Chapter 3
PATTERSON
Ishow up to the facility at five in the morning because my brain won’t shut off, and sometimes, being on the ice is the only thing that helps.
Most of the building is still dark, but Coach is here somewhere because I swear that man never rests.
I head toward the locker room and change into my practice gear before grabbing my skates, and as I move down the hallway that leads to the rink, I hear Coldplay.
No way Coach would be listening to this, but it has me curious about who’s here this early.
I follow the sound and stop at the entrance.
Of fucking course Kendall’s here.
This woman loves being under my skin, torturing me in ways I can barely articulate. Yesterday, when I spoke with my sister, she couldn’t understand my hatred of her best friend. Some days, I don’t understand it either. Hating her is my habit.
I should turn around, grab my shit, and leave, but I can’t make myself move. Right now, she’s oblivious to me, and I like it that way.
Kendall’s wearing black leggings and a tight athletic top with her dark hair pulled back into a high bun. A portable speaker sits on the ledge, playing the music while she skates backward with her eyes closed, feeling the beat. She’s a ballerina with bite on blades.
My feet stay planted, and part of me resents her for it. Even after all this time, she still controls me without even trying.
Sometimes, I forget she was on the path to becoming an Olympian before an ankle injury ended her career. When the accident happened, Coach missed a month of practice, and it was the only time he’d ever been absent.
She builds speed like she’s setting up for something big, and seconds later, she launches into the air and throws a triple axel with three and a half rotations. Her blade hits the ice and cuts through it like nothing. A satisfied grin touches her lips as she continues.
My hand curls into a fist. Watching her now makes me want to say much worse than I did yesterday.
She slows into a spin, and when the song ends, she’s smiling. Her eyes find mine, and it vanishes. As she breathes hard, we stare at each other across the ice.
I wait for her to give me something, to flip me off, but she doesn’t.
She skates to the board to grab a towel and drink from her bottle.
The music stops. A few seconds later, she’s pulling off her skates and putting on sneakers, ignoring my existence as she walks toward me.
When she’s close, I use the nickname she despises.
“Ken Doll.”
She stops walking and glares at me. “Don’t use that nickname ever again.”
“Or what?”
If looks could kill, I’d be laid out flat.
She tries to step around me, but I block her.
“Get out of my way, Patty.”
Only my teammates can call me that. No one else. Especially not her.
“Cute,” I say. “Why the hell are you here?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize I needed to check in with you before I hit the ice.”
She’s impossibly sassy as she glances down at my lips and then back to my eyes. My pulse has no business responding to her after everything.
“Move,” she says. “Now.”
“Manners never were your strong suit, were they? Rules either.”
Annoyance flashes across her face as she takes a step forward, and she’s in my space. I hold my ground even though my skin prickles with awareness.
“I love how my presence bothers you so much,” she mutters. “How long has it been, Pattycakes? Five years? Still butthurt after all this time?”
“Oh, I can hold a grudge for a lifetime. You’ll learn that.”
“Hope you do,” she tells me, but I can see she’s bothered. Her body is tense, and her fingers grip the strap of her bag a little tighter.
“I will. The sooner you’re gone, the better.” I clap my hands together and close my eyes. “Dear Lord, please, if you can hear me, get rid of this bitch.”
She mocks me. “Yes, Lord, he goes by Patty. Dispose of him soon.”
“I want you gone now. I want to forget you exist. Schedule me first so I can get this bullshit over with.”
She laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “You don’t get to dictate my painting schedule.”
Kendall rams her shoulder into mine as she passes, and it’s a good hit, strong and full of power. “You’ll get your session when I’m ready to deal with your rude ass.”
I turn to see her disappearing around the corner.
So much for that promise I made to my sister that I’d try to be nice. I can’t.
I put on my skates and push myself through laps until my thighs ache. My teammates show up around six, and Callan takes one glance at me during warm-ups and skates over, proving why he’s the best man to be captain. He pays attention to detail.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Fine,” I exhale.
He doesn’t believe me, but he also doesn’t push any further.
Practice is a fucking disaster.
During the scrimmage, Hunter feeds me a perfect cross-ice pass.
It’s the shot I’ve buried a thousand times, the one that got me drafted and signed and paid.
I wind up, and the puck dribbles off my stick like I’m some fourteen-year-old in juniors who forgot the basics.
Coach made me run that drill five hundred times my first year until it was muscle memory.
There have been seasons where I couldn’t miss even if I tried, but today, I can’t hit anything.
The silence on the rink is worse than shouting. Nobody says a word. They skate past with their eyes down.
“Cross!” Coach yells. “Get your head out of your ass! What’s your problem today?”
I don’t answer or apologize. Instead, I push harder, skating until my lungs scream and my muscles shake. Nothing clears my head.
I keep picturing that triple axel and her expression afterward.
Then my mind flashes to New Year’s Eve, and Kendall wrapped around Damien Blackwell at midnight.
His hands were on her waist, and his mouth was at her ear, whispering something that made her throw her head back and laugh.
When she caught me staring from across the room, she didn’t ignore me.
She held my gaze with a bitter smile before pulling Damien into a kiss.
I left after the confetti hit the floor.
Damien saw what he wanted and took it, just like Jameson had done years ago. Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I’ve always been the one who stands frozen while everyone else makes a move.
By the time I’m showered and dressed, most of the guys are gone.
I’m walking toward the exit when I see her hanging a paper on the bulletin board outside the locker room.
Now she’s wearing tight jeans, and her hair is down.
When she sees me, Kendall rolls her eyes and heads in the opposite direction.
I move toward the board and scan the info posted.
Portrait Schedule—February
Tyler Reed—February 3, 12:00 p.m.
Hunter Matthews—February 4, 2:00 p.m.
Callan Riddick—February 5, 12:00 p.m.
Ryan Brady—February 6, 2:00 p.m.
Wyatt King—February 9, 12:00 p.m.
Jacob Davidsen—February 10, 2:00 p.m.
Liam Coopers—February 11, 12:00 p.m.
Mason Reyes—February 12, 2:00 p.m.
She left me off of the first round of portraits on purpose. It wouldn’t surprise me if she puts me dead last to ensure she’s lodged in my brain for weeks. I have a very busy schedule, juggling practices, games, and charity events. I don’t have time for this bullshit.
The door to the other hallway slams shut, and I sprint toward it. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and I jog toward her.
“What the fuck, Kendall?!” My voice echoes off the walls as I catch up.
“Let me guess,” she says coolly before turning around. “You saw the schedule, and you didn’t approve.”
“Why am I not on it?”
“You’ll get your session.”
“When? Dead last?”
“I’ve already explained this to you. When I feel like it,” she growls.
I move toward her. “You’re un-fucking-believable.”
“That honestly sounds like a you problem.”
“It’s going to be an us problem if you keep playing these games. Leave me alone.”
Her eyes narrow, and she bursts out laughing at me. “Am I supposed to be threatened?”
“Schedule me this week, or I’m taking this to Coach.”
She tilts her head and studies me. “Double dare you.”
My teeth grind together as she steps closer. Now she’s the one in my space with her chin lifted, and her scent fills my lungs. My heart hammers, and my hands twitch at my sides because I don’t know if I want to shove her away or pull her closer. The uncertainty makes me furious.
“Spoiled little Pattycakes isn’t getting his way. Boohoo.”
I hold my breath because if I inhale again, I’ll smell her, and I can’t think straight when I do.
“Fuck off. Seriously,” I manage.
“Think you’d enjoy that too much.” Her expression hardens as she holds my gaze. “The bottom line is, you don’t get to demand anything from me. Stop cornering me in hallways and barking orders because you’re uncomfortable. Grow up.”
“This is bullshit.”
“This is my project. My timeline. My rules. You’ll do what I want for once. So sorry you don’t like not having control of situations.” She’s so close that I can see the gold flecks in her eyes. “You’ll get over it.”
“You’re impossible,” I say roughly.
“Hmm.” She smirks. “Maybe I get off on watching you squirm. Like at New Year’s.”
“Seeing you with Damien didn’t bother me. He has zero integrity. Says more about you than him. You a puck bunny, Ken?”
For a split second, something flickers across her face. It’s gone before I can name it and replaced by that armor-plated grin, but I saw the crack.
“And if I were, know that you’d be the last dick on my roster.” She glances down at my crotch and then back to my eyes. “Not into micro-penises.”
I burst into laughter. “That’s the best you have? I wouldn’t fuck you with my brother’s dick.”
Her cheeks heat. “You’re such a bastard.”
“And you’re a bitch,” I say as she storms off.
I stand in the empty hallway with my fists balled at my sides, teeth aching from how hard I’ve been clenching them.
I have months of pretending she doesn’t get under my skin. Whatever happened between us years ago should be ancient history by now, but it’s not, and I don’t know how to bury it when she keeps digging it back up.
I need to get her out of my system, whatever it fucking takes, because I can’t keep doing this.