33. Chord
thirty-three
Chord
As soon as Violet is well out of earshot, I round on Coach. “What the fuck is Spencer Cook doing here?”
The people closest to us startle at my language, and as they cast sidelong glances my way, Campbell grumbles under his breath and drags me into a quiet corner.
“His father—”
I jerk my arm from Coach’s grasp. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
He pins me with a disapproving stare, and my nostrils flare as I take in a calming breath, but my blood’s running too hot, and the oxygen only fuels the burn.
“I haven’t even played my first game with this team, and somebody somewhere thought it’d be fine to put me in the same room with him? And my cheating ex-girlfriend? With media and cameras everywhere?”
I forget myself and run a hand through my styled hair, then swear under my breath and stuff my hand in my pocket. What I wouldn’t give to get out of here right now, take Violet with me, and never look back.
The thought stuns me amid the rage. Even on my worst days, I’ve never seriously considered giving up hockey, but it’s hard to give a shit about any of it right now, and it’s too damn easy to be with Violet.
“Are you signing him?” I demand.
“What? No!” Coach shakes his head, but his hesitant expression doesn’t fill me with confidence, and then he adds, “Not if I can help it.”
I grind my teeth and toss my head, too pissed to be having this conversation in public. And Violet’s been gone too long, making me itch like something is missing.
“I’m leaving.”
Coach opens his mouth to protest, then closes it and nods. The Foundation does important work for causes that mean a lot to me, but I’m not going to do the Fury any favors by acting like an asshole to our donors. And I’ve reached my cap on civility.
“That might be for the best,” he agrees.
I grunt and stalk away without saying goodbye, glaring across the room and only partially relieved I can’t see Cook. I’m picturing how good it’d feel to stumble over him with a fist in his face.
I ignore the familiar weight of everyone’s eyes on me as I sweep through the room like a thundercloud and slip out a set of doors into an empty reception area. I scan the space to figure out where to go next, but there are no bathrooms, which means I’ve taken the wrong exit. I spin to retrace my steps just as Hayden follows me through the doors. He’s dressed in a similar tux, his dark blond hair styled and his scruff neatly trimmed, but his wide smile fades when he sees the scowl on mine. It’s mostly my beef with Spencer Cook written on my face, but there’s a little irritation with Hayden, too. Shore is a fuckboy who flirts with everyone, but I don’t like the way he flashes that stupid grin at Violet.
“Listen,” he starts.
I try to step around him. “Can we do this later?”
He stops me with a palm to my chest. “I didn’t mean to overstep with Violet.”
I grit my teeth and meet his eyes, and his throat bobs with a nervous swallow.
“I don’t hook up with women I know are unavailable, and I never mess with girls dating the guys on my team. I want you to know that. I’d never do that to you.”
I scowl harder. In his own way, Hayden’s trying to tell me he’s not like Spencer Cook. And another time, maybe I’d appreciate it—even believe it—but with Emma and Cook only a few feet away, I’m not in the mood to make someone else feel better about himself.
Hayden grimaces and drops his hand. “Okay. Well. As long as you know that I’m sorry about Violet. I didn’t mean anything by it, and I’ll keep my distance if that’s what you want.”
Someone scoffs loudly behind me, and I spin slowly toward the sound.
Fucking Cook.
“Hayden Shore’s not interested in the exquisite woman Davenport brought with him tonight?” Cook’s smirk pulls at one cheek, and though he’s talking to Shore, his eyes keep sliding my way. “When did you become a monk?”
I ball my fists at my sides while Cook tugs at his cuffs like he doesn’t have a worry in the world. Like he’s got all the answers. Like he knows I’m not going to risk laying a hand on him, and he snickers to himself as he shakes his head.
“You’re more stupid than you look, Shore. That girl would be the easiest lay you’ve ever had.” Cook’s focus returns to me. “Every player in the league knows the best way to land a woman like that is to make sure she screwed this asshole first. They leave his bed and go hunting for better just to erase the disappointment.”
He’s goading me, and I’m too old to be goaded, but fuck it. I want to take the bait. I lurch forward, but Hayden’s too fast, and he blocks my shot. Cook chortles, then lifts his chin and smirks at something behind me. I glance back as West, Jake, Theo, and Breaker file through the doors. With their expensive tuxes, flashy watches, and perfect hair, they’re a well-dressed wall of don’t fuck with us .
Cook raises his eyebrows, cocks his head. “Aw. How sweet. The whole gang’s here.” He puts up his fists and throws a few punches in the air. “You here to fight me? Teach me a lesson?”
Theo runs a palm down the front of his tux. “I’d love to, man, but not tonight. I look too fucking good to get your blood on this suit.”
Breaker moves up beside Hayden, blocking Cook with a wide-legged stance like he’s guarding the net. “And I just don’t want to waste the twelve seconds it would take to beat the shit out of you.”
Spencer scoffs with an infuriating lift to his mouth. “Davenport’s got himself a bodyguard. Cute.”
“Don’t worry, asshole,” Jake threatens in a low voice. “It’ll happen eventually, but we’ll do it on the ice. Like gentlemen.”
Spencer narrows his eyes at Jake as West sets a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“Sure,” I agree, pretending to turn around, but as soon as I’ve got a clear shot, I spin and land a fist in Spencer Cook’s stomach. He doubles over with a grunt, and I shake my hand with a sense of pained satisfaction.
“ Dude ,” Breaker moans as his head falls back.
“He had it coming,” Theo argues.
Spencer tries to straighten, hands planted on his knees, but he’s pale and winded, so I give him a hand and drag him up by his collar. “Say one more thing about the woman I love,” I demand in his face. “Go on. I dare you.”
He groans and tries to glare at me. “You’re going to pay for this, Davenport.”
“Good,” West says behind me. “Send the bill to the fucking San Francisco Fury.”
I flex my fingers and recall Cook’s peaked, pained face with satisfaction as I follow the guys back into the ballroom. They make a line straight for the bar, where Theo signals to the server and orders a round of beers.
“You guys didn’t have to do that,” I say as I accept the glass Theo thrusts at me.
“Uh, yeah, we did,” Theo replies, one elbow resting on the bar as he looks out over the room. “That douche has been asking to get his ass kicked for years.”
“Can’t wait for the season to start,” Jake adds, cracking his knuckles to make it obvious what he means.
I take a shallow swallow of my beer while looking around the room for Violet. For the first time in a long time, I wouldn’t mind sharing a drink with my team, but I’m desperate to find my girl, so I stop at the first sip and set the glass on the counter.
“I have to bail,” I announce, offering my hand to Breaker. He takes it and pulls me in for a hug.
“We’ll see you at your place next week for training,” West says, giving me a couple of thumps on my back.
“Sure.” I glance at my barely touched beer. “And why don’t you guys stick around afterward? We can try this again at the bar in Aster Springs.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Theo says as the other boys mutter their agreement.
Hayden’s the last to say goodbye, taking me aside and muttering under his breath without the other guys hearing him.
“So… are we cool?”
He looks nervous, and I kind of hate myself for being the reason he feels that way.
“We’re cool.” I shake his hand, then roll my eyes when he grins like a fucking kid. “I’ll see you at the ranch on Friday.”
I ask a server for the location of the bathrooms, then make my way around the outside of the room and successfully avoid conversation. I loiter outside the women’s bathroom door for a few minutes, but I can’t be certain Violet is inside, so I move up the corridor a little, pulling out my phone and preparing a text.
A familiar voice stops me dead in my tracks.
“And Chord? Well, it won’t be long until he’s washed up right alongside you. Replaced with someone better and hotter than he ever was.”
Fuck. That’s Emma .
But it’s the reply that makes my heart jump into my throat.
“Why are you behaving like this?” Violet demands on the other side of the wall. “ You left Chord. You cheated on him . Why are you going out of your way to say these horrible things about him? Are you not over him? Are you jealous?”
The impulse to storm in and shut this down is overpowering, but I make myself wait. I’ve never heard Violet speak with such confidence, and something like pride makes me take a deep, long breath.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emma snaps, “and you’ve got no idea who that man really is. He’s cold and closed off and incapable of real connection. And he certainly doesn’t love you.” She cuts off with a cruel laugh. “Oh, my God. You think he loves you? That’s pathetic. Chord Davenport doesn’t love anyone but himself. He doesn’t know how.”
“You don’t know him at all,” Violet replies, emotion making her voice high. “And if you believe that Chord doesn’t know how to love, it means you never even bothered to try. That man is the most loving person I know. He’s kind and thoughtful. He’s affectionate and sweet. He’s a provider and a protector, and if people took the time to look past the fact that he’s beautiful and rich and the best damn player the NHL has ever seen, they’d know that his independence is because of his strength of character and that he’s withdrawn because he’s misunderstood. He deserves more than you ever gave him, and that’s why he’s not with you now. It’s got nothing to do with Spencer Cook, and everything to do with your cruel, selfish heart!”
I blink and swallow the lump in my throat, then enter the little room in three long strides. Violet and Emma see me at the same time, their heads whipping around, but I ignore my ex and rush to Violet, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her hard.
I press my forehead to hers. “I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so fucking much.”
Her cheeks bloom, her chestnut eyes shine with tears, and I grin. “Let’s get out of here.”