Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Knox

I frown when Ivy doesn’t come back.

I’ve been watching her all night, trying not, knowing it’s stupid to be memorizing every beautiful part of her—the hot as fuck outfit, those spiked heels, the sparkling jewelry, the makeup that’s heavier than normal. The way she eats with abandon by carefully sips one glass of champagne. The softness in her face as she watches out for Evie as she plays, the gratitude in her eyes when Ella does her hair magic.

I’m fucking obsessed.

I’m tired of fighting it.

And…Lake’s right. I didn’t do enough, didn’t say enough, didn’t make my feelings clear.

I need her to know everything. I need to show her how I feel.

If after that she decides?—

My lungs tighten.

Then tighten further when I realize…she still hasn’t come back from the hall.

It’s probably nothing.

Only…my fucking spidey senses are tingling

She’s been gone far too long now to just be using the bathroom. Unless she’s not feeling well. Or she slipped in those sky high heels and hurt herself. Or?—

Laughter echoes from the circle of people surrounding me, everyone enjoying some punchline I was too busy worrying to actually listen to.

“And then,” Leo says, drawing Jolie into his side, “I told her she can either shape up or ship out?—”

Jolie swats him on the chest. “You did not!” Her eyes lift from his, locking on each of ours in turn. “Because otherwise he’d be the one being shipped out.”

The circle laughs and I take that moment to slip away. “Getting a drink,” I lie when Ella’s gaze comes to mine.

She opens her mouth, closes it, then nods and leans heavier into Riggs’s side.

I’ll take it.

I go to one of the tables, snagging a beer for appearances sake, but instead of going back to my friends, I make a slow circuit of the room, seeing if I somehow missed Ivy coming back in.

Not likely considering how closely I’ve tracked her…

But there are multiple entrances and exits.

It’s possible.

Except, when I make that circle, when I study every shadowy corner and alcove…she’s not anywhere in the room.

And the longer she’s out of sight, the more my spidey senses tingle and the tighter the knot that’s my insides grows.

“Fuck,” I mutter quietly as I step out into the hall.

I check the women’s bathroom, poking my head in, heart sinking when it’s empty, then stop by the men’s, just for good measure, but aside from one of my teammate’s taking a piss, that’s empty too.

I push out through the door, look left and right down the hallway, and I’m just about to head back into the main room when I hear a noise.

A grunt? Or a sharp exhale?

“What the fuck?” I whisper, alarm bells blaring. I cock my head and strain to listen.

And that’s when I hear it again, sharper this time.

Not a grunt.

It’s a cry—of pain, of fear, of…

Fuck it. It doesn’t matter what the noise is. I just know it’s bad, so I take off running, sprinting for the end of the hall and when I turn the corner and the shadows materialize into…. people …I pause.

And then I see red.

No, it’s far past red.

It’s Ivy, pinned against the wall by…

“Coach?” I whisper incredulously at the same time she shoves him back.

“No!” she cries out, and one look at her face tells me that whatever the fuck has been happening isn’t welcome.

I react before I really process moving, grabbing the back of Coach’s suit jacket and ripping him away from her. He stutters out a breath and fuck, but he smells like a distillery—swear to God I’m getting drunk contact just by inhaling.

“Yes,” Coach mutters, barely processing that I’m dragging him back, that I’m tossing him back, all but throwing him against the opposite wall.

He hits with a thunk that probably isn’t good, but I don’t give a fuck about him right now.

Not when Ivy is looking…

Like that.

“Lioness,” I say softly.

She jerks, wild, terrified eyes coming to mine. “I didn’t— He—” She’s trembling, palms pressed into the wall, nails scrabbling against the surface, as though trying, and unable, to find purchase. “I didn’t want?—”

“I know,” I tell her. “I know.”

I hear movement behind me, but when I whip around, prepared to punch the fuck out of the man who, quite literally, holds my career in his hands, it’s to find the drunk fucker sliding to the floor, as though his legs can’t hold him up any longer.

I’ve heard that Coach can tie one on with the best of them, I’ve even seen him buzzed a handful of times?—

But this?

No. No fucking way.

I want to plow my fist into his drunk face, to do it again and again until he’s reduced to bloody pulp.

But Ivy is more important.

“Are you hurt?” I ask quietly.

She jerks and, fuck, I want to pull her against me, want to hold her close, but she’s not ready for that. “No,” she whispers, palms pushing off the wall. She crosses her arms over her chest, as though holding herself together. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Except, I can see fingerprints on her arms…

On her fucking throat.

I’m going to kill him.

“Ivy, baby,” I say carefully. “I’m going to touch you.” I need to make sure she’s not hurt anywhere else, that she’s not concussed.

She shakes her head, hard just once. “No,” she says. “I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”

That’s totally bullshit.

“Give me your hand, lioness,” I murmur. “Please?”

Her throat works and I think she’s going to refuse. But after a long moment, she drops her hand into mine.

Carefully, slowly I draw her into my arms, gently prodding at her skull. When I find it free of bumps, I bring her closer, hating that she’s trembling, hating more when her words come fast and furious and filled with terror.

“I-it’s not a big deal,” she says. “H-he g-gets like this s-sometimes. When he’s drunk. Usually I can distract him, get him yelling a-about hockey so he d-doesn’t—” Her chest expands on a shuddering breath. “S-so he doesn’t do this.”

All I’m hearing is that he’s done this before.

And now I really want to commit murder.

“What the fuck?”

Ivy jumps and I settle one hand on her nape turning us so my body shields her. I glance over my shoulder at Lake, who’s come around the corner, taken one look at the situation, and knows exactly what the fuck is happening.

“Get Damon,” I say quietly, knowing that the team’s general manager is here tonight and needs to come handle this shit.

Ivy jerks in my hold again. “N-no,” she says, trying to push away from me. “I’m fine. It’s all fine. R-really.”

Lake just meets my eyes and nods.

“I need a drink!” Coach hollers, trying to push up to his feet, but Lake didn’t come alone, I realize. Riggs is here. And Leo and Storm.

And Ella and Nova.

Good to have witnesses.

Bad because this is going to kill Ivy.

I turn to my sister. “Get her coat and purse?”

Ella’s eyes drift down to Ivy pressed against my chest. Then she nods, threading her arm through Nova’s and drawing her away.

“Kn-Knox,” Ivy says when they’ve gone, pushing lightly against my chest, her trembling easing. “We shouldn’t make a b-big deal about this. I’m f-fine and?—”

I cup her jaw, tilt her head up so that our stares are aligned. “We’re making a big deal about this. Because it isn’t fine.”

“I—” Her eyes are damp and she presses her lips together.

“It. Isn’t. Fine.”

Her lids slide closed, a tear skating down her cheek.

I wipe it off, bend down so I can whisper in her ear. “And it isn’t your fault.”

Another jerk, but because this one is paired with a hitch in her breathing, with more tears escaping, I don’t say anything else.

I just hold her as she quietly cries.

And I don’t let go, not when Lake comes back with Damon and not when…

All hell breaks loose.