Chapter 13
PATTERSON
Three days have passed since I had Kendall pinned against her bedroom wall with my hand between her thighs, and she hasn’t reached out once.
There hasn’t been an emoji lighting up my phone or any signal that she wants to see me.
Her silence is crawling under my skin, and it’s making me irritable as hell.
I check my phone for the fifth time this morning while the espresso maker gurgles in my kitchen.
Still nothing. She’s supposed to reach out when she wants to meet up, because I refuse to be the one to contact her first. Kendall proposed this arrangement; she set the rules, and now she needs to take initiative. I won’t be the one to do it.
Maybe Sunday got to her, and she’s reconsidering it all.
Her father’s voice echoed up the stairs while my mouth was on her neck, and I knew how close we were to disaster with her parents downstairs.
Or maybe she really is pissed about the dates I’m going on.
It was to remind her of our agreement and where things stand between us.
However, I saw the flash of jealousy in her eyes before she masked it.
The date was a PR setup my agent had arranged weeks ago.
I sat across from a woman whose name I can’t remember, nodded at the right moments, and thought about how Kendall ground against my thigh in that bedroom, surrounded by her skating trophies.
I can still almost hear the desperate edge in her voice when she asked me to meet her that night.
I told her no because if I’d gone to her apartment after leaving her parents’ house, I would’ve fucked her until neither of us could walk to prove a point. Weirdly, I don’t want to rush this even though we’re running out of time.
I shove my phone in my pocket and head to the facility for morning practice while the February air bites through my jacket.
I tell myself I don’t care if she reaches out or not because this is just sex.
We’re two people who hate each other and need to burn off tension without expectation until the season ends. That’s all it can be.
Practice is brutal. I push harder than I need to and take hits I could avoid.
Coach’s words from Sunday keep bouncing around my skull. “… bury it so deep that no one ever sees it again.”
The whole facility has noticed the tension between us. My coaches and teammates have noticed. Kendall is becoming an unwanted distraction, and I hate that she has this power over me without even trying.
During a scrimmage, Wyatt fumbles an easy pass I send his way, and the puck skitters into the corner, where Boston’s defense would’ve eaten him alive in a real game.
“What the hell was that?” I skate up on him harder than necessary. “Do better.”
Wyatt’s face goes red. “Sorry, I—”
“You what? Forgot how to play hockey?” I’m in his face now, and some distant part of me knows I’m being an asshole. “Get your head out of your ass or get off the ice. We need to win if we want to go to the playoffs.”
“Cross.” Callan’s voice cuts through the chatter. “Back the fuck off.”
I skate away without another word, leaving Wyatt standing there, looking like a kicked puppy, while the rest of the team exchanges glances. I know they’re wondering what crawled up my ass and died, and I can’t exactly explain that Coach’s daughter is to blame.
The days blur together, and I fill every empty night with distractions.
By Friday, I’ve been on four dates with four different women, and the headlines are everywhere. TMZ, Page Six, Deadspin, and even LadyLux are running photos of me leaving restaurants and clubs with models and actresses whose names I don’t fully remember.
The narrative is exactly what I need—Patterson Cross, playboy extraordinaire, living his best life during the season. No one would ever guess that each night ends with me taking a cold shower before staring at the ceiling, thinking about someone I shouldn’t want.
Monday afternoon, I’m in the weight room, trying to burn off the restless energy that’s been building since last weekend, when she walks in.
Kendall moves through the doors with her camera bag slung over her shoulder and that leather notebook tucked under her arm.
She’s wearing black leggings and an Angels hoodie that shouldn’t look as good as it does.
While it’s not surprising, she doesn’t even glance in my direction as she heads toward the hallway.
Hunter intercepts her within three steps.
“There she is.” He grins wide, all swagger and confidence as he approaches her. “Starting to think you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Sorry. I’m super busy.” Her voice carries across the room, warm and teasing in a way she never sounds with me. “Trying to stay ahead of schedule.”
He steps closer, leaning against the doorframe like he owns it. “You know what you need? Dinner. I know this place in the Village with an incredible wine list.”
“Hunter.” She’s smiling now—actually smiling at this idiot. “You already know my answer and the rules. No dating Angels, unless you can get permission from my dad.”
“Rules are suggestions. Maybe I’ll ask him.” His hand casually lands on her arm while my grip tightens on the dumbbell until my knuckles go white.
She can flirt with whoever she wants, but her body is mine. Right now, Hunter is standing close enough to count her freckles while I’m across the room, pretending I don’t give a shit.
The weight clanks back onto the rack, and I head for the showers without finishing my set. We don’t even look in each other’s direction.
That night, while I’m sprawled on my couch, pretending to watch game film, my phone vibrates. I grab it, hoping it’s her.
Addison
You good? Mom said she spoke to you, and you sounded tense.
Of course, my sister is calling me out. She doesn’t let anything slide, which is exactly why I need to keep her far away from whatever this thing is with Kendall.
Patterson
Fine. Very focused on the season. Have a lot on my mind.
Addison
Mm-hmm. So, tell me about this revolving door of dates you’ve been on.
Patterson
My personal life is none of your business.
Addison
Wow. Defensive much? Seems to me like you’re overcompensating for something.
She’s right, and I hate that she’s right. This version of me is performing for an audience of one, hoping Kendall sees every headline and feels something. Then again, this is why I have a fan club of mostly women.
Patterson
Drop it.
Addison
Fine. But when you’re ready to tell me what’s actually going on, I’m here for you. Come on, you know you’re my favorite brother.
Patterson
Right. I’m sure you tell Jamie the same thing.
Addison
Sometimes. But only when you’re being an asshole.
This makes me laugh.
Addison
Which is always. Anyway, we should get together soon and catch up. Maybe after your away games?
Patterson
I’d like that.
I toss my phone on the nightstand and stare at the ceiling for hours.
The next morning, I’m heading toward the rink for early practice when I hear footsteps behind me. Before I turn around, I know it’s her because I’ve developed some kind of radar for Kendall Hart’s presence that I can’t seem to shut off.
“We need to talk.” Her voice is rough.
I keep walking. “Do we?”
She grabs my arm and yanks me into an empty hallway, shoving me against the wall with more force than I’d expect from someone her size. Her eyes are blazing, and her chest is heaving. She looks pissed at me, which shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.
“Do you plan to keep me celibate until the end of time?” She’s close enough that I can smell her vanilla perfume and see the gold flecks in those furious brown eyes. “Because that’s what this feels like. Punishment.”
“You could’ve reached out at any time,” I tell her.
“So could you.”
“Yeah, but you proposed this arrangement.” My heart is racing. “You come to me when you want it. That’s how this works.”
“That’s not—”
“I won’t contact you first.” I push off the wall, crowding her now, reversing our positions until her back hits the opposite wall.
“You wanted this, remember? You got on your knees for me and set the terms.” I brace my forearm above her head and watch her pupils blow wide.
“So, if you’re frustrated, that’s a you problem, babe. Don’t be too proud to text me.”
Her breath catches, and I watch her thighs press together involuntarily. She’s pissed off and turned on and trying desperately to hide both.
“You’re unbelievable.” She’s seething.
“So what? You’re desperate.” I let my gaze drag down her body, taking my time. “Over a week without my hands on you, and now you’re cornering me in hallways, shoving me against walls like a rabid animal.” I lean in closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Pathetic, Ken Doll.”
A small sound escapes her throat before she catches herself. “I saw the headlines, Pattycakes. Four dates last week. Been busy.”
“Jealous?”
“Please.” She scoffs, but her voice is breathier than before. “I don’t give a shit who you’re with.”
“Sure you don’t.” I drag my knuckles down her arm, light enough to make her shiver. “That’s why you’re trembling right now. That’s why you hunted me down first thing in the morning. Because you don’t give a shit.”
“I’m shaking because I’m pissed off.”
“Liar.” I press my thigh between hers, just barely, and watch her eyes flutter. “You’re shaking because you haven’t come, and you’re losing your mind, thinking about me every free second you have. Please tell me I’m wrong.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s the idea.” I grind my thigh up against her, and she bites her lip hard enough to leave marks. “But you have to ask nicely.”
“I really hate you,” she says.
I don’t step back. I don’t give her an inch. If anything, her words only make me harder.
“Feel better?” I ask.
“Much.”