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“Well? How was your dessert?” I ask.
She sniffs and picks herself up. “I expected it to be a bit dusty, since you spend so much time on the bench. But it wasn’t bad.”
My jaw drops. She smiles sweetly.
This fucking girl.
29
AURORA
Iinspect my tooth in the mirror. There’s a tracker in it, according to Knox, which means he knows exactly where I am right now. If he cares.
While Knox was in the shower, I got dressed and went to Beth’s house. I made up some lie about the pipes being busted in my condo and not having water ’til it’s fixed. Which could be later today, depending on how I’m feeling, or… a few days?
Because that’s easier than telling her about Knox. And that he thinks I slept with his damn brother.
Beth leans on the doorframe. “What are you doing?”
I pull my hand out of my mouth. “Just making sure the dentist didn’t fuck up my tooth.”
I lie.
And lie.
And lie.
“So, are we going out tonight?” She brushes my hair off my shoulder, and her gaze drops to the bite mark on my neck. It seems like whenever one heals, Knox gives me another.
Shit.
“You dog,” she laughs, leaning in to inspect it. “Did you get back with Joel?”
My heart gives a little flutter at his name. A flutter of fucking guilt, really, but whatever. I’ve tried not to think about how I left things with the Titans’ goalie, and it’s been over a month since I’ve even seen him.
Face to face.
Because God knows I can’t stop watching the Titans on the television, no matter where I am. My condo, now Knox’s. Beth’s apartment this afternoon. I texted my dad during them, shit-talking about the players. He takes particular pride in knowing two NHL superstar rookies. Miles and Knox.
He was their original coach.
He even confided in me today that a reporter for a big-time media outlet reached out to get a quote from their former coach. They wanted to know what he thought of the boys playing pro, yadda, yadda…
“They even mentioned you,” he added. “Asked if I would comment on you being married to Knox.”
I was expecting dirt to be dug up on me since we went to the charity gala, but maybe Knox buried it. It’s only been a day. They could be waiting for the next weekend news cycle…
Are they going to write about how I can’t play hockey anymore? How I grew up schooling the Whiteshaw boys on the ice, only to be ripped off of it at sixteen?
“Was it someone else?” Beth squeals, pinching my arm.
I jump back to reality, rubbing the sore spot. “What? No!”
“You’re allowed to have a fling, babe.” She tuts. “It might loosen you up a little.”
“I’m loose,” I grumble.
She makes a face, then straightens. “Oh, by the way. Do you have a second phone?”
