Page 45 of Hat Trick (Icecats)


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I push on his chest, breathless, but he doesn’t move. “Dart, I can’t do this,” I tell him, unable to breathe but forcing the words out. “I’m seeing someone.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, his eyes narrow to slits. Heat creeps up his neck, but he doesn’t let me go. If anything, his grip on me tightens. I try to push him away, but he doesn’t move as his eyes search mine.

“Please, D’Artagnan. Let me go.”

“No.”

“You have to.”

“I don’t want to,” he tells me, his eyes searching mine. “Because if I do, the statement you just made will be real, and I don’t want to believe that you’ve allowed someone into your life when that’s where I belong.”

Oh, come on. What am I supposed to say to that! I’m lost in everything that is him, his words, the feel of him. I sure as hell don’t want him to let me go, but I am not a cheater. “Please, Dart,” I beg, my voice breaking as I gaze up at him. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll become something I’m not.” His eyes soften, and I swear the world around me stops. But he lets me go. “I’m not a cheater.”

He takes a step back, and instantly, I feel bare. I wrap my arms around myself to replace his arms as I press my head into the back of the door. I squeeze my eyes shut while I try to find my bearings. Though, I don’t know where they are. I never do when he is around. I feel his gaze on me, and I can hear our labored breaths over my heart beating loudly in my ears.

“Tennessee,” he whispers. Only my name. I feel the tears slide down the sides of my face. “Why? Just tell me why.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.” The words sound so cowardly as our gazes meet. The guilt is overwhelming. His eyes, damn it, they’re killing me. Unable to handle it, I turn, opening the door with a shaking hand and walking right out of it.

And right into Troy.

Troy’s hands steady me, his laughter easy, and I can’t look at him.

All I can think is, really, God?

Are you even trying to help me out?

Nope. Because even He knows that fate has a twisted sense of humor.

Chapter Fifteen

Dart

My heart feels like it’s been used in place of a puck for a face-off.

I’m seeing someone.

She fucking said that to me. Like this guy has meaning to her. Even with my hands all over her, my lips drinking from hers, she said that. But the words didn’t reach her eyes. Those eyes were on me, drunk with the desire that flows between us. Still, she said it. She meant it. She pushed me away. This can’t be real; this kind of thing doesn’t happen to me.

I break hearts, not the other way around.

I’m not a cheater.

No, she’s not. She is a fucking angel without wings, and damn it, she’s mine. She has been mine since the moment I set eyes on her. I know why I didn’t take anyone home from that wedding. It was her. I was so caught up in her that it was even hard to focus on Angie. If I’m honest, I would have gone down to that bar when I got back from the wedding, looking for Tennessee, but I didn’t have to. But here I am, fate having brought her back to me, only to be told she’s fucking seeing someone?

Anger rattles inside me as I look to where she just took off out of this room. My hands are shaking—hell, my whole body is shaking. Not only with anger but hurt. And also, if I’m honest, utter want for her. The rational side of my brain is telling me I knew this could be a possibility. She’s too fucking beautiful, too funny, too smart, not to tempt another, but the irrational part that wants Tennessee more than I want anything in this world is saying fuck that rational side.

She’s fucking mine, and only mine.

I have to stop her.

I have to tell her that.

I go to the door, but I pause when I hear a male voice. “Tennessee! Baby,” he laughs, a comfortable laugh, and everything turns to rage.

She isn’t his baby. She’s my baby doll.

“You almost took me out. Are you okay?”

“Troy, what are you doing here?” I hear her say, her voice as jittery as I feel.

“I came down for the weekend since CapitalCare is throwing a meet-and-greet with the teams tomorrow night.” Silence stretches between them. “What is wrong? You okay? Did you hit your mouth? Your lip is puffy.”

You’re fucking right it is, I think. And I know I shouldn’t, but I come out of the room. Yep, I was right. I shouldn’t have come out, because instantly, I’m stopped dead in my tracks when I see them. The fucker holds her, his thumb moving along her bottom lip as he gazes down at her, concern in his gaze. In any other world, any other reality, I’d say they’re cute together. He’s got orangish hair, Tennessee’s favorite color, but I won’t allow that to deter me.

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