Chapter 5
Sebastian
There was something devious in Grace’s parting expression that set me on edge. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was scheming something in that obnoxiously pretty head of hers. It wouldn’t surprise me, especially after her—
“Golden boy,” said a familiar voice. “How does it feel to be back on top?”
I tore my eyes away from her retreating form, confusion sweeping over me at the sight of my old teammate.
Devon Bowman had graduated two years ago, right after I blew out my knee to win us a national hockey title.
Since then, he’d moved to Minneapolis and started working for a sports marketing firm.
And, apparently, grown a rather impressive beard.
“Hey, man,” I said. “What the hell are you doing back at Dallard?”
“Touring the campus with my little brother. He’s looking into colleges this year,” he explained.
“Great game last weekend!” someone said and clapped me on the back as they walked by. It happened so fast that I didn’t catch a glimpse of their face.
“Seems like nothing has changed since I left. You still have all your adoring fans,” Devon teased. If he’d been here last year, or even last week, he wouldn’t be saying that. “I look forward to seeing you back on the ice. If you’re ever in Minneapolis, drop me a line. Let’s catch up.”
I stood rooted to the spot as I offered Devon a halfhearted wave goodbye, still stuck on my conversation with Grace.
It was impossible to enjoy my return as king of the campus with her around. Where did Grace get off thinking she had any claim over DuLane Arena? I hadn’t been serious when I’d offered to make things up to her; I was just curious to see if there was anything she wanted from me.
For a brief moment, when her eyes had filled with the faintest spark of hope as she’d asked for my help, I’d been close to saying yes without considering the consequences.
Clearly, I needed to keep Grace at arm’s length for my own sanity, because there was something about her that made me act recklessly.
I admired her skill on the ice—maybe that explained some of the fascination I had for her.
And even after my less than friendly welcome to school, she’d been willing to put aside her pride in asking for help.
But I couldn’t help Grace without compromising my own goals, and when she was in close proximity, I made stupid, impulsive decisions—flirting, for example.
The girl was a threat to my hockey season and my sanity.
It was simple, really: Grace was trouble waiting to happen, which meant I needed to keep my distance.
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