Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

GRACE

I need to tell both my father and Otto about one another.

I'm just not sure how.

Each day that passes, it becomes harder and harder to do. Then there's the fact that I keep getting text messages from Hayze. I know they're from him, and even though his number has been blocked, I know he's figured out another way to contact me.

This unknown number is him.

I'm not sure what he wants from me. It's not as if we had a great love affair or anything. He used me to pass a class, and then he used my body for gratification.

I hate him.

Everything about him.

I don't think I've ever felt this angry with anyone before.

I also want to tell Otto about the calls, but I don't want him to get angry and do anything that could jeopardize his position. His place on the team is his life. He's worked harder for it than he has for anything else—probably harder than anyone I know has worked for something.

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I walk into the back of the salon to start a load of laundry. The number of towels they go through in this place is, without a doubt, insane. I don't mind laundering them, though.

It gives me time to myself to think—to daydream.

Reaching into my pocket, I look at the phone and clear my throat. It's my father. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, then suck in a deep breath knowing this is it. I'm going to have to tell him.

COACH BURNS: LUNCH TOMORROW. I HAVE YOUR TICKETS TO THE FIRST GAME.

Of course, the lunch is about hockey. What else would it be about? Because hockey is my father's life. It's his first love… his only love, really. Everything else comes secondary to the game. I've come to terms with that, but I don't think he's going to appreciate me dating one of his men.

Sure. When and where?

I quickly type the words, unsure of how I'm going to face him tomorrow. This feels bigger than me being expelled. I know it probably isn't, but at the same time, it consumes me more than school ever did.

Otto consumes me.

Wholly.

My father texts me the time and place. Thankfully, it's during my lunch hour here, and where he wants to go is close by, within walking distance. I don't know if he did that on purpose since he knows where I work, but I'm glad.

I'll be there.

After I start the washing machine, I turn away and walk back into the salon. I need to get back to work. I need to try and focus on the task at hand. Cleaning, answering phones, all of it. But I can't concentrate on anything.

My focus is only on lunch tomorrow and what I'm going to tell my father, but also what he's going to say to me. I don't think he would forbid me to date any of his players, but I can't imagine he would be happy about it, either.

Then I think about the fact that I'm going to have to tell Otto, too. Sooner rather than later. Once my father knows, there's no way I can let Otto find out from him. This whole thing is a complete cluster, and I wish I could walk away from Otto just to make it easier on myself.

But I can't.

There is no way I can make it even a day without him.

I'm falling in love with him…

OTTO

Leaving the arena, I hitch the strap of my bag over my shoulder and head toward my car. It's the last one in the lot. I hate being last, but work calls. Making my way toward the car, I use the remote to open the trunk.

I toss my bag in the back, then dig my phone out of my pocket before I sink down in my seat. Finding her name on the screen, I touch it to call her. It rings exactly three times before I hear her voice on the other end.

"Hey," she exhales.

The moment Grace's soft voice reaches my ears, I swear my entire body relaxes. Just hearing her voice does something to me. It consumes me and relaxes me all at the same time. Starting the engine of my car, I look down at my lap, trying and failing to hide my smile.

"You want to go to dinner, or do you want me to bring dinner to you?"

She's silent for a moment before she clears her throat, and for some reason, it sounds like she's hesitating. I don't know why she would be. Anxiety creeps up, threatening to strangle me at the thought of her leaving me.

"Let's go to dinner," she says. "I want to talk to you."

And I feel like the biggest pussy in the world, but my heart stops. What the actual fuck? What did I do wrong? I open my mouth to ask her but decide against it. Instead, I inhale a deep breath and hold it for a moment before I let it out.

"I'll be there in half an hour," I clip.

My anger, as a defense mechanism, is on the tip of my tongue and in my tone. She won't break up with me first. I fucking refuse. It'll be me who ends things, and I will make sure that I come out on top—always.

Heading home, I don't speak to anyone as I climb the stairs and make my way to the shower. The water starts, the steam filling the space, and I close my eyes as I inhale and exhale deeply.

I don't want to lose her, and I'm not going to go down without a fight, but I'm also not going to look like a fucking fool, either. I feel sick to my stomach as the minutes tick by, and I know it's time to go and get her.

I wish this were a game. I know how to handle that. In my uniform, in my gear with my stick in hand, I know what to do and how to do it. In a pair of jeans, with a goddamn polo shirt on, I have not a single fucking clue.

Dressed, hair combed, and not at all ready to face whatever the fuck is going to come my way, I walk across the street to the girls' house. I ball my hand in a fist and get ready to knock when the door flies open.

My eyes widen at the sight of her standing in front of me. She's wearing a short white dress that's tight against her perfect tits, has thin straps, and flows out and stops around midthigh. On her feet, she's wearing a pair of flat sandals. She looks cute as fuck, her hair in a high ponytail and minimal makeup on her face.

She looks better than she did when I took her out the first time in the sexy dress. This is Grace. Fucking adorable in every way imaginable. Reaching out, I hold my palm out, and I know that I won't be able to break up with her, and I won't allow her to do the same—my pride be damned.

"Ready?" I ask.

She nods her head, her tongue sliding across her bottom lip. She places her fingers in mine. Gripping her gently, I take a step backward. I don't have to pull or tug her at all. She comes easily, following behind me as I walk toward my car.

I don't know what is going to happen tonight. It doesn't feel good, but I'm going to ensure that it ends well. Because there is nobody for me but her. There is no more falling for her because I've already fallen.

Pulling into the restaurant's parking lot, I shift the car into Park and look over to Grace. She isn't looking at me, but instead, she has her head tipped as she stares at her hands that are twisting in her lap.

"Do you want to tell me what this is about before we go inside?" I ask.

I'm dying to know what she is going to talk to me about, and if it involves ending things, I have to figure out how to prevent that. I don't think I can sit through dinner without knowing what is on her mind.

She presses her lips together, her gaze focused on mine as she shakes her head from side to side slowly. "Grace," I warn. "I can't sit through dinner thinking the worst. Just tell me, honey."

Her lips curve up into a smile. "I'm not sure if it's the worst. It feels like it for me, but only because I swore I would never allow it, yet here it is. Right in front of me, and I don't think I'm sorry for it, either."

"Tell me, Grace, before I go insane."

She stares at me for a long moment, then clears her throat. "I didn't want you to find out from anyone else," she murmurs. "I told the girls the other day, but I blurted it out and didn't mean to."

She's rambling, obviously nervous, which I find both frustrating and cute as fuck at the same time. I open my mouth to say her name again, to warn her, but thankfully, she continues to ramble, and this time, she gets to the point, which sends me goddamn reeling.

"Coach Burns is my father."

Fuck.