Page 69 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

Oliver is the one who orchestrated me to be grabbed off the sidewalk and shoved in a trunk.

Oliver is the one who wanted to scare me.

Oliver left me alone with this monster.

Before either can stop me, I march forward and grip the top of the clown mask. My skin crawls being this close to him, but I have to fucking know. I rip it off.

Bear.

I should’ve guessed. He seems to have hated me from day one, right? Even when Oliver was appraising and Penn curious…

He looks at me with such loathing, even now, that I have no doubt he would’ve done it. He might’ve apologized for it later—to Oliver, not to me—but he enjoyed the quick moments of torture.

Oliver slides in front of me, blocking my view of Bear. He’s still wearing the bloody, grinning skull mask. Maybe he even thinks the ruse is still going.

“I believe in karma.” My throat burns with every word, but I keep forcing them out. “I believe you’re going to get what’s coming to you, Oliver Ruiz. Your NHL team will see you for who you are. And when your life starts spiraling, I’m going to be there. I’ll fucking delight in your fall.”

He jerks, the words hitting their target.

After a long moment, he removes the mask from his head. His gaze is hot enough to set me on fire. He seems to catalog my neck, face, and lower. Like he can still see me flat on my back with my pants around my ankles and Bear between them.

“Ollie.” Penn stops beside me, his fingers finding my hip. “This is where you fight. This isn’t where you intimidate girls.”

Fight?

I glance from Oliver to Penn and try to resist the urge to lean into Penn’s hand. To sidle even closer and let him comfort me. It’s an insane thought, because we’re not on that level.

We’re on the level of using each other. Nothing more.

“You are all insane,” I breathe. “You, Oliver, for thinking I’d make the same mistake as last year.”

His eyes flash. “Once a snitch, always a snitch.”

I knock Penn’s hand around. “And you? Why did you show up out of the blue?”

Penn goes around Oliver and shoves his other teammate. “Get the fuck out of here, Bear. And if you ever so much as look at Sydney wrong, I’ll fucking cut your balls off.”

The huge man glares at the goalie as he picks himself up. He absently rubs at his throat, and I scowl. He looks like he’s twenty-seven, not college aged. That’s creepier than his mask, and not to mention questionable. He tosses the mask into the car. While he climbs in, Penn opens the garage door for him.

Bear backs it out, and we all wait in silence until he’s turned onto the street and out of view. Penn yanks the garage door back down and slides the bolt to lock it.

He returns to us and meets my gaze. “I showed up here because I saw someone grab you, and no one was fucking returning my calls.”

Oliver scowls.

“And you decided to recruit Bear. He was really bringing down the mood.” I aim for something more lighthearted, although it doesn’t quite hit. Everything hurts, and I’m sure I’m a snotty, tear-soaked mess, but I can fake it with the best of them.

Penn scoffs.

I grab my phone from the floor where Bear threw it and face Oliver. The crack from the taping incident was luckily just to the screen protector, and it was good as new as soon as I replaced it. Not that I need another reminder of Oliver’s cruelty. Indirect or otherwise.

“Did I pass your test?”

His expression is stoic. Like talking to a fucking brick wall. So I’m going to take that as a yes, and he just doesn’t want to admit it.

To Penn, I ask, “You still going to break into my apartment tonight?”

The goalie forces a grin. His brows stay lowered, though. Concerned. “Why would I do that when I have you now?”