Page 125 of Devious Obsession
I pile in Greyson’s truck with the other guys, Miles and Jacob and me squashed in the back together while Knox claims the front. In no time, we’re parked at the stadium and heading inside.
“Maybe move her into the house,” Knox suggests. “She might like it more now that you’re regularly fucking and not trying to make her cry.”
I huff. “I didn’t want her to cry.”
Knox rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“That was the original plan anyway, wasn’t it?” Miles eyes me. “I don’t give a fuck, by the way. Have her stay. We both know you’re going to end up moving out anyway.”
I grumble. Having her in my bed would solve a lot of problems. But there’s no way she’d go for it—she already balked after I told our parents she’d move in with me. Which is why she hasn’t… and I haven’t made her.
Not sure why.
Maybe I like her independence.
It hasn’t stopped me from staying at her place every night this week. Massaging the backaches away, giving her toe-curling orgasms that stave off the cramps. Being generally… I don’t know. Boyfriend-like.
I wouldn’t even call myself her boyfriend. We’re together, sure, butboyfriendis too weak a word for what I am to her. And what she is to me.
“If something bad happens, I’ll never forgive myself,” I say under my breath. I don’t want to voice the rest: that Iknowsomething bad is going to happen. As surely as I know the sun will rise tomorrow morning. I can feel it in my bones.
Greyson sits beside me, clapping me on the shoulder. “It’s not going to come to that.”
Yeah.
Maybe.
“You could put a tracker on her phone,” Greyson suggests.
“Or under her skin, maybe?” I open my phone and reveal the tracking app—similar to the one he uses to keep tabs on Violet, but a little more…more. The tattoo isn’t the only thing I gave her when I drugged her at the party last week.
“Dude.” Greyson leans in for a better look. “That’s ballsy.”
I shrug. “Rhodes gave me the tech.”
We both look across the locker room at Jacob, who’s standing in the doorway with his skates already on, talking to one of the juniors. Unlike us, he’s forgoing the pads today—I think his role is purely demonstrative.
“He’s all sorts of fucked up after that professor left,” I say. “He’s got access to quite a lot because of his dad, and he said he can’t find any trace of her.”
If anyone is a stalker, it’s Jacob Rhodes. Not that I blame him—his obsession with his professor last year randeep. Until she up and disappeared without so much as a trace. It left him not quite sane, but I think that’s why the NHL wanted him. Because he became ruthless on the ice, and recruits took notice.
Anyway, it worked out for him, minus getting the girl.
“So even if something happens, you can find her,” Greyson assures me. He finishes lacing his skates and rises. “Let’s go put on a show for our fans.”
I sigh and rise. Miles is almost done with his full pads—the gear goalies wear always cracks me up—and Knox is helping him secure the last pad on his leg. He’s got his helmet under his arm, a water bottle in his grip. I grab my stuff and follow everyone out.
We set our bottles on the bench. I stuff the mouthpiece past my lips and fit it to my upper teeth, then step out onto the ice. Coach is already out with Jacob, standing near the penalty boxes. There’s already a ton of pucks on the ice, waiting for our warm-up. I palm my stick and head toward them with Greyson, picking off a few and sending them flying toward Knox.
Our warm-up has always been seamless. Before games, before practice, we do the same thing. Shooting drills, passing. Stretching. The rest of our team comes out onto the ice, and we cycle through shooting. Miles takes his position in the goal.
A cheer goes up from the stadium when he stops one.
I cast a glance in that direction, frowning.
It’s not unusual for the diehard fans to show up to practice, trying to get players to notice them. I secretly think they’d like us to lavish them with attention, although a wink or a smirk works. The glass doesn’t hide their reactions from us either. Especially if they’re close enough.
I do a double take.
