Page 59 of Cross Checked
Which was horrifying because athletes were absolutely not my thing. Didn’t matter how charming they were. Didn’t matter how attractive they were. Didn’t matter how safe they felt in quiet moments when they looked at you too softly. I knew athletes. I worked around them constantly. Covered them for campus media. Served them drinks at The Sin Bin. Watched girls cry over them in bathroom stalls while the same guys walked back into bars grinning thirty minutes later like heartbreak was just collateral damage.
Athletes were trained to prioritize themselves.
The sport came first.
Always.
And Cade Mercer was collegiate hockey royalty. Hockey wasn’t just something he played. It lived inside him. In the discipline. The obsession. The way his whole body seemed physically wired for violence and precision.
I knew better than to toy with a crush on Cade Mercer. I would never seriously date an athlete. Especially not one who looked at me the way he had started looking at me lately.
Except now my brain had become deeply annoying. Sometimes—completely against my will—little flashes slipped through anyway. Cade standing in my kitchen while I sat onthe counter talking to him. Cade at Sunday barbecues with my brothers. Cade existing inside my life in ways that felt way too natural way too fast. Dangerous, messy thoughts that got women hurt every time.
And honestly, the worst part was that I had practically invited this entire disaster onto myself because I’d seen the bruises before leaving my apartment tonight.
I knew exactly what sat beneath my skin before I changed clothes, and instead of reaching for one of my oversized sweatshirts like I normally would, I stood in front of my mirror holding the tiny sports bra in my hands while my brain made the dumbest decision imaginable.
Wear it, you idiot.
Some reckless, selfish part of me had wanted Cade looking at me tonight. I had wanted his attention. Thrived off the tension. Wanted to feel attractive under that dark, focused stare he got sometimes when he watched me too long.
Which honestly made me feel pathetic considering the bruise wrapped around my wrist had come from Luke shoving me against his truck three nights earlier outside The Sin Bin.
The memory hit hard enough that my stomach tightened instantly.
Luke leaning casually against the driver-side door waiting for me after closing like he belonged there. Like I belonged to him. The second he realized I wasn’t willingly getting in the truck, his hand wrapped around my wrist hard enough to make me gasp before he twisted my arm backward, trying to force me toward the passenger door.
I could still hear his voice low against my ear. “Stop making scenes, Bliss.”
Then Carolynn walked outside, and just like that, Luke changed.
His grip disappeared instantly. His expression softened into concern while he reached for me gentler this time, laughing quietly like I was the dramatic one.
“Baby, calm down. You’re overthinking this.”
Carolynn ate it up immediately.
Luke always knew exactly when to become charming. That was the terrifying thing about him. He didn’t look dangerous when people were watching. He looked calm. Handsome. Sweet. Protective.
People loved Luke that was half the problem.
The treadmill sped up another level beneath my feet while I forced my eyes toward the mirrored wall instead of the shirtless hockey captain ten feet away currently destroying my emotional stability one dumbbell curl at a time.
“You’re staring,” Cade said casually.
My eyes widened immediately. “I literally am not.”
One dark eyebrow lifted slowly as heat crawled straight into my cheeks.
Fuck.
Remember the bear, Bliss.
He smirked slightly before leaning back onto the bench again, dumbbells lowering toward his chest in slow, controlled motions. “It’s okay, Pip. I’m very attractive. We can be honest about it.”
I snorted despite myself. “Your ego is actually exhausting.”
“And yet,” he grunted softly between reps, “you keep coming back.”
