Chapter 32

"Just wondering if there was a bigger suite available?" Felicity asks. Her cheeky, sarcastic tongue is in full flow these days, and I love it.

"Would you prefer something a little more elaborate, Ms. Thompson?" I ask, dumping my suitcase on the king-size bed and wrapping my arms around her waist from behind.

"Well, it is a tad on the small side. I expected more of you."

"I do apologize, Your Royal Highness."

"For a linguistics graduate, your British accent needs some work." Felicity pats me on the shoulder and saunters off toward the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind her as she strips down to her red bra and lacy thong. At the doorway, she glances back at me and winks, and I can say with absolute certainty I've never moved so quickly, not even on the ice.

"By the way, Kate said she can help with the move. I mean, I don't have much in the way of personal items, since my apartment came fully furnished, but I do have a few knick-knacks to clutter your apartment with. Sorry." Felicity looks up at me from her phone.

I pause on packing my training bag. "That's kind of her, but she doesn't need to worry about the move and neither do you." I glance at my watch and hope I haven't gone too far this time. "The removal guys are arriving at your place in about an hour so by the time we get home, it'll be done. I arranged it all with your landlord, and he's agreed to release you early from the lease."

I cast a tentative glance in her direction, but her expression is unreadable. "I should probably be mad at you for wading in like a bull in a china shop."

"But?" I press.

"Honestly? I'm kind of too excited to be mad. Although it's always nice to be kept in the loop you know."

I puff out a breath and lean across to kiss her, smiling against her lips. "Me, too, Angel, and I know. I was hoping to keep it a surprise, but you kind of forced my hand here."

I pull away reluctantly and stride into the bathroom to gather my wash gear. A couple of minutes later, I return to the main room but stop dead in my tracks at the sight of my girl wearing my name and number—every hockey player's holy grail.

"What do you think?" she asks, giving me a little twirl.

I bring my fist to my mouth and bite down on a groan. God damn, my name looks like it was made for her.

"I think if you prance around in that much longer then I'm going to be really late for my morning skate." I've just fucked her twice against the tiles in the shower, but my dick twitches for more, and I stride over, debating whether to miss the session altogether.

Giggling, she steps away from me and pulls on some jeans. "I think I'm going to check out the shops while you're out this morning. I'll be at the rink for six." She kisses my cheek, pulling on her black winter jacket, emerald scarf, and cute Scorpions hat, and makes for the door. "Have a good skate, baby."

Oh no, she doesn't. I grab her by the waist and pull her to me. "Or...you could stay here with me, and I'll make sure my name on the back of that jersey isn't the only way I claim you as mine."

She smiles but instead spins my cap so it's facing backward. "Better. But seriously, you're going to be late. However, if you play your cards right, I promise I'll be wearing this and only this for you later."

I drop my face to the crook of her neck and drag my hands down her sides, tempted to lift her and throw her onto the bed. Her petite size is perfect for doing just that. But I resist at the thought of Coach's unbearable wrath if I were to be late. I pull on the bobble of her hat. "What's on your shopping list, Angel?" Please let it be lacy lingerie.

"Nothing in particular. I just heard it's great here for retail therapy, so I'm going to explore, maybe grab a few bits for Darcy's birthday, although it's still a few months away."

"Was she okay with you coming back to Seattle early?" I ask, knowing Jack was more than fine with it as he joined us in first class from Heathrow. He's a good kid and we're starting to form a friendship; I see a lot of Felicity in Jack.

"I didn't tell her what happened with her dad. I'll leave him to explain why he has a broken nose. But yeah, she understood why I couldn't stay. To be honest, I don't even think she's left Liam's since Christmas Day."

Reaching into my back pocket I pull out my wallet and hand her my credit card. "Anything you want, just put it on this."

She shakes her head vigorously. "Jon, no. I can't take this."

"Are we really having this conversation again? Let me spoil my girlfriend."

She tentatively takes the card, but I have my doubts that she'll use it.

"When you arrive at the stadium later, just head for the family suite."

"Will anyone I know be there?"

"Jensen's parents are visiting from Alberta, so they'll be there, and then there's Amie, Zach's girlfriend. They recently got back together."

Felicity stiffens. "Based on my last experience, I'll be avoiding any interaction with her."

My brows knit together. "Clue me in here."

"Let's just say I can see why Zach has had trouble with her in the past. She made it pretty clear to me that night at Riley's that I was the flavor of the month, and you were basically just using me for sex."

My blood boils. How am I only hearing about this now? I knew something went down that night when she wanted to leave. "She's so full of bullshit," I snap.

"I gathered that, but if I was in any doubt, she pointed me toward her friends Bryony and Sarah, I think they were called. Apparently, they could ‘vouch for your antics,'" she mocks.

Turns out Amie isn't totally full of bullshit. I've fucked them both. I think. Possibly together.

"I put her straight though, baby." Felicity folds her hand around the nape of my neck, pulling my head toward hers, so our eyes meet. "I don't give a shit about your past, only your future. I'm just not that keen on being Amie's new bestie."

Fuck me, this woman.

What have I done to deserve her?

I inwardly work to control my anger at the blatant way Amie tried to sabotage my relationship. "Yeah, keep away from her. She's bad news." I kiss the corner of her mouth and rest my forehead against hers. "I love you, so fucking much." I'm yet to hear those words in return, but I know they'll come. I've always been ahead in my feelings and that's okay, as long as she gets there eventually.

Her thumb strokes my cheek as our noses brush. "I'll see you on the ice. I'll be the one wearing number twenty-two."

"Evans,what the fuck is wrong with you?" Coach Burrows yells from the side.

We've been going over some light drills. Zach's game has been off for weeks, and his head has been everywhere but on the ice. The team has been carrying him, but against the New York Blades, we need our enforcer and at six-five and two hundred and thirty pounds, Zach has always been our guy.

I skate over to him; he's barely spoken with the team since he got here, but he hasn't even looked at me. "Yo, man, what's going on?" I take a gulp of my Gatorade and lean against the side.

"Nothing," he snaps.

"Well, clearly there is. You haven't been at it for the past few weeks." I'm desperately trying to toe the line between best friend and captain responsibilities. He of all people should get that as my AC."Coach is riding you because your head hasn't been in it for weeks. I need you; we need you at your best tonight. So, tell me, what can I do to help?"

He turns to look at me for the first time all session. "You can help me by fucking off."

The fuck? This isn't the Zach Evans I know, my bro on and off the ice. His words piss me off, but his tone slices straight through me.

"Yeah, well, no can do. So, get your shit together or we're toast out there tonight."

I shake my head and begin to skate away. "You think you're untouchable now you have the girl? Jesus, you stroll around here like you're God's gift. You've been so wrapped up in your own perfect world you can't see anything other than her. Not even your so-called bro and the shit I've got going on." He skates up to me and shoves his hand at my chest. He's got an inch and at least ten pounds on me but more than that, Zach might be a pussycat off the ice, but he was born to fight on it.

"What?"

He blows out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, I thought so. No fucking idea what's going on around you."

"Well, I won't if you don't fucking tell me!" I shout, bringing the rest of practice to a halt.

He lurches forward getting right in my face, his anger bubbling over. "I shouldn't fucking have to. I've always been there for you man, and where are you when I need you? Knee deep in pussy, as fucking always."

My stomach rolls, and I want to hurl. He's right. I don't know what's sent him into this downward spiral, but I do know I should've been there to protect him. My heart rate begins to pick up, and all I can hear is the throbbing pound of my pulse in my ears and a sharp pain in my chest. "It's Amie, isn't it? She's been giving Felicity shit too."

Zach drags a gloved hand over his face. "Yeah, something like that." Bitterness is still clear in his voice. "The whole situation is fucked. My fucking life is totally fucked." His last two words shake as his voice cracks. I've never seen my stoic best friend break, but he's on the edge of losing it now, I can tell.

"Okay, you're worrying me now, just tell me what's?—"

"She's fucking pregnant, alright? She told me three days ago that she's pregnant. At first, I was scared but excited, and now… Now there's doubt over whether it's mine."

What the fuck.

My mouth opens but the words die on my tongue.

Finally, he continues. "The news hasn't broken yet, but it will. This is Amie. Of course it will break. She called me last night telling me she'd been sleeping with Schneider after all, and he's claiming it to be his. He wants her to take a paternity test as soon as possible, but she's saying it can only be mine." His laugh is dark. "Apparently, she loves me."

I'm dead on my feet, unresponsive. Zach's revelation swirls in my head, but nothing seems to be registering other than this is bad. Really fucking bad. And the kicker? He's about to play the other potential father in only a few hours. I have to tell Coach that he needs to be benched; it's not safe for him to play in this headspace.

My best friend drops his head between his shoulders and pulls off his helmet, running a hand through his sweat-soaked mousy brown hair. "No one knows, not even my parents, and I'm desperate to keep it this way." He looks up at me then, his blue eyes glassy but fierce. "I'm playing tonight. Do not tell Coach. At this rate, I'm one bad game away from the farm team, so please, just keep it quiet."

I shake my head. "You know I can't let you go out there when you're in the place you are."

He pokes me hard in the chest with his gloved hand. "And how many times have I kept my mouth shut when you played still half-cooked? How many times did I cover for you when I dragged you out of bars just hours before practice? I've got this handled, but tell Coach, and you and me…" he motions between us. "We're done."

"He's a liability out there."Coach Burrows turns to me on the bench. It's the start of the third period and we're down three to nothing. The entire team is crumbling, but Zach is playing in slow motion. He and Schneider have been eating at each other all game, the tension palpable and bordering on lethal.

My game isn't much better. I've barely made a clean pass, and my defensive support in the slot and behind the net has been non-existent. My legs feel like weights. My body's thrumming with adrenaline, but I feel like I'm skating through molasses.

I've barely looked up at Felicity. She can probably already tell something's not right, but I can't tell her. I trust her implicitly, but this is Zach's business to tell, and I've let him down way too many times already to risk his confidence, our friendship already hanging by a thread.

"Get out there, Morgan, and for fuck's sake, get it together."

I replace my mouthguard and jump the boards. "Got it, Coach."

The small Scorpions away crowd cheers as I take back to the ice. I pick up a loose puck from behind our net and begin an offensive move. It"s a rare turnover and I'm determined to make something of it. I sell their center with a fake pass and slip it to Jessie instead, who's flying down my right-hand side. He takes the puck and sinks it with a wrist shot. The buzzer goes and we've pulled something back. I look up to see Felicity going wild, pumping her fist in the air and a wry smile pulls at my lips.

Five minutes to go and we're playing better, but Schneider is out for blood. He's checked three of our players in this period alone and earned himself a penalty. He contests it with the ref, but he's having none of it. The small section of Scorpions fans cheer as he makes his way to his second home. It's then I see Zach skate past the penalty box, turn his head, tap the glass, and say something. Schneider is on his feet banging his stick and screaming, but Zach simply waves and smiles, only riling him up further. I've played with and against Schneider for years and he's a piece of work, but I've never seen him look like this. He's unhinged.

"Let's get this finished," Zach says to me as he skates past, getting in position for the restart of play.

It's three-two by the time Schneider returns to the ice. His eyes zeroed in on my best friend. The game has descended into chaos as the tension between them both has infiltrated the other players. There are only three minutes left on the clock, but barely any hockey is being played. The crowd feeds into the fighting frenzy, loving the brutality on display.

I chance a glance up at Felicity, who has her head down and buried in her hands. She can't watch, and I hate this for her. I hate myself for not taking Zach off the ice tonight, too.

The puck comes loose from a tussle against the boards and Jessie breaks with it. He's so quick there's no way I'll catch up to him, but he doesn't get far as he's checked by one of their defensemen who sends it back up for a counter.

His pass to Schneider is loose, and he narrowly misses it as it sails past him and toward Zach, who picks it up in the far corner.

And that's when it happens. Like it's in slow motion, unfolding right before me, and all I can do is stand and watch. Schneider sets his eyes on Zach as he gathers it under control and begins to turn, opening up his body to lay off a pass. The puck leaves Zach's stick, but Schneider isn't interested in the offensive. He's only got one form of attack on his mind.

He collides with his body just as I see Zach's helmet turn and register the onslaught, but it's too late. He wasn't prepared. Normally he'd be expecting a potential check but not tonight, not with the way he's been MIA in this match.

On impact, Zach's body snaps backward, his head the first to make contact with the boards, but it's not the crack of the splintering glass I hear. It's the kind of crack only bones can make, and I swear that's all I can hear even over the roaring crowd.It's the hardest hit I've ever seen in my career.

Zach lies crumpled on the ice, the force of the hit having sent his helmet flying from his head, his stick is lying several feet from his lifeless body.

Registering the seriousness of the situation, the crowd falls silent, but Schneider continues to rage on."Fuck you, Evans!" he spits, as his captain drags him away and the ref rushes to intervene when three of our players, Jensen included, begin beating down on Schneider.

A few beats pass and my instincts take over, my adrenaline finally surging me forward. I know I'm screaming, but I can't hear anything other than the ringing in my ears as it grows louder. I know my pads are soaking through as I kneel next to my best friend. I see the doctors rushing around him, checking his state of consciousness. I recognize that his right leg shouldn't be at that angle, and I register the blood beginning to pour from his face and over his jersey, staining his number sixty-six.

But all I can think at this moment is this is all my fault.

This is all on me, and I'll never forgive myself.