Chapter 19
PATTERSON
ONE WEEK LATER
The ballroom at the Plaza is dripping with crystal chandeliers and league money.
Tonight, we’re here to honor Coach Hart, even though I can’t stop thinking about his daughter in the most obscene ways.
I adjust my bow tie in the mirror near the coat check and remind myself to be on my very best behavior.
It’s been five days since I saw Kendall, and there have been no emojis or late-night meetups. We agreed to figure out what we’re doing, and apparently, what she’s doing is nothing. Part of me wants to see how long she’ll last before she caves. And I’m partially testing myself.
“Everything okay?” Mila asks. “You’re being weird.”
I roll my eyes at her because that’s the type of relationship we have.
I place my hand on the small of her back, leading her through the room, watching different reporters note who’s with me.
After overhearing my sister mention Mila on that call, I realize how right she is.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the narrative on the drama sites shifts to Mila and me being serious.
I’m encouraging it because that will give me more time with Kendall without anyone getting suspicious.
It’s believable, and that thought makes me smirk.
Mila’s gorgeous, and on paper, she checks all the boxes of being my type, but she’s too high-maintenance for me. There are no sparks from either side, and because of that, we use each other as a stand-in date when we can’t find anyone else.
Funny that my sister noticed, but if she did, others will too.
“Relax,” she whispers, grabbing my hand and leading me through the crowd. As we wait for a glass of champagne, she leans in close. “You never told me what tonight’s goal is?”
I lick my lips and lean in a little closer. “Jealousy.”
Mila’s eyes flash with intrigue as she glances around. “Really? So far, only I’ve pulled that card. Lucky woman.”
I chuckle. “Think you can?”
She’s handed a glass of champagne. “Will you tell me who?”
I shake my head. “I’d rather you guess. Confirm it for me.”
“This is my favorite game to play,” she says. “Kissing?”
“Absolutely,” I tell her as we set the boundaries for the night.
“What level of flirting?”
I’m handed my glass. “Believable. Not annoying. Lots of eye-fucking.”
Mila steps forward and fixes my tie the way a girlfriend would.
She has legs that go on forever and a face that launched a thousand ad campaigns before she started working for Billie Calloway.
We’re close, almost too close, but she doesn’t make a move.
She’s testing the waters as I wrap my arm around her.
“Only a warm-up,” she says.
“I know how it works,” I tell her as we move through the crowd. “Had lots of practice during last year’s wedding season.”
Heads turn as we pass, but she does that in every room she walks into.
We enter the ballroom, and her red dress catches the light.
I search for Kendall without meaning to. My teammates are scattered at various tables, along with coaches, owners, and league executives. There are many people here that I don’t recognize.
One thing is certain: Kendall isn’t here yet.
We find our table near the front, reserved for players giving speeches tonight. Callan is already seated with his date, and Hunter arrives a few minutes later with a blonde who laughs too loudly at everything he says. Puck bunny.
“Big night,” Callan says, nodding toward the stage. “You ready for your speech?”
“Always,” I say, taking a sip of water, knowing I need something much stronger to get me through the night.
I try to keep my focus on Coach Hart and how he gave me the chance of a lifetime. Standing up there and saying a few words about what he means to this team should be easy.
The lights flicker, signaling that dinner service is about to begin. I set my glass down, and when I glance back up to say something to Mila, I see her enter the room.
Kendall’s wearing a black dress that makes my mouth go dry.
It’s simple, elegant, hugging every curve I’ve memorized with my hands.
Her hair is swept up, exposing the neck I’ve bitten so many times and the collarbone I’ve marked.
But that’s not what makes my stomach drop; it’s the man standing tall beside her with his hand on the small of her back.
Jameson.
My brother looks good, relaxed in a way I never am. His smile is easy as he leans down to whisper something in Kendall’s ear. She laughs at whatever he said, that real one, and it makes something really fucking ugly twist in my gut.
Jameson turns, and when he spots me, his grin widens.
He’s the twin who makes friends everywhere he goes while he calculates exactly how to get what he wants.
I’ve watched him do this my entire life.
I watched him take things that should have been mine with that same smile, acting like it was all luck and good timing, but I know better.
He’s overly competitive, and he will do anything to win, even if he’s the only one playing.
I brought a woman she clearly recognizes, based on the expression on her face, and she brought my twin brother.
We’re both playing the jealousy game, but Kendall went nuclear with this decision. There’s petty, and then there’s showing up on the arm of the man who shares my face, who she fucked before, who she almost married.
I lost this one. I’ll give her that because she went next fucking level.
“Ahh,” Mila says, looking at Jameson and Kendall, tossing back her champagne and grabbing another one from the staff. “Noted.”
She shakes her head. “What have you gotten yourself into, Patty?”
I sigh. “Right?”
They make their way toward our table, and my jaw tightens with their every step. Jameson’s hand continues to lightly touch her, guiding her through the crowd as if she belongs to him. Not anymore.
“Surprise!” Jameson says, pulling me into a hug before I can prepare myself. He smells like the same cologne we’ve both worn since high school.
“Jamie.” I hug him back, clapping his shoulder. “Didn’t know you were coming. You’re looking lean.”
“Thanks. I’ve been working out. When Kendall mentioned she needed a date, I honestly couldn’t say no.” He pulls back, grinning at me with my own face. “Didn’t want to miss one of the greatest coaches in the league getting his much-deserved award either. Coach Hart is a legend.”
I want to break my brother’s jaw.
“He is,” I manage.
Kendall hangs back, her eyes meeting mine for half a second before sliding away. She looks stunning and smug, and I want to drag her somewhere private and demand to know what the fuck she thinks she’s doing.
“I wouldn’t be here without Kendall,” Jameson says, his hand finding her waist now. Possessive. “We’ve been catching up. Feels like old times.”
“I’m sure it does,” I say. “Oh, have you met Mila?”
My brother’s eyes light up like he’s discovered a new toy. She sizes my brother up and stands to greet him. I’ve seen that look on his face before.
“Hi. I tame men like you,” she says with a smirk, then turns to me. “Right?”
Laughter falls from my lips. “Whatever you say, babe.”
She sucks on her bottom lip while staring at my mouth.
“You’d better stop that,” I whisper, but it’s loud enough for them to hear.
“How did you two meet?” Jamie asks, and I can tell he’s curious.
“Actually,” Mila begins, “we’ve been on and off again for a few years. Right now, we’re on. Very on.”
“Being with Mila is making me reconsider a lot,” I say as the servers move around us to serve dinner.
I can see the rage in Kendall’s eyes as she glares at me.
“Anyway, you should probably get to your table. Dinner’s being served.”
Jameson looks between us, almost as if he can see the rage. “You two are still at each other’s throats? Wow.”
“Wow, indeed,” Mila says. “Nice to officially meet you, Jameson.”
“Pleasure’s mine,” my brother tells her.
My teammates are staring at me, and Mila tries to cover, but they know me so well that they understand that I’m enraged.
At the next table over, their backs are toward us. Jameson settles into the seat beside her, his arm draping over the back of her chair like he’s claiming her. He had his chance. She was happily planning a future with him.
That’s the difference between him and me. Jameson sees what he wants and takes it. I see what I want and find reasons to hold back.
Not anymore.
Dinner is a living nightmare for me. Every time Jameson leans in to whisper something to Kendall or when his hand brushes her shoulder, I almost crash out.
When she laughs at one of his jokes, I want to scream.
Mila makes conversation, but I’m barely present, offering one-word answers while I watch my brother and Kendall put on a show.
They’re both performing for me right now.
Then I realize that makes me the powerful one.
Once I figure that out, I find my Zen and go into the type of calm I sometimes find on the ice. It’s when I’m most dangerous.
He knows exactly what he’s doing. The lingering touches, the private smiles, the way he keeps finding excuses to be in her space. He’s marking territory. Reminding me that she was his first.
Kendall plays along, which is worse. She leans into his touches instead of pulling away. She meets his eyes when she laughs. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to know when she’s performing.
“You got something on your mind?” Callan asks.
“Thinking about the speech.”
“Nervous?” he asks.
“Nah. Ready to get it over with,” I tell him, forcing a smile.
Dinner drags on for an eternity. When they clear the plates and announce a cocktail hour before the speeches begin, I’m out of my seat. Mila asks where I’m going.
“I’ll be back,” I mutter, not waiting for her response.