling?”
“Yeah, I wanted to know if you were going to be at the game tonight.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say icily. Eff my life, I did tell Cecelia I’d go with her.
“Excellent. You seem to bring me all the luck.”
I hang up, and immediately call the local sports apparel store. “Do you happen to have a Snyder jersey? You do? Excellent.” I hang up, chuckling darkly.
* * *
Cecelia is alreadyat her seat when I hurry in, just as the game is about to start. She waves at me, and I make my way through the crowd, my stomach sour with anger.
Cecelia is wearing designer jeans, high-heeled boots, and a Logan Long jersey.
“Logan Long?” I ask her as I sit down.
Cecelia sighs. “I like to spread the love. Can’t have people thinking I play favorites. Tonight, Long gets the love.”
“Good choice. Go Long.” I pump my fist in a cheer, pasting a big smile on my face.
The crowd roars for the start of the game, and we’re silent for a couple of minutes, watching intently.
Cecelia glances at me and her brows raise. “Where’s your Raker jersey?”
She raises her voice to be heard.
“In the trash.”
“What was that?” she calls out.
“In my sister’s trunk. I forgot it. I had to wear Snyder. I think Mason’s ego will survive.” I grin savagely.
Mason’s having a great start, which is good, of course. So good. Just freaking awesome. An opponent side-checks him, and the next thing I know they’re whaling on each other on the ice, and the crowd is screaming.
“Brutes are such a turn-on, don’t you think?” elegant, uptown Cecelia asks me.
I laugh, shaking my head. Cece never ceases to amaze me.
“If that’s your thing.” The crowd is getting loud again.
“It’s every woman’s thing,” she shouts. She starts cheering again, joining the crowd, shouting her throat raw. I don’t join her. Mason’s not worth losing my voice over.
I glance back at the ice and see that Mason’s glaring at me.
Must be the jersey.
Well, better get used to it, I think huffily.
“That’ll teach you, lying, cheating, useless son of a skunk ...”
