Chapter Six
Cara
Practice is half over, and my notebook is full of observations.
Sadly, not a single one of them will ever see the light of day because I'm almost certain the world doesn't need to know that Phoenix's laugh sounds like thunder rumbling through the arena or that he made my heart flutter when he winked at me while skating by.
I'm not entirely sure why I wrote either, to be honest.
The man is doing something to my brain that's not natural.
I'm not sure it's legal, either. I tried like hell to avoid the arena after he kissed me at the game, but it didn't help.
As soon as they were on a plane to Colorado, I found myself right back here, prowling the halls, trying to figure out what he was hiding.
And somewhere along the way, I came face to face with the realization that I wasn't digging because it's my job. I was digging because it's him. Because, dammit all, he's gotten under my skin.
What he said about not believing rumors or gossip because anyone can start them refused to leave my brain.
At first, I thought maybe he was trying to say that Corey started the rumor to make him look bad.
I could almost believe that. Almost. Except…
I don't think Corey actually wants to make him look bad.
I think Corey is flirting with me to annoy him, simply for the sake of his own personal entertainment. He's not really into me. He simply wants to push Phoenix's buttons. So why would he start a rumor of this magnitude?
It makes no sense.
Hell, nothing makes much sense. But I've spent the last few days pouring over the facts, and they all lead back to one simple truth.
If Phoenix were truly in trouble for something serious enough to elicit whispers of prison, he'd be riding the bench or, worse, already sacked.
He wouldn't be playing like nothing ever happened.
There would be police reports or some sort of paper trail.
The only things I've found are the rumors flowing from his teammates and support staff. The ones he doesn't seem to be in any hurry to shut down. There's no substance to them.
Which can only mean they aren't true. And that leaves me with one glaring possibility: He started them himself. After talking to him this morning, I'm more convinced of that than ever. I just don't understand why.
My notebook contains a whole roster of theories, but they all point to a place I'm not sure I'm ready to go. It feels dangerous, like leaping from a freaking roof and hoping I learn to fly on the way down.
I'm not sure I'm ready to leap.
I'm not sure I'm not ready, either.
And that's the most dangerous thing of all. He's turning me inside out little by little, making me question what I really want. That wasn't supposed to happen. This was supposed to be a job. Instead, it's turning into something else altogether. Something a whole lot bigger.
"Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you're scowling?" Corey asks, dropping onto the bench beside me.
I startle so hard, I drop my notebook.
He reaches for it with a laugh, but I lunge for it, snatching it back before he manages to get his hands on it. There's no way in hell I ever want him to see any of the shit I've written in there about Phoenix. No way in hell.
"State secrets?" he asks, one brow arched.
"Yes," I lie, flipping it closed before shoving it into my pocket. "Top secret state secrets."
"Oh, now I'm really curious. Anything good?"
"Maybe." I look at him out of the corner of my eye.
He's sweaty, his hair plastered to his head.
Even so, I can see why women flock to him.
He has this effortless sort of charm, and the good looks to go with it.
But when I close my eyes at night, it's never him I picture. It's always Phoenix. "I'll never tell."
"Not even what you wrote about me?" He pouts. "Aw, come on. I promise not to tell."
"You're doing it again."
"Too much?"
"Too much," I confirm.
He just laughs and shrugs like he doesn't give a shit, and this is how I know he isn't really trying to get me to date him.
I highly doubt he acts like this around women he wants to sleep with.
I mean, the man fucks models and actresses on a weekly basis.
There's no way they fall for this hapless, incorrigible devil routine.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Depends on the question."
"Why do you like pushing his buttons so much?" I ask, glancing at Phoenix. He's talking to Bouch on the opposite side of the ice, but I can tell from the tension in his body that he knows Corey is over here, and he isn't thrilled about it.
"Don't know what you mean," Corey says.
"Yeah, you do. You flirt with me just to annoy him."
"Or maybe I flirt with you because you're hot," he says, shooting me a smirk. "Ever think of that?"
I roll my eyes at him. "Sell it to someone willing to buy it, Simms. Why do you two hate each other?"
"We don't hate each other," he says with a chuckle.
"We actually get along pretty well. But he's usually boring as fuck.
It's amusing to see him all bent out of shape.
A little competition is good for him. Gives him something to do other than waste his entire goddamn life slaving away on the ice trying to live up to his dad's name. "
"How magnanimous of you," I say, even though his answer is honestly kind of…
sweet in a weird way. Phoenix does work too hard.
From everything I've learned about him, he's been hyperfocused on the game his entire career, to the exclusion of everything else.
He has no personal life, not really. It's been all hockey, all the time.
Isn't that what freaks me out so much about the way he's pursuing me so relentlessly? It's out of character for him. With Corey, I can write it off because Corey will sleep with anything that moves. But with Phoenix? It's different. And that's terrifying.
"I do what I can." Corey winks at me and then grins again, flashing his dimples. "Seriously, though. If you weren't obviously losing it over him…" He reaches out suddenly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
I freeze in shock, startled by the move as much as by what he just said. Am I really that obvious?
"You are gorgeous, Cara," he murmurs, his thumb touching my cheek. There's something almost…wistful in his expression that catches me off guard almost as much as him touching me. Have I been reading him wrong this entire time?
God, I hope not.
"Corey, I…" I place my hands on the bench to slide away, fully prepared to make sure he knows he and I will never happen. I like him, but in the same way I like my little brother.
"Simms!" Phoenix growls before I can formulate an appropriate response.
I glance up in time to see him throw himself over the boards, his face a thundercloud. His eyes are locked on Corey, his gaze furious.
Shit.
"What the fuck did I tell you?" he practically snarls.
"Don't remember," Corey says, leaning back on his hands to smirk at him. "I was too busy making plans with my girl for tonight to listen. There's this thing I know how to do with my tongue…" He waggles his brows. "She's going to love it, Michaud."
Phoenix growls a curse, charging toward the bleachers.
I scramble out of the way about two seconds before he collides with Corey, knocking him off the bench.
Shouts ring out from the rest of the team as they hit the floor, everyone surging forward at once to stop the fight currently in progress.
But Phoenix and Corey aren't in any hurry to stop.
They roll around, shoving each other, fists flying.
"Stop it!" I cry, my heart thundering in my chest. "Phoenix, he was just kidding! Please, stop!"
He either doesn't hear me or chooses to ignore me. He and Corey roll again, Corey taking an elbow to the ribs.
A shrill blast of sound rips through the arena, followed by a booming roar. "Michaud! Simms! Knock it the fuck off!"
I glance up to see Coach Mitch standing beside their bench with his hands on his hips, his face red with fury, his eyes locked on Phoenix and Corey rolling around at the bottom of the spectator bleachers.
Two of their teammates reach them, hauling Phoenix away from Corey. Phoenix shrugs his shoulders, trying to break free, but Harrison practically has him in a bear hug, refusing to let him go.
"Enough!" Mitch roars.
Phoenix hears him this time. He goes completely still.
Corey sits up, wiping blood from his split lip.
Everyone is dead silent.
"My office," Mitch booms. "Now!"
Harrison slowly releases Phoenix, who turns to me. There's a red spot across his right cheek where Corey hit him, but he doesn't look injured otherwise. Just…mad as hell.
I swallow hard, my gaze breaking from him. Does he really think Corey and I were making plans for tonight? That I'd willingly sleep with Corey?
"Fuck," he mutters, his face falling. "Cara, I…"
"Just go," I whisper, shaking my head.
I know he's still standing there. I feel his eyes burning a hole through me, begging me to look at him. But I can't. I think I might cry if I do. He and Corey just came to blows in front of the entire team.
I want to throw up.
Actually, I want to kill Corey, and then I want to throw up.
What is wrong with him?
Iwait around long enough to find out, haunting the parking lot where the players park like a freaking wraith. An hour after the rest of the team trickles out, Corey comes jogging out, looking like he went three rounds with a bear.
He spots me standing beside my car and slows to a walk. For a split second, something a lot like guilt crosses his face before he plasters his signature arrogant grin on his face.
"Hey, beautiful," he says, loping toward me, the sun glinting in his hair.
I cross my arms, glaring at him. "Does that hurt?" I ask, nodding at his split lip and black eye.
"A bit."
"Good," I sniff. "You deserved it."
He throws his head back, laughing. And then he winces, rubbing his ribs. "Shit. Don't make me laugh. I think he kneed me in the fucking ribs. You here to read me the riot act?"