Page 144 of Devious Obsession
No. If that was the case, they wouldn’t still be in her apartment. No sick fucker holds a girl hostage when her roommate could come home at any time.
“Okay, guys.” Coach claps to get our attention.
I sit beside Miles and focus on him. Well, I try anyway.
“We’re facing our toughest competition yet,” Coach warns. He takes a second to meet all of our gazes. “But you’ve prepared for this. You’rereadyfor this. So go out there and play your damn hearts out and make Crown Point proud.”
We all jump to our feet, jostling each other. I pull my helmet on and slip my mouth guard in, elbowing Miles. I leave my phone in my bag, hoping that Aspen is just running behind. But also knowing that she might not be.
We take the ice. My stick feels foreign in my hand, and I look down at it. The tape is all wrong, the stick too short.
Whose stick did I grab?
I hurry to the bench. We’ve got an equipment manager on hand who stays at the back, and I hop up to pass him the foreign stick.
“What the hell are you doing, O’Brien?” Coach barks at me.
The equipment manager hands me my backup stick, and I wave Coach off. My mood sours further when the game starts. I can’t seem to concentrate on what’s happening—and as a result, our opponents are skating circles around me.
Someone checks me into the wall. My face rebounds off the glass, my teeth cutting into my cheek. Blood fills my mouth, and I shove off it to chase after them. I spit the blood out as I charge. Another of their teammates has the puck, so I change my angle and slam into them.
It’s a move similar to the one Jacob performed on me at practice, and it works great… until I realize that he passed the puck before I fucking touched him.
The more distracted I get, the angrier I get.
How could she do this?
I scan the seats again, where Iknowshe sits. My gaze lifts to suite 12, but all I see is a woman in a dress. Aspen’s mother, maybe.
There’s a roar from the crowd, and then the shocked quiet that follows a goal from our opposition. I whip my head around, only to find Miles climbing back to his feet. He scowls at me, and I understand that this was my fault.
A horn blows.
I skate for the bench and jump the boards, taking a seat before anyone can say anything. I squirt water into my mouth, flushing out the taste of blood.
Fuck.
Coach stops behind me. “What is your problem, O’Brien? I haven’t seen you play with your head so far up your ass since you were a freshmen.”
I stiffen. “I just need a minute, Coach.”
“See that’s all that it is,” he snaps.
He retreats to his spot, clipboard under his arm. He watches them restart, but my gaze goes to the stadium. Specifically, to the fan section. I go row by row, double-checking that Aspen isn’t there. Then the suite again.
Without my phone, I don’t know if she left her apartment—but I do know that this is unacceptable. Part of me wants to storm back to the locker room just to check. If I were Greyson, he would’ve snuck his phone out here and put it with his water bottle or some shit. I grit my teeth and remain still.
Greyson drops into the seat next to me.
“Spill,” he demands.
“Aspen’s not here.”
“And you’re worried?” Greyson looks across at where Violet and Willow sit.
“Of course I’m fucking worried.” I shoot a glare filled with loathing at him. It’s misguided, obviously. He didn’t do anything wrong. But I’m boiling already. Itoldher what would happen if she didn’t show up. “And pissed. And lost.”
He sighs and pulls out his phone.
