Knox
The puck slides across the ice, and I’m on it before anyone else. My stick is down, shoulders low as I drive through the neutral zone, cut inside, and snap a shot high glove side. Laiken slides, but he’s a fraction too late, and it slams into the back of the net.
“Jesus, McNichols,” Jax calls from the blue line. “Who the hell pissed in your Cheerios this morning?”
I don’t bother with a response.
Coach blows the whistle. “Reset.”
We line up again. During the next rep, I finish my check harder than I probably should. The boards rattle and Zane grunts.
“What the fuck, McNichols? You see this face? It needs to stay pretty for the cameras.”
I ignore him and keep skating.
“Easy,” Coach warns.
I jerk my head in a nod but go just as hard during the next drill.
I’m wound tight in a way I don’t like, and no matter what I do, I can’t shake it off.
It’s like there’s an itch beneath my skin, and the only way to get rid of it is to skate until my lungs burn and my muscles are a boneless heap of exhaustion.
It doesn’t work. Nothing does.
The problem isn’t my body. It’s my head.
With Cheyenne right across the hall and her scent lingering in the air long after she went to bed, I barely slept a wink.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her on my couch.
In my guest room. In my space. Apparently, the only way I know how to deal with that is by trying to outskate my own damn thoughts.
We run another scrimmage drill, and I crash the crease, taking a rebound before burying it at the back of the net.
River skates past, bumping my shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” I mutter.
He laughs. “Nothing my ass.”
We switch lines.
Jax leans in as we glide to the bench. “Seems to me like someone woke up this morning and chose violence.”
I wipe sweat from my face with the back of my glove and say nothing.
Coach has us skate sprints from the blue line to the goal line and then back again.
I win the first, second, and the third time.
“Okay, psycho,” Zane pants. “Take it down a few notches.”
Jax skates up beside me, breathing hard. “Wanna know what I think?”
“Actually, I don’t.”
He continues anyway. “That you need to get laid.”
Laughter ripples across the ice as I stare straight ahead.
“It’s science,” Jax continues. “If a man goes that hard, he’s got a lot of pent-up aggression and isn’t getting any.”
Zane’s nod is solemn. “Truth.”
Not that I’m going to tell these bozos, but it’s been way longer than any of them realize. And the streak isn’t going to get broken any time soon. That’s for damn sure.
The problem isn’t a lack of options. It’s that none of them are Cheyenne Benson. The only woman I want is sleeping under my own damn roof, and there’s no way anything can happen between us.
My brother would fucking kill me. Plus, it would make everything messy in a way I can’t afford. Family dinners. Holidays. Britt. The kids. The whole tangled knot of our lives.
As we reset for another drill, I glance down the ice and catch Laiken watching me.
He isn’t grinning or chirping. Just silently observing.
I get the feeling he knows exactly what’s going on.
Hell, he probably started piecing it together the second I showed up at his place last night with Chey in tow.
When I meet his gaze, he lifts one brow before kicking away a stray puck.
Great.
By the time practice is over, I’m still twitchy. There’s too much restless energy thrumming beneath my skin. The locker room is loud with music blasting through speakers and guys joking around, giving each other shit.
I drop onto the bench to unlace my skates.
Jax throws a towel over his shoulders. “Bro, I was serious out there. You need to get laid.”
“Hey, I have an idea. How about you mind your own damn business for a change,” I fire back, hoping it’ll shut down this conversation.
Oliver laughs from across the room. “He doesn’t have any business. That’s why he’s all up in yours.”
Jax gives him the finger before turning back to me. “You should’ve taken that hot redhead home when you had the chance. You’d be way more relaxed.”
My fingers still on the laces.
“The one at VYCE,” he continues. “She was practically climbing in your lap.”
Zane smirks. “What’s wrong, McNichols? Couldn’t close the deal? Need a few pointers? I’d be happy to assist with that.”
Jax grins. “Nah, he sent her packing without a second thought.”
The guys laugh and joke around as the showers run, but everything in my head goes quiet.
How the hell was I supposed to take that woman home when she reminded me too damn much of Cheyenne?
Honestly, it doesn’t even matter if they’re a blonde, a brunette, or a redhead.
The second they start getting too close, my brain automatically stacks them up next to Chey.
And they lose.
Every fucking time.
Laiken’s gaze shifts to me again as he pops a brow.
Yup. He definitely suspects.
Maybe taking Chey to his place and introducing them wasn’t such a great idea after all. But what else was I supposed to do? There was no way I could let her wander around the city alone.
Not with her ex tracking her every move.
I finish unlacing my skates and pull them off before pushing to my feet and stripping out of the rest of my gear.
“Maybe you should have done us both a favor and taken her home,” I say evenly.
“Nah, we all know I have a thing for a feisty brunette with a sharp tongue and even sharper claws,” Jax says with a smirk.
The guys around him howl with laughter.
“I’d steer clear, Wilder,” River calls out from across the room. “Sloane will rip you apart with her teeth.”
“God, I certainly hope so. I got a masochistic streak in me a mile wide,” he tosses back.
River shakes his head. “You’re so fucked, dude.”
He only grins in response.
I grab my towel and head for the showers. Steam fills the air as water pounds against the tile. I let it hit the back of my neck as I close my eyes. Thoughts of last night roll through my head, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to turn them off.
Chey sitting on my couch. Flashes of her belly driving me to distraction every time she shifted. Her mouth parting slightly when I stared too long.
I exhale.
It’s fine.
No big deal.
It’s a temporary situation that’ll be over with before I know it. A couple weeks, tops, and then she’ll be out of my penthouse, out of my head, and everything will go back to normal.
At least that’s the bullshit I keep telling myself.
When I walk back out, I grab my clothes and check my phone, watching her location pop up. Looks like she’s at that boutique Kia mentioned last night.
Which means she’s safe.
My shoulders loosen. It’s as if an invisible hand reached into my chest and untied a knot I didn’t realize was there.
Under normal circumstances, I’d hang around after practice and lift or watch film. Maybe grab something to eat with my teammates. Today, I shove my phone into my pocket and pick up my bag.
“You taking off already?” Steele calls out.
“Yeah.”
“Hot date?” Jax asks.
“Nailed it.”
“At least something’s getting nailed,” he shoots back with a smile.
“It’s gonna be your face if you don’t keep your thoughts to yourself, Wilder.”
He chuckles, not bothered in the least by the threat.
The truth is, I just want to be home when Chey returns.
And I’m nowhere near ready to examine what the hell that means.
Although, if I had to take a guess?
It means I’m screwed.