Chapter 19 Eva
EVA
My alarm shrieked at five-thirty in the morning, but I’d been awake for hours, staring at my phone screen until my eyes burned, ignoring the supportive messages of my friends.
The carousel of photos mocked me—Cole in a tailored black suit, his arm wrapped possessively around a stunning blonde who gazed up at him in adoration.
She was everything I wasn’t—thin, polished, and rich enough to afford designer dresses and perfect highlights in her hair.
My chest constricted, heart hammering against my ribs in an irregular rhythm. I couldn’t move, couldn’t stop scrolling back to the image of his hand splayed across her lower back, the same way he’d touched me.
Stop.
He’d moved on. In less than a week, Cole Carter had found someone new to fuck. Someone who wouldn’t spy on his team or betray his secrets.
The thought shouldn’t hurt this much. Cole had made it clear what I was to him—a body to use. “Stress relief,” he’d called it.
I threw my phone aside and pressed my palms against my eyes. One shuddering breath after another, I got myself under control.
He hadn’t come with the team yesterday to visit me because he’d been with her.
Fuck him. So fucking hard. He doesn’t deserve my tears.
I rolled out of bed, palmed my morning dose of heart medication, and then stormed over to my closet, only for the sight of the clothes Cole had bought me to bring me up short.
I’d make him regret every fucking moment.
Cole would pay.
And then, his father would pay.
And then, I’d finally be free.
Fuck it.
I took my morning pills dry before pulling on dark jeans that hugged my curves plus a fitted black Marauders t-shirt that I’d cut to show some cleavage. Bright red lipstick and a vicious smile completed the look. Fucking hot.
Good. Let him see what he’d thrown away for his fucking pride.
Let him remember what it felt like to want me so desperately, he’d blackmailed me for it.
I knew my worth, even if he didn’t, and I would never be his or anyone else’s victim ever again.
Ten minutes later, I slipped downstairs to start the walk to the bus stop in the cold.
Massi waited outside my house in a luxury sedan, leaning on the driver’s side, playing on his phone. He looked up then grinned, his delight at seeing me warming my cold, furious heart.
He fucking cared.
This stranger who I only knew because of my job and because I was hooking up with two team members fucking cared.
I wouldn’t cry.
Dammit.
“You look…” He trailed off with a lopsided grin then took my bag without being asked, the gesture so reminiscent of Tristan, my throat closed. “They’re going to regret losing you,” he said quietly. “As they should.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, bemused.
“It was either come get you myself or risk a fight when Cole decided to get behind the wheel still drunk from last night,” he explained as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Rory asked—” he cut himself off. “Better this way for everyone, right?”
I didn’t want to think about hands and mouths and cruel words that still haunted my dreams.
I hated Cole.
I hated what he’d done to me.
I hated that he hadn’t understood the impossible choice he’d given me.
I hated that he still didn’t.
I hated that I missed the out-of-control and obsessive way he wanted me, as if he’d die if he didn’t get a taste of me.
I hated that I missed the bliss when he seized control, and I could relax for just a goddamned minute, knowing I didn’t have to make any choices when I was with him—because I couldn’t.
And I hated myself for the tendril of disappointment that wound through me when I found Massi waiting for me instead of Cole and Tristan.
We drove in silence.
“Dr. Parker knows you’re coming?” he asked.
“As far as she’s concerned, I never quit,” I answered softly, embarrassed at my temper tantrum and ashamed to come crawling back.
“The team feels the same way,” he agreed. “I don’t know what Cole and Tristan did to you, or Coach,” his voice dropped on the last word, as if he were loath to bring Alek into our conversation, “But we won’t let them bother you again.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, ignoring the conflict that roiled in my gut. I wanted a barrier between me and my tormentors. Right?
“Eva!” Dr. Parker’s relief at seeing me was so genuine, it made my heart ache. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”
“Hi,” I said softly, not knowing what to say.
She looked me up and down over the wire rim of her glasses and pulled me into her office.
I dropped into the plastic chair she indicated, waiting for her to speak. She took her glasses off and looked me up and down with concern. “Are you sure you’re ready to come back?”
I scoffed. As if I had any sort of choice. All that suffering, and I was exactly where I’d started—desperate for my job, spying for Jed fucking Carter.
I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “I want to come back. I need to come back.” I needed to collect information for Carter and keep him happy until I figured out how to take him down so that asshole couldn’t hurt anyone else ever again.
My heart sped up, and I rubbed my chest absently.
“Your doctors cleared you to come back to classes and to work?” Dr. Parker asked, interrupting my spiral.
They hadn’t cleared me for shit. They’d taken one look at my class schedule, sighed deeply, and asked if I could finish out the semester online.
“Light duty,” I lied with a smile. “But I do need the job, and I also need the credits, so please trust me to know how far I can push my body.”
Dr. Parker arched a salt-and-pepper eyebrow at me, but I kept my face impassive. “Are you sure?”
“Dr. Parker, I need this job. I needed it in August, and I need it now in October. Please let me work.”
She scrubbed her face. “Do you want to start today?”
I sighed with relief. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Skedaddle, then. Coach Novikov will want you taking notes,” she said.
On my way out the door, I turned around and asked, “Dr. Parker? Why does Jed Carter hate Coach so much?”
Her eyes hit her hairline behind her glasses. “Probably because Marauders hockey is the only athletic program in Yorkfield Carter can’t get his fingers into.”
Guilt landed hard in my gut, a hard stone that sat right beside the guilt I carried for my father’s debts.
“He’s approached Coach?” God, that question sounded so fucking naive. Wait. Dr. Parker was deeply involved with all the athletic programs here. “Dr. Parker…” I trailed off, realizing what I was about to imply. “Why doesn’t anyone do anything?” Why haven’t you done anything?
Dr. Parker raised an eyebrow that made me feel small. Jed Carter held enormous power, and he’d do anything to hold on to it. Look what he was making me do, just to hurt his son.
She removed her glasses, cleaning them slowly. “Jed Carter donates millions to this university. That buys influence.”
“Someone should stop him,” I whispered.
“Get to practice, Eva,” she said gently. “And if anyone gives you trouble, you come to me immediately.”
If only it were that simple.
Inside the arena, the familiar blast of icy air hit my face. I stepped through, tablet in hand, pretending I belonged there—professional, competent, and totally under control.
Then, I saw them.
Cole’s powerful strides ate up the ice as he carried the puck toward the goal. God, he looked so fucking good.
My heart slammed so hard against my ribs, I gasped.
The tablet slipped from my suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering to the concrete floor.
My chest constricted, and the telltale flutter of my newly repaired valve told me it was working overtime.
I pressed my palm against my sternum, trying to steady my breathing.
He looked exactly the same. Devastating. Dangerous.
Mine.
No. Not mine. Never mine. Never again.
Cole’s head snapped up at the sound of the tablet hitting the floor. His gaze found me instantly, like he’d been waiting for me to walk through those doors.
The puck skittered away from his stick.
His entire body went rigid on the ice, and I watched his lips part in what might have been my name. Even from this distance, I could see his gaze sweep over me—the fitted jeans that hugged my curves, the athletic top that showed just enough skin, the red lipstick.
Good. Let him look. Let him remember.
Then, Tristan appeared beside him, and my breath caught for an entirely different reason.
Where Cole looked like he wanted to devour me, Tristan’s face softened with relief.
“Eva,” Tristan breathed, loud enough for his voice to carry across the ice.
Practice stopped. Every player on the ice turned to stare at the three of us caught in this horrible triangle of want and hurt and unfinished business.
Haruto skated closer to Tristan, ready to intervene. Rami positioned himself between Cole and me.
Cole’s jaw clenched, and he flexed his hands around his stick. For a terrifying moment, I thought he might actually climb over the barrier and come for me.
Instead, he pivoted sharply and slammed his shoulder into the nearest player—some freshman who hadn’t been quick enough to get out of the way. The kid went down hard, and suddenly, everyone was moving, shouting, the careful choreography of practice dissolving into chaos.
“Carter!” Alek’s voice boomed across the ice, sharp with authority, his Russian accent as thick as I’d ever heard it. “Penalty box. Now.”
Cole’s eyes never left mine as he skated toward the box. He slammed into the plexiglass, his eyes still locked on mine. Alek’s whistle shrieked across the ice.
“Again,” he commanded the team, his voice cutting through the lingering tension. “And if anyone else decides practice is optional, you’ll join Carter.”
Slowly, reluctantly, the players returned to formation.
“Miss Jackson.” Alek’s voice was low and controlled. “Perhaps you could retrieve your tablet and allow us to get back to work.”
My hands shook so badly, I could barely pick it up. When I straightened, Alek was studying my face with those dark, penetrating eyes.
“Are you going to be a problem?” he asked quietly when I reached the bench.
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze steadily. “No, sir,” I lied. Fuck yes, I was going to be a problem.
“Good.” He turned back to the ice. “Because we have work to do.”
I stood beside Alek during practice, observing and taking notes, as I had in every practice before. When I wavered thirty minutes in, he reached into the bag at his feet and silently handed me an orange without ever even looking at me.
The sharp citrus taste took me back to his office—the shameful moment when I came to him to beg him to put me on my knees, and he knew exactly what I needed to break me out of my spiral.
Out of the side of my eye, I looked at him. His fingers were white where they gripped the barrier, but he didn’t turn his head my way, not even when he instructed me to take notes on this player’s injury or that.
My heart hardened once again.
Alek might have fucked me once, but I’d use him to fuck over Jed Carter.
Even if it cost me everything.