Chapter 8

SOPHIA

Holy. Fuck.

If the sight of Max Vaughn from my knees caused my body to ache for him, it was nothing compared to watching him write that word on my inner thigh before his lips sealed into my skin. Even when the ink faded, this memory, this moment, would stay emblazoned in my memory for the rest of my life and into the damn after-life.

Mine.

The bold swoop of each letter marking my body as his. He might as well have branded me, because it burned into my skin. He stood and left me without a word. Not able to move or process what the hell had just happened enough for my psyche to deny everything he said.

Had I lied? Hell yes. There was no other choice. My heart broke from betrayal and things that were never true but repeated over and over hurt more than anything in my life. Because I believed every word, every half truth…every false touch right up until the end. When my life imploded, sending my heart and soul into an abyss so deep that I ended up leaving my family and everything I'd ever known.

My family. Friends.

And him.

My brother's best friend, and the one person I thought I could trust in this world. In the end, I was just another girl he strung along with beautiful words, false promises, and hopeless fantasies. A fool with a broken heart. Instead of facing him again, and telling my big brother what had happened, I took an interview in Seattle. And had the hottest night of my entire life, hoping it would erase any trace of heartbreak.

It did, but only after replacing it with a man seared into my memory, as if he had been there all along. Not only that, but I couldn't even tell my best friend, because he's her older brother. I hated keeping anything from Jules, and even if we had only become friends in the last six months. The sister I never had, and the friend I knew would never betray me.

And I lied to her. If not in words, then by omission. I may have told her about my fantastically amazing night of sex, buzzed over a couple of drinks a few months ago. No names, because I told her we decided on no names and only how much I wished it could happen again.

Jules, hopeless, goofy and adorable romantic she was, got all googly-eyed and assured me in her nearly passed out state that Cupid would never let my heart stay broken because I had helped keep her big brother from ‘cockblocking' her.

The irony.

I let out a sigh, and righted my dress. Cheeks warm and heated, I checked my reflection in the mirror, steeled myself to face him, and yanked open the damn bathroom door. Chin high, shoulders back, I stalked back into the living area.

Without Max.

"I swear, my brother can barely stand to stay in the same room with Kas unless it's a locker room," Jules grumbled as she dumped a few empty containers in the trash. "Leftovers, just for you. There's plenty in the fridge if you want more, because Max decided he was too cool to take any with him."

Bullshit, I thought. It was just another thing he tried to do to see if he could get under my skin. Not taking the bait, Maxwell Vaughn. Leftovers from my favorite Indian restaurant will not make me change my mind.

Oh, the lies we told ourselves in the light of day that hold no weight when the lights go out, and we're all alone. Dreaming. Wishing. Wanting.

Mine.

The silence surrounded me, a reminder of how alone I was. My sigh sounded pitiful even to my ears as I rolled over and eyed the journal on my bedside stand. Sleep decided to stay as far from my racing mind as it possibly could, thoughts tripping over and over as it replayed all the moments from the evening.

I gave in and grabbed the journal and one of my favorite pens, both from the care package I received when I moved in, and started to write. I denied any of it had to do with Max Vaughn and his stupid, sexy Sharpie.

Lost

Trusting in my love for you broke me

Tore into my heart, breathless and shattered

The harsh rope of lust bound my senses,

Denying the light and truth you stole

Blind and wanting in the dark

Also promises and twisted vows

Tears you never owned stolen from my soul

Secrets never spoken, yet you knew

To take what you wanted

And leave my scattered fears and drowning pieces in the shadows.

Foresaken.

Lost.

Alone.

e.liza

It's funny how the littlest things whittled away at my firm, yet weakening resistance. The lies and steadfastly fading rules I set from the first time his hands touched my body.

No matter how hard I fought the attraction.

My keys magically appeared on my desk the next day, with a note from one of the team trainers.

"Found these by the coffee, after you left, this morning, and Coach Vaughn said they were yours…"

Coincidence or providence?

More like Max Vaughn. Stay up, walls, and remember the promise we made. No feels.

Jules stopped by after work, and made me take the leftovers. "Max refused." She shook her head in disbelief. "The pain in the ass insisted on Indian, then refused to take any of the leftovers. I swear, if he could live on hard-boiled eggs and oatmeal, he would."

Like some lovelorn fool, I fished out my favorite fuzzy blanket, streamed Top Gun: Maverick and ate way too much fire chicken and naan.

If my ass grew, just blame it on Coach Grumpy Pants.

Yep, I refused to call him by that other name. The tingles produced by it were unnerving, unnecessary, and unwanted.

The one that reminded me of our first night. And how he controlled every inch of the ice when he played.

Iceman.

Lies, that damn voice whispered.

I excelled at them more and more, every single day that passed.

Like when we passed in the hall and his hand brushed my mine for briefest of seconds. Nope, not affected. At all. That bottle of water I chugged like I spent the day in the Sahara desert searching for an oasis?

Dehydrated.

Not overheated from the warmth of his damn skin touching mine. The cinnamon gum I bought only because they were out of spearmint by the checkout, and not because it tasted like his kiss.

And I definitely hadn't ignored where he wrote on my skin when I showered. Just didn't want to risk hives from scrubbing too hard.

Lies.

"Hey, Sophia."

The gravelly yet sweet in a manly way voice of Jacob Hale interrupted my not-list of ways Max Vaughn messed with my life over the past week and a half. My smile impossible to hold back, I turned to face the Revenge goalie, and ignored the voice in my head comparing the two men.

Traitorous inner voice. It liked Max.

My lies liked Jacob. "Hey yourself. Ran out of the shower, huh?"

"Coach's been on a tear. Figured I'd make myself scarce before he came up with a new way to torture us." He shrugged and ran his hand through his still damp red hair.

Or was it strawberry blond? Did men call that shade that? Or was it not manly enough?

"Maybe he needs a vacation, or something." I teased. The ease of conversation allowed the little voice who kept reminding me of all the reasons why I had to stay away from Max whispered, he's sweet, safe, and won't break your heart.

Yeah, but what if I break his?

"Definitely something." He glanced behind him, almost as if he expected Max to pop up and demand another round of sprints or something just as strenuous. "I have an extra ticket for the fundraiser this weekend. I know it's last minute, but I'd love to-"

Just as Jacob opened his mouth, Max turned the corner with a warning glare in our direction. I ignored him, and smiled. "I'd love to go with you."

Relief washed over his face. "Perfect. I'll pick you up at your place around seven?"

I nodded, refusing to meet the volcanic stare boring into my body as one of the staff walked up to Max and tried to get his attention. Moments passed before he finally looked at the iPad the poor soul held up to him, and as they walked away, I couldn't help but wonder what Max would write on my body the next time.

The rest of the week flew by. The Revenge's chance at a playoff berth loomed within reach. The energy in the training facility and at the last three games was palpable. The first year of a franchise was unpredictable at best, miserable at worst. But with the addition of Oliver Sutton on Kas' line, the team gained momentum when the rookie Oliver Sutton hit the ice for the first time and didn't show any signs of slowing down.

Jules and I traveled to the game the night before, cheering in the seats near the glass as the Revenge shut out the home team. When I showed up in my Hale jersey, Jules' eyes widened.

"Wait, what is going on? Are you dati-"

"A girl can support any member of the team." I shrugged. "It just so happens that I wore Kas and Sunders' jerseys a few weeks ago, and wanted to spread the love." Jules' glare told me she didn't believe a word I said, but since she didn't know about my one night with her big brother, she just huffed out a fine and went back to watching the game.

But when I caught the deadly calm glare Max shot me when he noticed my attire, I just waggled my fingers in a sweet little wave. And prayed I could avoid seeing him for at least the next day or so.

Fate, however, had other plans.

The first period ended disastrously, with the Revenge behind by two goals. And by disastrously, I meant that Kas and his new line member weren't gelling like they had during practice. Oliver Sutton seemed caught in between the speed of the game and the caliber of talent he now played with, eyes darting everywhere on the ice, unfocused. Kas seemed unfazed, but the vein on Max's forehead looked like it would leap off and attack the poor rookie at any given moment.

Unlike the rest of the crowd, I knew that a first period bout of nerves didn't necessarily spell out disaster. But, if the youngest player on the team didn't settle in, it would be a long playoff run.

During the break, Jules and I grabbed a few drinks, and Jules being Jules, downed hers in a nervous rush before I even had a second sip. I handed her a water with a knowing grin. "So not carrying you out of here tonight, no matter how much I love you."

Corey Alexander, a member of the Revenge scouting team and former USA Women's Hockey winger, came up beside us just as the second period started, and asked, "Can I join you? The suite always makes me feel like I don't belong, and the view of the ice is better down here."

I squared my shoulders and grinned, enticing the huge tray of soft pretzels with cheese and marinara. "If you share, I'll even braid your hair later or be your wingman," I teased, gesturing for her as she sat down next to us with a smile.

"I somehow knew if I brought a peace offering, it would help. And all the food in the suite looked way too fancy for a hockey game. I think the other team's staff was trying to psych us out, until Gentry made sure to let us all know he bought out this entire section for anyone who wanted to get a little louder," she smirked.

"Soft pretzels are the way to my heart when I'm carb eating my feelings," Jules moaned before stuffing three bites into her mouth at once as the whistle blew and the actions started all over again.

Kas took to the ice with his line, and Jacob hit each side of the goal three times before settling into his crouch, eyes darting back and forth as the Revenge won the face off. The energy felt different than the first twenty minutes of play, and within minutes, Oliver looked like he had been on Kas' line since the beginning of the season. I glanced over at Corey as she pumped her fist.

"Got skin in the game?" I asked, not bothering to toe the line between management and the rest of us. After working with my brothers and the team up north, I was well aware of the line most organizations drew between upper management and the rest of the staff.

Her face turned a light shade of pink, determination in her bright blue eyes. A wry smile twisted her lips. "I'm the one who suggested bringing up Oliver Sutton when Sunders had to be pulled for the rest of the season. Let's just say even with all the changes to ‘management'," her fingers air quoted the word, "not every man in the room thought the advice of a girl should be considered. Res Gentry was in the room that day, however, along with Frederickson, and they saw the same potential I did. And when Coach Vaughn had him run a few practices with Holken," she nodded toward the ice, "he noticed, too. They're a perfect fit. As long as the nerves stayed away. Guess that locker room talk helped. And bringing in the sports psychologist Kellan Horne suggested."

I knew from experience how Max could convince anyone they were more than they thought they were. Build them up. In my case, he made me trust he would never push me if he thought I couldn't handle it. And Lena Rossetti's reputation for helping athletes overcome obstacles and set systems to deal with the pressures of playing at the highest level was unrivaled.

Gotta love girl power.

Guess his skills went far beyond his prowess in the bedroom. Or up against a wall.

When the buzzer signaled the end of the second quarter, both Kas and Oliver scored twice. Each with an assist, but now, they were nearing the possibility of a double hat trick.

Which means my girl was this close to getting laid tonight.

Revenge 4, Boston 2. And Hale looked like he was ready to murder anyone else who came near the box. For the rest of the period, nothing got past him or the defensive line. Marc LeCavalier (no relation, though we shared the same last name) and Kane Michaelson were on fire.

The last few minutes of play, Kas and Oliver cheered with the rest of the team as the seconds ticked down.

When intermission finally arrived, Corey stood with a grin."Thank you for reminding me how much I love being this close to the ice again."

I cocked a brow. "Don't you go to games for-'' I gestured to the ice, hands wagging wildly, "I don't know, scouting?"

"I do, but usually I'm so focused on watching the player I'm scouting that I miss the actual game. And the view from the suite isn't-"

"Fun," I finished with a laugh. She nodded.

"Exactly!" We said our goodbyes, and Corey headed back up the stairs, minus the pretzels.

"Isn't she the one who was married to the St. Louis coach?" Jules asked with a glance at the other bench as the teams filed back out onto the ice a few minutes later.

"Maybe?" I shrugged, too distracted by Max, once again glaring at me. My mouth went dry, and I just knew I was in for it later if he caught up with me.

Or, should I say when.

And why was the thought making me all tingly and ready for whatever punishment he felt like dealing out?

"I swear, I remember something about her being married to the coach from the women's team when she blew out her knee. I think they got a divorce last year." She nudged my knee. "Earth to Sophia."

Max delivered one more warning glare to which I silently wiped away an imaginary smudge of mascara. With my middle finger. His eyes darkened, and for a brief second I wondered if I went too far. Then a smile spread across his lips. Not the happy kind, but the kind that said he knew exactly how he was going to remind me of a few things once he cornered me.

Shit. And now my panties were soaked. No way I would let him know he affected me, though, so I deliberately turned toward Hale, who lifted his mask and grinned when I waved.

I was dead once Max got his hands on me. But it was worth it.

Jules, however, missed the entire exchange, playing on her phone with a silly expression on her face.

"Let me guess? You're planning out Kas' hat trick celebration, right?" I asked with a saucy grin. After being chief un-cockblock extradonaire for my bestie the past few months, I took great pride in the fact that she got all the damn cock she desired now.

Max Vaughn and his overprotective shit be damned.

"Oh, yes I am," she giggled, eyes lighting up. "Let's just say I reminded Kas last intermission what I'm wearing, or not wearing, under his jersey."

I rolled my eyes, suddenly glad we were staying overnight in the same hotel if that meant Kas had his fourth, or was it fifth, hat trick of the season. Arms crossed, I let out a sigh. "Too bad that rookie doesn't have a hat trick pact. Imagine two in one game."

She laughed, though it sounded hollow. Maybe my imagination needed a break. "I'm sure some poor puck bunny will try to congratulate him But, he's rooming with Hale. You know, the guy whose jersey you're wearing?"

Like she thought I planned on sneaking up to his room later. Or something. Little did she know that the goalie wasn't the one I was having wicked thoughts about showing up at my hotel door after the game.

Shoulders squared, I retorted, "Jersey wearing is not a form of ownership, Jules, nor does it indicate anything beyond an admiration for his…butterfly skills," I added with a wicked grin.

She opened her mouth to respond, when suddenly, the crowd in our section went wild as Sutton stole the puck on a fast breakaway, with only two defenders at the midline who struggled to keep up with him as he sped toward the opposing team's goal. Lightning quick, he flicked his wrist and sent a speeding donut directly over the goalie's shoulder.

Fucking hat trick. The arena went wild. Even the home team's fans went crazy, and it took a few minutes for the ice crew to clear off all the hats tossed in celebration on the entire ice rink.

5-3.

The rest of the game flew by in a frenetic and furious pace, and with only seconds to go, the other team pulled their goalie, leaving an empty net goal opportunity for Kas. Which gave the Revenge a double hat trick, and the series lead.

That's when fate decided running back to the safety of our room wasn't in the cards for me.

Jules stood, determination written all over her face, and I knew she was about to break her cardinal rule of avoiding the locker room at all costs.

"Let's go," she said, eyes bright and face flushed with excitement.

"Hotel, here we come!"

Hair flicked back and forth, her high ponytail swinging. "No, not the hotel. ‘Locker room'."

"But, I thought you didn't do ‘locker room'?"

"For this? I'm doing locker room."

There went my hide under the covers plan, right out the damn hat trick sex reward window.

I was so screwed.