Chapter 4
Istand in the corridor of the sports center, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.
This is a terrible idea. It’s going to end badly. So badly.
I should leave right now, show the Valentine’s Day card to Liz, let her handle it. She’s good at confrontation. To be honest, she’s good at everything I’m terrible at.
But then I remember what was written on that card—the words seared into my brain—and I swallow hard.
I have no choice.
I’ve positioned myself in a recessed section of the hallway where I can see the players leaving but they can’t see me unless they turn and look directly this way. The perfect spot for stalking. Or ambushing. Holy shit, I’m really doing this.
Laughter and deep voices drift toward me, full of the easy confidence the team always carries. I press my spine into the cold plaster and peer around the edge of the wall.
And there he is.
Devlin walks slightly apart from the others, his gym bag slung over one massive shoulder. His black hair is still damp from the shower, falling across his forehead in a way that makes my stomach clench.
He’s wearing a simple black t-shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, dark jeans that hang low on his hips.
Even exhausted from practice, he moves with that predatory grace that makes him look dangerous.
Beautiful and dangerous.
He’s almost to the exit when I pull back into the shadows, my heart hammering. I’ll wait thirty seconds, then secretly follow him. Catch him when he’s alone. Simple.
I count to thirty, take a deep breath, and turn the corner to execute my brilliant plan.
I slam directly into Devlin’s chest.
A startled cry escapes me before I can stop it. Strong hands grip my shoulders, steadying me, and I look up into those dark, unreadable eyes.
Several hockey players turn to look at us. Great. Perfect. Exactly what I needed. Shit, I’m so stupid.
“Hey.” My voice comes out too high, too nervous. I force a smile. “I need to explain everything. We need to resolve this situation.”
“Situation?” Devlin’s voice is cold, flat.
The other players are still watching. I can feel their eyes on us, curious, maybe amused. My skin crawls with discomfort.
Devlin notices. Of course he does.
“Are you afraid?” His lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smile. “That’s good. Fear is useful.”
There’s something predatory in the way he’s looking at me, in the way he’s positioned his body to block me from the hallway.
But there’s something else too—something almost feverish in his eyes, like it’s taking effort to maintain this cold exterior. Like he’s restraining himself.
That small observation gives me courage.
“I know you’ve decided I’m a jerk who decided to joke with you,” I say, lifting my chin. “And I know it’ll be difficult to convince you otherwise. But that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t write any Valentine’s Day cards and didn’t plan any jokes. I was busy with other things.”
“What things?” His eyebrow arches. “Oh, yes. Saving animals with charity fundraisers.”
“Yes.” I finally meet his gaze directly. “And I care about animals in general. You know, without any charity parties, and while no one is watching. But I didn’t come here to discuss that.”
Devlin leans his elbow against the wall, caging me in slightly. “What is it, then? Tell me.”
“Something strange is happening.” I try to keep my voice steady. “You need to understand that it’s very suspicious—”
“I understand perfectly well.”
“It’s very suspicious,” I continue, my voice rising slightly with excitement, “that you were sent a Valentine’s Day card in my name, and I was sent a Valentine’s Day card in your name. It’s not normal, and—”
Devlin grimaces. “Stop. Now you’re going to pretend that I sent you one too.”
“I’m not pretending!” Anxiety spikes through me. “You have to believe me—”
“Why?” He moves closer, and suddenly there’s barely any space between us. “Why should I believe you?”
I’m acutely aware of the other players still in the hallway. Of how this must look.
And… of how Devlin knows exactly how much this is freaking me out.
“Yes, sweetie,” he says quietly, almost mockingly. “We’ll stand here while everyone sees that you’re not gay.”
Something snaps inside me. I pull myself together, look him straight in the eye, and refuse to back down.
“You have to believe me. This is all very strange. Someone is writing… err all kinds of obscenities on our behalf.”
“Then show me.” His tone is almost sarcastic now, like he’s calling a bluff. “Show me this Valentine’s Day card you supposedly received.”
My hand trembles as I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the red paper.
When I hand it to him, our fingers touch—and his fingers linger on my palm.
For just a moment, I think he’s doing it deliberately. To calm me down and to reassure me. It’s so odd.
Then he unfolds the paper and starts reading.
His entire body goes rigid.
Before I can process what’s happening, his hand clamps around my elbow and he’s pulling me, practically dragging me away from the main corridor.
“Hey—what—” I stumble after him, too shocked to resist effectively.
I want to ask sarcastically what happened to that demonstration he wanted to put on for his teammates, but we’re moving too fast.
He pulls me around two corners, down a side hallway I didn’t even know existed, until we’re in a dark dead-end where no one can possibly see us.
“What’s going on?” I let out a nervous laugh. “Why did you drag me here?”
Devlin looks up from the red card, and my breath catches.
I’ve never seen him like this. Not the cold anger from yesterday. Not the mocking superiority from this morning.
This is rage—pure fury that makes his eyes burn black and his jaw clench so hard I can see the muscle jumping.
Yesterday’s emotions were nothing compared to this.
“Who gave you this?” His voice is stern, clipped. “And when?”