Page 91 of Forbidden Forward

“Not yet. I tried calling the GM but was told he’d get back to me.”

Resigned to the fact that I’ll be traded soon, I sag against the counter. This is for the best, I tell myself, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. “How long ago did you leave a message?”

“Three days.” I suck in a sharp breath. He obviously hears me because he’s quick to add, “Doesn’t mean anything, son. The race for that final spot in the playoffs is going right down to the wire, and the front office’s focus is on making it to the postseason. I didn’t expect to have a conversation with him about contracts right now. All normal.”

“Makes sense.” But it still leaves me unsettled.

We talk options for another fifteen minutes and end the call. The next few hours drag by while I do laundry, catch up on bills, and try not to think about a green-eyed beauty seven floors above me.

Nick breaks the monotony when he calls. “Did you hear about Dylan?”

“No, what’s going on?”

Nick inhales. “He’s got a grade-three MCL tear and a seriously fucked-up quad. He’s scheduled for surgery next week. His season is over, man.”

“Fuck!” Not only is his season over, but he’s got a long road to recovery. What if he’s never the same?

Nick and I talk for another minute. When we hang up, I leave the groceries where they are, sit on my couch, and stare out the window. The sky’s a dull gray that matches my mood.

What I need is a shot or five, but when I check the small cabinet that houses my entire liquor supply, I decide to go back out and hit the liquor store just around the corner.

As I stalk back to the building with my purchase, I see Harper coming out. He lifts his chin.

Oh shit.

“Heard about Dyl?” he asks.

“Nick told me. It fucking sucks.” I hold up my brown paper bag. “That’s why I need this.”

Harper bobs his head. “I’m headed over to his place now to see how he’s doing.” He seems to debate for an instant. “Want me to tell him anything?”

“Yeah.” I deflate. “Tell him I’m so damn sorry.”

“We all are.” Harper jerks. “Wait. Sorry for what?”

I swallow. Hard. “It’s my fault he got taken down.”

Harper narrows his eyes. “How do you figure? You weren’t even on the ice when it happened.”

“No, but I provoked the guy who took him out.” I brace myself for whatever Harper is about to hurl at me. First, his best buddy gets traded for me, and now I’m responsible for his linemate’s injury.

Harper’s gaze shifts to somewhere off in the distance, then slides back to mine. “He didn’t have to stick his knee out. It was deliberate, and it was dirty. That asshole could have done a lot of other things to stop Dyl that wouldn’t have ended his season.”

“His mom died two days earlier.”

“So?” Harper snorts. “Look, I’m sorry he lost his mother, but it doesn’t give him permission to take out a guy with a knee-on-knee.”

Is Harper actually defending me?

Awkward beats of silence pass, and I finally tell Harper I’ll text Dylan later and see how he’s doing or if he needs anything. He nods and strolls away, leaving me looking at his back in bewilderment. Wouldn’t it be pure irony if we just crossed some invisible barrier?

Chapter 41

Royally Screwed

Jackie

Donny returns home after seeing his teammate Dylan, and he’s down in the dumps, so I offer to take him out for a beer. His favorite bar is only a few blocks away, and we exit the building and head in that direction. A shiver skitters down my spine, and I pause to look over my shoulder.