Page 77 of The Heart Breaker

Their winger tries to carry the puck out of the zone, but I step up, knock it off his stick, and send it hard along the boards. Logan picks it up and swings wide.

I head that way too, cutting toward the crease just as Logan sends it flying toward Austin. He takes the shot, and the puck flies straight into the back of the net.

The horn blares, and Austin slams into me, knocking me off balance, yelling right in my ear as his helmet cracks against mine. A quick grin pulls at my mouth before I can stop it, and then I glance up at the stands, already looking for her without even thinking about it.

I find her straight away, on her feet beside Maisie, clapping, smiling, and…fuck.

She’s wearing my jacket.

The whole place is loud, Austin still mouthing off beside me, the crowd on its feet, but all I can see is her with my jacket wrapped around her shoulders. I get why guys lose their minds over girls in their jerseys now. Though I’m pretty sure I’m always going to prefer her in my jacket.

It does something to me, seeing it on her. Seeing her in something that’s mine. Like she belongs to me.

She leans toward Maisie to say something, then looks back toward the ice, and the second her eyes find me, her smile widens.

Something really fucking weird happens in my chest. It fizzes, stutters, beats way too damn hard.

Has to be the adrenaline from the goal.

Has to be.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Chase says, the bitter laugh in his voice dragging my attention off her. His lip curls and he lets out a scoff. “Sniffing around my leftovers, Ellis?”

My teeth grind together. He’s just talking shit. That’s all this is. That’s what he does.

Let it go, Cole.

I force myself back into position and drag my focus to the faceoff circle, but I can still feel his eyes on me. When I glance over, he’s still staring, glaring at me.

Anyone finding out about me and Aurora would be bad enough. But her ex? That’s about as worst-case as it gets.

The ref blows the whistle and the puck hits the ice, but Chase doesn’t even look at it. He cuts straight across, eyes locked on me, and I barely have half a second to react before his elbow cracks into my jaw and snaps my head to the side.

Pain bursts hot across my face. My skates slide out and I slam into the boards.

“Two and a ten,” the ref yells, pointing at Chase.

But he doesn’t head for the box right away. He coasts past me first, the corner of his mouth curling. “How’s it feel?” he says. “Knowing I had her first?”

You promised her you wouldn’t hit him.

My tongue presses against the cut inside my cheek, and when I taste blood, I spit it onto the ice and turn away from him.

The puck drops. Austin wins it and throws it back to Logan, who cuts through their defense before sending it across the slot to Ryan, but one of Westbrook’s defensemen jumps the pass, and just like that, they’re coming back at us.

“Back, back!” Coach yells from the boards, and I skate backward, keeping my eyes on the puck.

I angle my stick and force their winger wide, steering him toward the boards until he’s got nothing left except a garbage-angle shot that Nathan swallows clean with his glove.

I head for the bench with my lungs burning and drop onto the seat to wait out the two minutes. When my next shift comes, I hop the boards and get back into position.

That’s when I look up and see Chase stepping out of the box, his eyes already locked on me.

“You’re wasting your goddamn time, Ellis,” he spits, coasting closer. “You really think she’d even entertain the idea of fucking you?”

This asshole has a death wish tonight.

He laughs and follows when I skate away. “She’ll come crawling back to me.”