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“What the hell’s wrong with you?” I shout, fury boiling up inside me. “Save it for the other team, fucknut.”
“Think you can swoop in on my girl?” Dylan shouts at me, spewing venom with his glare.
Fucking pudding-brain.
Teammates are skating past me, and this is the last thing I should be focusing on. “She wasn’t with me, idiot. I came home and found her standing outside my apartment building.”
“Sure she was,” Dylan barks at me. “Pretty fucking convenient, of all the places she could be in Manhattan, she was there.” His shoulders hunch up and he’s got that look on his face like he’s about to try to throw down, right here, in front of the crowd. That’ll really help our reputation.
Beckett moves in between the two of us. “Back the hell off and take it up with Lexi,” he shouts. “Who, by the way, was with Mason for six years, so you dating her is seriously fucked up. You don’t have jack shit to say to him about anything. Ever. Got that? Go talk to her. Maybe she’s the problem.”
“Damn straight,” I growl, skating off. What was Lexi up to last night? I never knew her to be a girl who played games, but then again, I never thought Rowan would deliberately wear someone else’s jersey to my game when she knows it messes with my head.
In other words, I don’t know women at all, and I should stick to what I’m good at. Hockey.
I proceed to go apeshit on the Flying Pigs. The game is salvaged, even though the refs aren’t happy with us, and the coach is giving me shit like it’s my fault that Dylan keeps bumping into me.
The only reason I restrain myself from dragging Dylan off the ice and kicking his ass is that we’re in public and I’m still on probation. I can’t afford to screw up, and Dylan knows that. That pisses me off even more.
After the game, I lose track of Rowan and Cece. I’m dodging people to try to spot her, but it’s no use. The crowd is thick, and people just keep getting in the way. I’m about to give up when the sea of Rover fans parts, and I catch sight of them headed towards the back. They’re likely headed to the area where everyone’s going to change, sign some autographs, and mingle.
I call out to Rowan to get her attention. I’d think she didn’t hear me, but it’s pretty obvious that she’s simply ignoring me when she picks up the pace, walking faster. She’s moving away from me so quickly, that Cecelia starts trotting to catch up with her.
“Rowan,” I yell, trying again.
Getting no reply, I hurry over to them.
“Cecelia. Excuse me a minute, I need to speak to my publicist.” Players are streaming past us, shouting out cheers of victory. I ignore them.
Cece’s gaze snaps in my direction, and the look in her eyes tells me she might be onto us.
Shit.
The last thing I want to do is make trouble for Rowan. I won’t let them fire her or make me work with Amoeba, especially after what that bitch pulled trying. To sabotage an event for kids with leukemia is next level evil.
I’ve still got some pull. I’ve been handing over win after win this season. They need me, and that’s a fact I will use to my advantage. I won’t let them do anything to hurt Rowan’s career. I hope she knows that.
Although, from her murderous gaze, I’m not so sure she’d believe that in this moment.
Her voice drips with frost. “We’ll see each other in the morning when we get together to discuss Lexi-gate, which, by the way, was not helped in any way by you and Dylan fighting over her on the ice.”
For fuck’s sake. Here we go.
“We weren’t fighting over her.” I sigh, already tired from this topic of conversation. I want to say he started it, but that’s not going to help anything.
Rowan ignores me. “Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”
I put my hand on her arm and tug her away from Cecelia. I know how it looks, but I also don’t give a damn. I need to figure out a way to make this right. To prove to her that it isn’t what it seems. I move her down a side hall, away from prying eyes.
“You can’t actually be mad about Lexi. A bunch of paparazzi and gossip rags were spewing bullshit about us, and you actually believe them? You of all people should know how they twist things.” Now I’m pissed too. The more I think about it, the more it’s clear that she has absolutely no faith in me.
Rowan snorts in contempt. “How did you feel about me wearing a Snyder jersey tonight?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I know exactly what she’s getting at, that I get jealous too, but she’s moving too close to uncomfortable truths.
“Quit trying to play head games with me, Mason.” I’m moving towards her, but she’s backing away.
“Quit running from me.” I glare at her. “You’re acting like a jealous girlfriend,” I blurt the words out, and she turns and stomps off, throwing open the first door she sees.
