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We get done lacing our skates up just as Coach strolls in, looking around the room.
“We’ve only got a little over a week until opening game, boys. And our first game, as you know, is against South Carolina, and from what I’ve heard, they are stacked. We’re looking better all the time, but we’ve still got a few kinks to work out, both offensively and defensively. So, for the next week, we’re going hard. You hear me?”
When we all say yes, he nods, leaning against a set of lockers.
“Good. Now, those of you participating in the One Wish fundraiser, thanks for not being crybabies about it. I know it’s not ideal to be a fucking ballerina during the season, but as stated before, it’s for a good cause.” He smiles—well, as much of a smile as he’s capable of.
“Like I said before, this is our very own Brody O’Brien’s fundraiser. One he started himself, which he holds very near and dear to his heart. O’Brien is not only an incredible athlete, but also one of the best men I’ve ever coached on and off the ice. So, when this opportunity came up, we couldn’t say no. And I know I’m hard on you all, but I do appreciate you doing this.”
Standing up straight, he hits his hand lightly on a metal locker. “All right, let’s get to work!”
“Yes, sir!” we chant, following him out of the locker room.
“Hey, Thompson,” Cade says from behind me. “How long is your sister going to be staying anyway?”
“Why?” I grunt. “And like I said before, don’t fuck with her. Matter of fact, don’t even look at her. She’s been through enough the past few years. She doesn’t need Hurricane Cade ripping through her life.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. First off, I consider myself more of a tsunami really,” he drawls, and even without looking at him, I can hear the smirk in his voice. “Second, I was simply asking—that’s all.” As we skate onto the ice, he hits my arm. “Damn, Thompson. Look at you, always thinking the worst of me.”
“No, I don’t. But she’s my sister, and as much as I love you, man, I don’t love you for my sister. So, do us both a favor and stay away from her.”
“I’ll think about it.” He grins before skating away.
“Nope. More like you will fucking do it!” I yell after him, grinding my back teeth together. “I’m serious, Cade. Fuck around and find out!”
The thing about Cade Huff, as good of a guy as he is, he’s got some serious issues. He’s also a bit of a womanizer. And while I usually turn a blind eye, I can’t do that when it comes toHaley. Especially since I know that she’s not in the best headspace right now.
Speaking of Haley…if Sutton agrees to be my fake girlfriend, I’ll have to explain it to my sister.Perfect.
Sutton
The pole is cool against my flesh as I wrap my limbs around it, tipping my head back seductively. The music moves at a slow tempo. In ballet, I always feel self-conscious on the stage. My mother’s eyes were somewhere in the stands as she judged my every move. So were hundreds of others. But when I’m dancing at Peaches, I don’t feel that same gut-wrenching feeling. Maybe it’s the mask, allowing me to just dance, feeling a sense of weightlessness. Because at the end of the day, this doesn’t really matter. It’s just a paycheck and not my future.
Or maybe it’s because the audience isn’t picky. All I have to do is literally shake my ass, and they are happy. Either way, sometimes, I feel like I’m a rock star, headlining a show. Other times, not so much. But one thing I don’t feel is desired. In fact, I feel a little yucky at times. Which is why I’ve made it a point to avoid looking directly at the audience. When you see balding, middle-aged men watching you, knowing they’re likely sporting a boner, it’s demoralizing. It also makes my stomach churn.
But Ryann wasn’t lying; it’s good money. And that’s something I need right now for the first time in my life since I have no safety net.
My lungs begin to burn, and I know I need a hit from my inhaler. The smoky atmosphere in here isn’t good for my condition, but so far, I’ve been able to make it work.
The tightness in my chest gets worse, and I try to hide my wheezing, though I know the music is covering it for me. And when I get my signal from my boss that it’s time for my break, I waste no time rushing down the stairs and back to my purse.
Grabbing my inhaler, I take a puff and then another, pulling the medicine into my lungs. I collapse into a plush chair, throwing my head back and shutting my eyes. My mind instantly traveling to my new dance partner.
Hunter.
I texted with him earlier, and we are supposed to meet for practice tomorrow morning. Our messages were brief—and he never mentioned the deal he’d tried to make with me. But I’m sure it’ll come up when we see each other.
It would be pretty sweet to send a bigfuck youto my parents by hanging out with the enemy. Not just because of all they’ve done to me, but also because I truly believe that when they had their falling-out with the Thompsons, it was my family’s fault.
But there’s something else I want—something deeper that I don’t have the money or resources for. The past few weeks, it’s hit me how little I know about my own mother. I have no idea where she grew up, and I know nothing about her family. It genuinely seems like she got dropped off at my father’s doorstep and they started a family.
I want to hire a private investigator to find out more about her. Because I have this feeling in my gut that she’s hiding something, and I just need to know what it is. I know having the information—whatever it might be—won’t change anything. But there’s a hunger in me that wants to know anyway.
Hunter could help me with that. He has the funds. Revenge on my parents isn’t enough to make me pretend to be his girlfriend. Because not only do I feel like it’s degrading, but I also don’t want Paige to look at me like I’m a snake. Then again, she’s sort of choosing her own fate, I suppose.
I guess it’s true what my father has always said. Everyone has a price. And Hunter Thompson is about to know mine.
11
