36. Cassidy

I forgothow much I love this.

The smell of freshly carved ice and popcorn fills the air and I inhale until my lungs are full.

I"ve kept my distance from watching the Anchors live in their arena ever since Roman screwed me over.

I"ve been hesitant to come back because this was something sacred from my childhood, something I shared with my father. Once he died, I wasn"t sure I"d ever step foot back in this place again. Then Roman walked into my bar one night and the rest is history.

Say what you want about the guy, but he can be persuasive at the best of times and downright manipulative at the worst.

I went to my fair share of Anchors games last season. I embraced that whole WAG lifestyle, or at least I tried to as much as they would let me.

It sort of felt like being the new kid in the middle of the year in high school. You walk into the cafeteria and all you see is a sea of cliques who are already well established, and you just don"t know where you fit in.

That was me last year as Roman"s shiny new girlfriend.

When Hayden mentioned me coming to his game tonight, sure I thought about the environment, the energy of the crowd, getting to see him on the ice, but really, I didn"t want to come because I was dreading running into the wives and girlfriends.

Sawyer shoves an enormous tub of popcorn into my arms and snaps me out of my thoughts. He"s got his arms loaded with all sorts of junk and I look at him dubiously. "I can"t believe you eat this crap and still look like that."

He laughs, ripping open a pack of licorice and shoving one into his mouth. It's not even the red ones. It's the disgusting black kind. "That"s why I spend so much time in the gym so I can eat whatever the hell I want on game days." His voice comes out garbled around the half-chewed food inside, and I wrinkle my nose at him as he pats his abs.

"I thought it was so you could fuck anyone and everyone."

"That, too." He gives me a flirty grin, and I shove a piece of his gross licorice up his nose. He chokes and sneezes and spills some of his popcorn on the floor, promising retaliation.

Eventually, we make our way to our seats. I try to keep my head down as we walk toward the glass because you never know where the WAGs might be or if they"ll pop up like one of those jump scare videos to give me a heart attack.

We"re sitting to the left of the penalty box and I have a pretty good view of the Anchors bench, which means I"ll get to thirst over Hayden for the entire game. Honestly? Can"t wait.

Sawyer and I sink into the seats, and, yep, we bought too much food. There"s really nowhere to keep it. These seats are close together and there"s only so much space. I"m just about to tell Sawyer that he better get eating and do it fast because I don"t want to have to manage his snacks while trying to pay attention to the game when the Anchors skate onto the ice.

Hayden"s the one who set up our seats, so his gaze locks onto me almost immediately. The look in his eyes, under his visor, is so intense I melt into the seat a little. He was right. Seeing him live in person in his element is a whole new level of hot.

Sawyer must have fished an ice cube out of his soda because my attention is ripped away from Hayden by the icy wetness he"s just put down the back of my shirt. I squeal as the frozen block slides down the back of my neck and into the jersey that I"m wearing. I jump up and try to shake it out, cussing out Sawyer the whole time.

My boyfriend"s brother is laughing his ass off, but someone bangs into the glass in front of us and I jump because it"s so loud. I turn back to look at Hayden, standing on the other side. His face is thunderous as he stares at my chest. I bite my cheek to keep from grinning, wishing I could shove some of that popcorn in my mouth, too, while I watch the fireworks as Hayden realizes I'm wearing Roman's jersey.

"You think I pissed him off enough to break through the glass?"

Sawyer eyes me with a new appreciation. "You did this on purpose?" Then he chuckles while he looks back and forth between a fuming Hayden and me.

"What?" I shrug, eyeing Hayden, whose jaw is clenched so tight, I bet his teeth hurt. "Don't act like you don't love a little chaos, too. And honestly, the sex is so hot when he's angry, I'm sort of addicted to pissing him off." Shit, I regret my words immediately, turning back to Sawyer. "Do not tell him I said that."

"No promises," Sawyer somehow manages to get out around a mouthful of snacks. I turn back to my boyfriend, who's glaring at me with eyes so dark they"re practically black. He takes off his glove and crooks his finger for me to come closer to the glass. I lick my lips and ignore the tingles spreading through my body.

I move before I even have time to think about it, stepping down the couple of stairs to get to the glass.

Hayden mouths something at me, but I can"t quite make out what he"s trying to say. So I yell, "What?"

He points at my jersey, and he says, "Take it the fuck off."

No mistaking it this time.

I shake my head because I have nothing else to wear. And the tank top that I"ve got on underneath is not even close to warm enough for this arena. Plus, the more I resist, the angrier he'll get. It's like my body's programmed to respond in the horniest way possible to his irritation, and I press my thighs together.

"Now," he repeats.

"I don"t have anything else to wear," I yell because I know that he probably can"t hear me very well. But he must understand what I say because he immediately drops his other glove onto the ice, unclasps his helmet and drops it, too, and then reaches for the hem of his warm-up jersey. He strips it off, tossing it over the glass at me.

I catch it and gotta be honest, it"s damp and smells like sweat and a hint of Hayden's cologne. Not exactly something I want to put on my body, but now people are starting to pay attention to us. I may have wanted his attention, but I don't want everyone else's.

"Your turn," he mouths at me. His coach and his teammates are taking notice of him not doing the warm-ups he should be, and I can feel my cheeks heat.

Instead of fighting with him anymore, I just say fuck it and I strip it off. I've had my fun, and now, when the game's over, I'm sure he'll get his payback. I shiver, and it's not from the cold. He gestures for me to throw it over the glass to him. I do, hurriedly putting on the jersey that he threw at me and trying to ignore that it sticks to my skin.

When he looks back at me, the darkness in his face lightens a shade when he sees me in his jersey, the caveman, and he blows me a kiss before he skates off toward the bench with my Morozov jersey clutched in his fist. He didn"t even pick up his gloves or helmet from the ice.

"I think I might love you," Sawyer says, making heart eyes at me as he sips his beer.

I smirk. "I dare you to say that to your brother."

He just laughs and holds out his bottle so I can clink my soda with his beer, and I do. "Hayden's got his hands full with you."

"Maybe it's me who has my hands full with him." Goosebumps ripple down my arms, and this time, it's not from sexual tension. "Hey, do you think there's enough time before the game starts for me to hit the shop? I don"t want to wear this sweaty thing for the whole game. It's disgusting."

"Uh," he glances up at the jumbo screen hanging over the ice. "No, but we can go during the first intermission and get you one that"s not soaked in Hayden"s sweat."

The sound of collective gasps echoes through the arena as Hayden"s fist connects with Roman"s face, sending him sprawling onto the ice. His teammates rush forward to break it up, but it takes two guys to hold Hayden back while he yells something at Roman that I can"t quite make out.

"Holy shit," Sawyer says next to me, his mouth full of popcorn again. How much was in that bucket? "That was fucking epic."

Roman gets to his feet, his nose bloody and a cut on his cheek, but he looks more pissed than anything else. He lunges for Hayden again, but a few of their teammates pull him away. Hayden"s coach is on the ice barking orders and Hayden disappears into the locker room.

"I should"ve known you"d be the cause of a scene like that."

My spine goes straight and my whole body tenses like I"m bracing for battle. Sawyer abandons his popcorn to toss his arm over my shoulder before turning his head to look back at Tatiana Petrovich, wife of the Anchors" fourth line center, Kyle.

Also known as the head bitch in charge of the WAGs.

And the last person I ever wanted to see again.