Page 78 of Ice Cold Heart

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The quiet beep of Avery’s heart monitor kept me company in a stark rhythm. I’d lied to get into the room with her, telling the hospital staff I was her fiancé. Coach surprised me by staying quiet, but he’d made sure she was settled into a room, then disappeared into the hallway.

I’d pulled the only chair up so I could hold her hand, and it was a fight to keep myself from crawling into the bed with her. The image of her sitting on the floor, vulnerable, wielding a hockey stick, wouldn’t leave my mind. Rubbing my thumb back and forth over her skin was enough to remind me she was here and safe.

After about fifteen minutes, Coach came back into the room and stood on the opposite side of Avery with his arms crossed. “The cops came by to ask some questions. They need to talk to her, but I convinced them to come back tomorrow when she’s lucid.”

“What about the doctors?” They’d taken her from me when we first arrived, and we’d been stuck in the waiting room while they examined her, including taking her clothes and dressing her in a hospital gown. She’d want her boots back.

“They said he used Rohypnol mixed with something I didn’t understand to incapacitate her, but she has no other signs of trauma. She’s sleeping off the last of the effects.”

I nodded, relieved, but not surprised. Avery knew her body. She’d taken care of herself even under the influence of the drugs he’d given her.

He glowered at me. “You ready to have that discussion?”

“Yes.” I straightened my spine, prepared to take whatever he doled out. Hockey was a part of me, but I could live without it as long as I had Avery.

“You lied to me.”

“Yes.” I wouldn’t deny it—we’d lied from the beginning.

His brows came together as he stared at Avery’s hand in mine. “You took advantage of her willingness to help you.”

“Yes.” She’d been the one to come up with the deal, but I’d always known I wanted more. I’d have taken any crumbs she’d offered me with the intention of building something with her.

“You put her in danger.” His teeth clenched so hard he could barely get the words out.

“No. I would never put Avery in danger. You can accuse me of plenty of mistakes, but not that one.”

“I asked you to befriend her, take care of her, and look at where she ended up.” He waved at her, then brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I just got her back, and I almost lost her again.”

The sentiment was so similar to what was circling in my head, I took a second to try to understand his point of view. He loved his daughter, just like I did. In the end, he was only trying to protect her the best way he knew how.

“I’m sorry we lied, but we needed time. She needed time. I did befriend her—she’s my best friend. I talk to her every day. I did take care of her. When she was sad or needed somewhere to hide away, I gave her a safe space. When she couldn’t sleep, I gave her my bed. When she wanted to prove she could enjoy sex, I made damn sure I was the only one she experimented with.”

Coach flinched, but he’d wanted to have this conversation. He could deal with the details.

“I love her. More than hockey, more than my family, more than myself. You can call in every favor you’ve ever earned, take away my spot on the team and destroy my career, but nothing would make me leave Avery’s side.”

His lips pressed together as he stared down at his daughter. “Good.”

I frowned. “Good?”

Coach met my eyes, and I was relieved to see the anger had mostly dissipated. “You’re one of the best players I’ve had the pleasure to coach, and as much as I’d have loved some time alone to get to know her, I’m glad she chose you. I’m glad she has someone like you to show her what it means to love.”

The words filled a hole I hadn’t realized was festering. I didn’t like hiding things, especially from someone I respected as much as him, and I wanted his approval. I wanted him to believe I was good enough for his daughter—because I was.

“I think she’s going to need her dad to show her too.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “We’d better not fuck it up.”

The sharp scent of cleanser hit me first, then the weight of a callused hand on mine. I opened my eyes to meet Cole’s warm brown gaze, and the fuzzy memories snapped into place in my mind. Scott. The party. The impersonal gray house. Telling Cole I loved him.

I sucked in a breath and sat up, pleasantly surprised to find my headache gone. The only lasting effect of my ordeal seemed to be lingering nausea, but Cole frowned at my sudden movement.

“Take it easy. You’re in the hospital.”

I scanned the room, noting my dad sitting in a chair by the window, watching the exchange. It was way too late to try to salvage our secret, but I didn’t want to make things worse by throwing my deception in his face.