Page 45 of Playing Dirty
I turn around and there she is, framed in the doorway. She'sstill in the sundress she wore to the game, with a sweater pulled over it now, and her hair is falling in loose waves around her shoulders. Her makeup is smudged, just a touch, under her eyes.
She's been crying. It fucking breaks me to see her like that.
"Hey." My voice comes out rough. "Are you alright, Ace?"
"Me?" Her eyes go wide. "I'm fine. Security took my statement an hour ago. One of the ushers showed me where the families wait, but you never came out. So I went looking. I think I'm technically trespassing at this point, but…"
“Look,” I rake a hand through my hair. "I'm sorry if I scared you out there. I saw him grab you, and it didn't look like anyone else was going to step in."
“You've never scared me, Cillian.” She lets out a soft, shaky laugh. "I just... I'm terrified foryou. This is bad, isn't it?"
“Yeah, it’s bad.” I shrug, walking over to her. "Best case, they see the footage of what he did to you and knock it down to a handful of games. Worst case, they make an example of me and I'm done for the postseason."
"The rest of the postseason," she breathes. "Cillian. That's the entire playoffs."
"Yeah, Ace. I'm aware."
"I should have shoved him off." Her hands are moving in frantic gestures. "I just froze, and if I hadn't, you wouldn't have had to?—"
"Stop." I reach out, my fingers closing around her hand before she can spiral any further. "Margot, look at me. That man assaulted you. There's no version where this is your fault. Every choice I made out there on that ice was mine. This isn't on you."
"Still." She shakes her head, slowly withdrawing her hand from mine. "This is a mess, and I don't have the first clue how to fix it."
"It's not on you to fix, Ace. I'm the one who did it and I'll face the consequences. I hate that I've put my teammates in this position, but I don't regret the act itself."
She presses a hand to her forehead and turns away from me, taking two steps down the empty hallway and then back, like she can't quite figure out where to put herself.
"I just… I can't believe you." She actually looks pissed off now. "How are you so calm right now? This is a huge fucking deal!"
"Calm?" A startled laugh escapes me. "Ace, I've spent the last three hours losing my mind in a conference room over the fact that I just blew up our entire season. Trust me, I'm drowning in guilt for letting the squad down. But what's done is done, and I'll handle the fallout."
"Thenwhy?" she bursts out, her voice echoing. "Why would you do something so completely reckless? You have a Cup to win and a team, and you might have ruined all of it just because some drunk asshole touched me."
"I think it's pretty fucking obvious why, Ace." I hold her gaze, the truth sitting heavy between us.
"No. It’s not obvious." She glares at me, a flush of color hitting her neck. "Literally anything else was an option. I was rattled, but I wasn’t in real danger. And now?—"
"I'm not claiming violence is the answer to everything,” I cut in, “but for men who think they can assault women? Yeah, I'm okay with them catching a fist for it. It's a fucking disgrace that no one else around you stepped in."
"Even if that's true, you could have called an usher or something." She shakes her head, frustration practically radiating off her in waves. "I just don't understand why you made it so personal."
Looking down at her, I can't believe I was ever blind enough to miss what was staring me in the face.
"You know exactly why it was personal." I take a step closer, half-naked and dripping and beyond caring. "Don't pretend you don't. You've known for weeks. You just won't let yourself say it out loud."
She lifts her chin. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Liar."
I take the final step until there's no room left to breathe, the heat of her body radiating against my bare chest, close enough that one deep breath from either of us would close the distance. Water is still dripping off me, tracking down my chest, and her eyes follow one drop before snapping back up.
"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel this," I say, low. "Tell me, and I'll back off right now. I'll never bring it up again."
Her eyes stay on mine, but she doesn't step back.
"Cillian," she breathes, a whisper that could be a plea for me to stop or a desperate invitation to continue.
Her gaze drops to my mouth, and I lean in until I can feel her breath against my skin. Our eyes lock again, a match for the fire currently consuming my blood.
