Rushing the Goal (Assassins #8)(30)

He just didn’t understand why she’d lied to him. Why she’d looked him in the eyes and said no. He could see it all over her sweet face. The way her lips parted, the way her body arched toward his. Her eyes were dark emeralds, and they narrowed like a cat that was being stroked to oblivion. She wanted him. Damn bad. And f*ck, he wanted her.

But along with the lust in her eyes, he could see the hesitation. The hurt. Her backstory, the reason why hurt and hesitation were in her eyes wasn’t for the fainthearted. He could see that and he hated it. He knew his story was one hell of one, but his was only his fault. He deserved his hurt. But someone had hurt her, and that didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t want anyone causing her pain, nor Angie. He cared for them.

Maybe he was crazy. He had only known them for a couple days, but not since Ava and Leary had he felt so overprotective of someone. After the car wreck, after losing his wife, daughter, and brother, and then his family because of it, he hadn’t been able to feel anything. He went through life, building it back to somewhat normal. It wasn’t easy, and it sucked being sober, but he was finally good in life. He had a good career, he had friends, but he yearned for love.

And then Lucy and Angie came along.

They were different.

They were special.

He just needed a chance.

And he was going to get it.





After the whistle blew, Angie raced across the ice, falling down on her stomach and then getting back up before skating back and redoing it with the rest of the team. Benji stood with Shea and Vaughn, watching as the girls did the drills, working hard. But something was off. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that Angie was upset about something. He had tried to ask her, but she just shook her head, claiming nothing was wrong.

He knew that wasn’t true, though.

“Hart seem okay to you guys?”

Vaughn shrugged, and Shea looked over at him. “I thought she was a little off. She doesn’t seem as peppy, not like Wednesday when she was bouncing off the walls. I don’t know, maybe this is her normal?”

Benji shook his head. “No, something is up.”

“Okay, just keep an eye on her. I’ll say something to Lucy about it,” Shea decided, but once more Benji shook his head.

“No, I will.”

Shea smiled and Vaughn laughed. “Someone’s got a crush.”

“Shut it, Johansson,” Benji said as Adler blew the whistle and the girls stopped, gasping in deep breaths.

“Water break!” Adler roared across the ice and then looked to Vaughn. “You guys leave Sunday?”

He nodded. “Yeah. So we won’t be here for the next week. The game next Saturday is at nine, right?”

“Yeah, you guys will make it?”

“Yeah, but do you have someone who can cover next week?” Benji asked, hopeful they would be good to the girls.

“Yeah, I’ll call in some help. No biggie. Girls are going to miss you guys, though,” Shea said as he started to skate toward the group. They followed along with him, and for once, Benji didn’t want to go on the road. Usually, he didn’t care, but he felt like he had things to do here.

Really, he didn’t, but he wished he did.

When they reached the area where the girls were getting water by the benches, Benji saw that Angie was standing by herself, moving a puck back and forth. Before he could head over there, Shea’s voice filled the rink.

“Coaches Vaughn and Benji are leaving us for some away games. So let’s take a moment and wish them good luck on the road!”

All the girls clapped and cheered for them, a chant of “Go Assassins” beginning, and the guys grinned. The girls were a good group, and Benji was going to miss them. But when he looked over to Angie, she looked sad as she went back to playing with the puck. Skating over to where she was, he leaned against the boards and watched as she moved it in and out of her legs mindlessly, messing up, but he didn’t think she cared. As the chants died down, Benji cleared his throat.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She looked up, her little face twisting in confusion. She was sweaty, her cheeks red, but the frustration was in her eyes. He wasn’t sure what a seven-year-old had to be frustrated about, but he sure as hell didn’t think she needed to be. “What’s that mean?”

He grinned. “Means ‘what’s up?’”

“Nothing,” she said simply, shooting the puck against the boards with a little more aggression than needed.

He smiled. “Nothing, or you don’t want to talk about it? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” she said and then let out a breath.

“Do you not want to talk to me?” he asked because—who was he? He was just her coach. “That’s completely okay.”

She looked up at him once more and then shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s just I’m worried about my mom.”

His heart started to race as he came off the boards. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, I just think she’s mad because my dad is coming here to get me early.”

“Early?”

She nodded. “Yeah, he should be here soon. I have to watch for when he comes.”

“Oh,” he said, and he wasn’t sure why his heart dropped a bit. “Well, I’m sure she’s not mad at you.”