Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)(6)

“Ana!” Jason yells.

I jump, grasping my heart with flour-covered hands.

“Ana,” he yells again, banging on the door. “I left my keys at the fucking rink. Let me in!”

I swallow as I hurry to wash my hands. Part of me imagines what it would be like to leave the door locked, wander to our room, and curl up in bed without Jason. The idea is more tempting than it should be, and the resulting guilt propels me toward the door.

“What took you so long?” he mutters, pushing past me when I let him inside. Hobbes growls from the corner, and Jason snaps at him. “Shut it.”

It seems absolutely laughable that there was ever a time when I’d welcome Jason home with open arms, that he’d wrap me in a soft embrace and plant kisses on the top of my head. That was over a year ago, and so much has changed since then.

“I’m sorry,” I say, training my voice once again. “I was in the kitchen and my hands were covered in gunk. I had to wash them first.”

“Why does it smell like gas in here?” Jason asks, his voice more accusing than inquiring.

“I was making cookies.”

“One of these days, I’m going to come home and you’ll have burned the whole fucking building down.” He sneers, dropping his hockey bag and coat on the floor as he heads for the bathroom. The door closes behind him.

I stay frozen to the spot until I hear the shower running. Hobbes plants himself outside the bathroom door, growling.

Like a zombie, I stumble back to the kitchen. It isn’t until I place the cookie sheets into the oven with shaking hands that I realize how furious I am.





3




* * *





Broken Glass and Broken Promises





Grant



“I’m happy to go support the Little Rookies charity camp this year.” I nod, opening the notebook I placed on the table in front of me.

“Great, so that’s settled.” Coach Dodd rests his elbows on the conference room table, looking around. “Choose another player to go with you too.”

I grab the water bottle in front of me to take a long drink. We’re halfway through our regular weekly meeting with the team leadership, the one I’m invited to sit in on as the team captain.

I write down the date for the charity camp event on the notebook calendar in front of me. The guys usually tease me, pointing out that there are more technology-friendly ways to keep track of my schedule, but today everyone’s quiet. Maybe they’re just focused on getting through the agenda that Coach has scrawled on the white board at one end of the conference room.

“What else?” Coach says, tapping his pen against the table as his gaze drifts to the agenda. “Oh, right, we need to decide which cause we’re supporting this season.”

Last year we supported breast cancer research, donating a portion of ticket sales to cancer treatment and awareness. Our usual black laces were replaced with pink ones in all the guys’ skates last October.

“We need a decision in the next week. Grant, you got any suggestions?”

“Yeah,” I reply, distracted as my cell phone vibrates in the pocket of my jeans. “Let me put some thought into it and get back to you by the end of the week.”

“Sure thing,” Coach Dodd says, then launches into the next agenda item as my phone vibrates again.

I pull it out and see a number I don’t recognize. But based on the fact that whoever it is has called me twice in quick succession has my senses tingling and concern tightening my stomach.

“I need to take this,” I say, holding up my phone.

Coach nods. “Sure, we’re just wrapping up.”

I slip out of my seat and head into the hall for some privacy as I answer. “Hello?”

“Grant.” The woman’s voice is a little breathless, and it takes me a second to place it.

“Ana?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry to call you out of the blue. It’s just . . .”

An uncharacteristic feeling of worry stirs low in my gut. “It’s fine. What’s going on?”

She hesitates, and I hear her take a deep, steadying breath. “Can you, um, can you come get me?”

“Now?”

She hesitates again. “Yeah, if you could. But it’s okay if you can’t. I can figure something out.”

“Where are you?”

“At the apartment. Second floor, 201.”

“I’m on my way.”

I end the call and stick my head back into the conference room to announce that I need to take off a few minutes early. Coach gives me a quick wave and says it’s no problem. And then I’m on my way to the apartment where I dropped Ana off last night.

Honestly, I never expected her to be back here. Sure, I gave her my number just in case, but I never expected her to use it. Especially not so quickly.

In fifteen minutes, I’m back to the same corner I dropped Ana off at last night. But instead of stopping at the curb and keeping the engine running, this time I’m looking for parking. I locate a spot and leave my Tesla on the street.

I make it up to the second floor and find the door to apartment 201 is open, just a crack. I take it as an invitation to enter, knocking twice as I push the door the rest of the way open.