Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Now, why would I do that? She’s the reason for all your troubles anyway.”
I don’t dignify that with a response.
“Fine.” He waves a hand. “I’ll leave Molly alone. She’s nothing compared to the other girl, anyway. Anyone ever tell you that windows are clear?” A high-pitched whistle soars past his lips. “Who knew the coach’s kid was so flexible?” He grins like a lunatic. And why not? He knows he has me. “I bet she tastes as good as she looks.”
That’s it.
I don’t even feel the last of my self-control draining.
In an instant, I have him plastered against the door.
He flails in my hold, his legs dangling comically. “Careful there, nephew. You wouldn’t want anyone to hear. How would the coach feel if I told him everything? Past. Present. I have pictures of that, too.”
He wriggles his body until I let him out of my hold, knowing nothing good will come out of touching him.
With a grin, he flicks my hands off his chest and steps out from where I cornered him. “I’ll be in contact.”
The scumbag doesn’t wait for me to respond.
He just walks out the way he came.
My skin buzzes with anger. Ribbons of rage loop around my throat, robbing me of my breath. I want to go after him, throw him against the wall, and pound the shit out of him within an inch of his life.
Fuck.
My fist flies out and punches the door.
The skin of my knuckles cracks, and red rivulets bubble to the surface.
I’m not used to this. Protecting people is wired in my DNA. Since I stepped into skates, Dad drilled it into me.
Protect, protect, protect.
Only this time…the person my loved ones need protecting from is me.
63
JOSIE
I was late to the game, but I didn’t miss how Dane played. He looked possessed by the devil. In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him like that. His whole demeanor was different.
Sure, he’s always been grumpy, but this was different. He looked like he was breaking apart inside, and then when he fought with the other team, pounding his fists, the blood spraying across the ice . . .
Yeah, something isn’t right.
I’m halfway down the corridor when my dad lifts his arm, waving me over. I head over to him. “Hey. What’s going on?”
“Dane dropped his keys, but I have to meet with someone. Would you mind giving them to him?”
“Sure, no problem.”
Big problem actually, but sure, why not.
Should be fun. Approaching Dane when he’s in a mood is right up there with getting a root canal.
I turn toward the hallway that leads to the back door of the stadium. My pace is between a fast walk and a jog, wanting to get this over with.
He’s already outside by the time I make it to the door and push it open. The cool fall air hits me in the face. I shiver, crossing my arms in front of my chest to lock in some heat.
“Dane!” I shout to get his attention. He turns over his shoulder and looks at me but doesn’t stop. What the hell is wrong with him? I pick up my pace, jogging in his direction. Once I’m beside him, he finally stops.
I lift my hand, and he takes a step back. “You dropped your keys.”
It might be dark out, but even under the canopy of a black sky, I can see his face. A face devoid of emotions.
His blue eyes look hollow, and his jaw is tight enough to snap. I search for anything else there—sadness, anger—but there’s nothing. A chill runs down my spine. Is that even possible? But the evidence is clear as day. He’s merely a body, a vessel, a soulless god.
His hand reaches out, and I meet him halfway, dropping the fob into his open palm.
I don’t like this. Something is clearly very wrong with him.
I move closer, wary and unsure, but knowing I need to confirm he’s okay despite everything. “I’m worried about you.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
I lift my hand back out and touch his arm this time, but he pushes my hand off. It feels like my hand is sizzling from the touch.
“I don’t understand what’s going on with you.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
A gust of wind blows. Sharp and fast. A storm is rolling in.
The loose strands of my hair whip against my face, blinding me for a second before I push them away. “’Cause you’re so busy right now?”
“Actually, yes,” he growls.
He continues to walk toward his car.
I keep pace with him, walking faster than my short gait can handle, but I refuse for him to get in his car and drive away.
The closer we get, the brighter it gets. There’s a streetlight beside his car. The light flickers on and off like the bulb is about to blow.
My lids blink every time it momentarily shuts off.