Chapter 16

SOPHIA

"You should have dinner with Liam, Soph, catch up. I'm sure he'd love to see you, even if you do work for the other team," Mason teased. Storm rubbed against my calves, his warm little body like a balm to the anxiety clawing at my insides.

"I'm sure we'll both be way too busy with obligations, and I don't want to," I swallowed, hating lying to my big brother about the real reason I didn't want to ‘catch up' with his best friend, "distract him. Especially since I work for the other guys. Who are going to kick his team's ass, by the way."

Mason snorted, and I laughed. The sound was so familiar, and made me miss him more than I admitted. But, between training, games, promotional events, it had become nearly impossible to see him or get home until the season was over.

A fact my mother reminded me of with every voice message she left.

Not only had I become fantastic at lying to myself and Max, avoiding everyone but Mason was quickly added to my shitty not adulting talents.

"First season luck."

"Ha! It's called talent. And our coach is pretty amazing, too," I added.

"I still can't believe Max ‘Iceman' Vaughn gets within ten feet of you and you control yourself."

"Teenage crushes do not belong in adult jobs, Mace," I said, tone light and hopefully with no trace of the fact that I in fact, did not control myself well.

At all.

"Well, at least send him a text pr something. He still asks about you, wants to make sure you're doing good."

Oh, I'm sure he does. And probably checks to make sure you don't know how he screwed over his baby sister and wanted to rip his head off. "I'm sure you fill him in on all the details of me working at the Venge."

"He's coming to Brett's birthday, so even if you don't get a chance to see each other, you can catch up then."

Well, fuck. Thank God it wouldn't be until the playoffs were over, but still.

The pit of my stomach sank when I thought about seeing him again.

I cleared my throat. "Hey, Mace, I have to go meet Jules and help with the foundation. Call you this weekend maybe?"

"Sure. Love you, sis."

"Love you, too."

I hung up and hugged. My knees to my chest as Storm butted his little head against my hand. And for the first time, didn't feel like crying over my broken heart.

"If you don't drink that," My hand flung of its own accord at the shot in front of Jules as she stared it down like it had decided Daisy and Storm were not the cutest things ever in the entire universe. "I will never spill all my secrets to you or share my leftovers after an away game again."

Jules gasped in mock indignation. "You wouldn't!"

The event had gone off without a hitch, and Jules and I needed to blow off a little steam before tomorrow's game. I cackled. "Oh, but I would. But just for a moment or two." I raised my glass as she lifted hers. "Cause I don't un-cockblock just anyone."

"To besties and their kitties!"

"The best pussies ever!" I agreed, as we licked, then shot back the tequila. My lips pursed as we sucked with loud and slightly obnoxious giggles.

Okay, beyond obnoxious. Which only made the fact that I hid my sleeping and getting railed to high heaven by her big brother and lying about it even worse.

Bestie friend fail. The pit in my stomach suddenly expanded to the size of the damn Pacific Ocean. Especially considering the text he sent me only minutes before.

MAX: I'll wait as long as it takes for you to understand there's nowhere else I'd rather be, Sunrise.

My phone burned a hole in my back pocket, daring me to deny the feelings boiling up in me. I'd snuck off into the bathroom, and sent off what I thought had been a lighthearted response.

SOPHIA: Don't go catching feels on me, Iceman.

MAX: Too fucking late.

"Before the big ‘T' hits, thank you for helping me with the family night tomorrow, and all the things. It really means so much, and I don't think it would all have come together without you."

Jules' eyes were big and teetered on the edge of all the emotional tequila tottering.

"You know I'd do anything for you," I said, nudging her with my shoulder as the music changed to a song I knew she loved. A few more seconds, and Jules would either hug me or scream sing the lyrics. I opted for the loud tequila-infused performance.

Jules headed up the Seattle Revenge Heroes Foundation, which had outreach and programs for families who lost loved ones while serving and or had loved ones that were far from home. Jules and Max lost their dad, who was a Marine, and while she said she barely remembered him, Max had been older when he died. Which was part of the reason Max was so overprotective of Jules and maybe why he was Coach Grumpy Pants.

When he became the Revenge head coach, Max had a few requests. The foundation and Jules working there, and I imagined a TV in his office where he could stream his favorite Netflix shows and an endless supply of Twizzlers.

And Sharpies, I thought as I shifted on the high stool. Did part of me love helping Jules because I thought maybe Max would be…touched? Or so appreciative that he'd write ‘thank you' somewhere on my body. And give me an amazing orgasm or five.

Instead, I danced and sang with my best friend and swallowed the guilt I felt. Hopefully, the worst thing that would happen tonight would be my offkey singing and not my best friend finding out my secret.

And hating me after she found out.

Sweaty and exhausted, maybe dreaming of my bed a few hours later, Jules and I walked up the stairs to our apartments. Foot on the last step before we reached the hallway, she turned to me. "Soph, I am so glad this place wasn't ready and I had to live next door to you. And then you were relentless and friendly and that you helped me not be cockblocked anymore."

I rolled my eyes, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I told you, anything for my girl and a big dick. I mean, not for me unless we're sharing details after tequila."

"I wish," she yawned, "that your hot one-night stand would show up again so you could get more of that big dick."

"Maybe one day." My voice was weak, overrun with guilt. "But," I cleared my throat, "For tonight, I'll go find my one-handed every nighter vibrator, and you," she giggled, "can bang your big ol hockey hunk while I pretend not to hear you and worry about poor Daisykins mental health if she catches you two doing unspeakable things."

The bright light from my phone lit up the room, my thumb scrolling reels of Max on the ice. Defending the Pens goal, checking players, getting an empty net goal. Practice where he stretched on the ice. That one I definitely saved to my favorites and watched more often than I cared to admit.

But they weren't the Max I knew.

The player on the screen was my fantasy, but Max Vaughn? He was real, and grumpy, and a pain in the ass, and sexy. Sweet. My eyes strayed to the bag he left behind when I made him climb out my window yesterday. To the key I found in the outside pocket.

I couldn't face Max, and I knew he would be at practice today and at morning skate, so I had someone take care of a few last minute details while I hid by helping Jules at the rally with the families the foundation were hosting for the first game in the next round.

In the middle of the night with no one to distract me or to believe the lies I told myself about not caring for Max Vaughn, I couldn't hide from it anymore.

Too fucking late.

I threw back the covers, Storm squeaking in protest, and sat down on the floor in front of his bag. And unzipped the main pocket.

Socks, a lightweight windbreaker, a few pens, deodorant, track pants. At the bottom, my hands brushed up against what felt like a bag of some sort. I pulled out the black, bag and slowly unzipped it, too.

Inside, was my missing journal.

And another small notebook, the kind my brother Noah loved for taking notes when he was at the rink. The stinker kept pages of stats alongside phone numbers of girls.

But what Max wrote in the pages of his was even close.

"Cherries on snow

Notebook/Joy clickable pens

Dragonfly keychain"

The list went on and on, two pages filled with…me.

"Hari's (favorite takeout)

Fire chicken (favorite order)

Fuzzy Blanket'

My hand trembled as I set the notebook down, and picked up the journal I thought I'd lost. The same one I thought my mom had sent in the care package when I moved in not long ago.

All the things in the care package were on Max's list.

And he had my favorite journal. The one I wrote all my fears, and dreams, and page after page of poetry.

My deepest thoughts.

He had it. All this time.

And never said a word, or returned it.

He kept it all this time. Carried it around, and read my innermost thoughts, My secrets. My fears.

Then sent you a box filled with your favorite things, ordered your favorite take out, a voice whispered.

And lied, I returned.

Did he though? How could he return your journal if he didn't know who you were? Then what? Just drop it on your desk with a note saying "hey, you dropped this when you ran away after we had mind blowing sex, thought you'd like it back?"

Storm pawed at the journal, then looked up at me with a mew, as if agreeing.

"I didn't run away. And we had rules. No names, or feelings or…anything."

Jules' key, my journal, all the notes.

Max Vaughn knew all my secrets. Not just the ones in my journal, but the ones I told him because I trusted him. With more than just my secrets. With my body.

It was just too much.

And my heart refused to be broken again by anyone who used me.

Ever again.