My phone buzzedwith another fraud alert. I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the button to report it.
A bottle of whiskey sat on my nightstand, already half-empty. I’d told myself I was done drinking after the fight, then again once I found out Eva was okay, then again after Tristan got back, but here I was again, chasing oblivion at the bottom of a glass because it was easier than facing what kind of man I’d become—a man just like my fucking father.
Even if she deserved everything she got, the fucking bitch.
Another alert, this time for a federal database. My jaw clenched. What the fuck was she planning?
I had a game tomorrow. Coach would lose his shit if he knew I was drinking again.
The phone kept fucking buzzing. This time, it was a laptop, an expensive one.
I took a pull from the bottle, the burn sliding down my throat, numbing everything it touched.
If I were that bitch, I’d be getting ready to call a reporter and tell them everything about two hockey stars and theirvengeful coach wrecking her life just for the fuck of it. I’d be crying victim to anyone who’d listen.
Except she hadn’t told a fucking soul. The team didn’t know. Her friends didn’t know. Even Massi, who’d taken my credit card a few days ago, didn’t know the half of it.
The phone buzzed again. Why did she need two non-smartphones?
My finger hovered, ready to report the fraud. One tap, and this would all stop. I could hurt her like she’d hurt me, make her life a little harder, prove she couldn’t betray me and walk away without consequences, that she couldn’t use me like I’d used her.
I shoved that thought away and took another drink.
The phone buzzed a final time, this time a subscription to a site that did background checks.
My heart pounded, the alcohol making everything feel distant and immediate at the same time.
Eva was planning something, something big enough that she needed legal databases and burner phones.
I could stop her with one phone call.
Instead, I swiped “Accept Charges” and took another drink.
My bedroom was too quiet, too empty. Tristan was down the hall, and so were our other teammates. He’d updated them when he’d stumbled in, exhausted from following Eva home from the hospital in New York.
I turned my phone face down on the nightstand and took another drink.
Fuck tomorrow’s game.
My phone lit up again, and I approved the charge.
All I could think about was Eva’s green eyes, the way she’d looked at me like I was a monster, the way she’d driven into a fucking snowstorm to get away from us.
The phone kept buzzing.
Let her spend as much as she wanted. She could burn through my entire trust fund for all I fucking cared. It wouldn’t change the fact that she was a liar.
As long as she was alive and breathing and safe and?—
I took another drink and closed my eyes.
Fuck her.
Fuck this.
Fuckme.
14