Page 67 of Bad Wolf
I do nothing but stare at her and try to remember, but my head is a jumbled mess as I attempt to make sense of it all. Adrenaline courses through my veins with this new information, but it won’t compute. The scene flickers like the end of an old movie reel, getting distorted and re-focusing with every breath I try to fill my lungs with.
My mind races and my heart pumps so fast it’s going to give out any second.
“I’m sorry. Knox, I’m so sorry!”
It’s not until I slam the door behind me, fly down the stairs and am finally out on the quiet rain-soaked city street that I let go of the biggest sob I’ve ever heaved.
She didn’t fucking do it.
Knowing is worse.
Knowing she was trying to protect me. Knowing she hurt herself in the process. Knowing it all could have been avoided. I wasn't playing college hockeyyet. I could have deferred—we could have gone to the authorities or toldmydad. This could have played out in so many different ways.
She didn't need to deal with any of it by herself. We were a team.
My chest feels unbearably heavy as those walls reinforce around my heart. The fractures cemented and filled. They’re twice as solid now.
Learning the truth is so, so much worse.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
WREN
It’s beenthree days since Knox stormed out of Scott’s front door. I thought he just needed time to cool off, but I just watched the Caps absolutely obliterate the Wolves’ and he played like shit.
Jason texted me after the game saying I needed to finish this once and for all. I told him I’d feel like a stalker creeping around their apartment uninvited, but the text he replied with was,
Jason: This is me inviting you to come and deal with my asshole brother. I’ll leave the door unlocked. Get it done, Wren.
Not sure what I can say that I haven’t already, but here I am in their fancy elevator, riding it to their floor.
It’s quiet as I tentatively push on the door his brother told me he would leave unlocked. It's good to know his family is on my side.
As soon as I walk in, I’m assaulted by an onslaught of scents. Mint hits first, followed by what the ocean smells like on a light summer breeze, but it’s the strongest scent of all, what I now associate with Knox, that has my stomach flipping summersaults.
The apartment itself is absolutely gorgeous, although it’s definitely got a masculine vibe. Deep, comfy-looking, leather couches, monochrome artwork. A team pennant and other Wolves paraphernalia, but it’s…tidy.
Sure, there are sports magazines piled haphazardly on the coffee table, game controllers charging on a flashing dock, and a couple of empty water bottles, but that’s it. That’s the only indication that three bachelors live here.
The door closes with a silent click, and I quietly take my shoes off. Moving slowly across the spacious apartment, I head towards Knox.
I find what I’ve come for in a huge, sleek leather armchair on the other side of the room. Just his head poking over the top, facing the glittering New York skyline.
When I finally round on the chair and stare down at him, he continues to gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows, unblinking. Dressed in a sharp black dress shirt, top three buttons undone, black silk tie hanging loosely around his neck and falling to either side of his delicious chest. His hair is a wreck—like he’s run his hands through it a million times and his knuckles are scraped from yet another fight on the ice.
I don’t recognize the dark and broody man sitting before me, all the Madden charm tamped down by a heaviness even his strong shoulders can’t bear.
“Knox.”
He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he tips his almost empty glass up to his perfect lips and drains off the amber liquid, his throat working until he sighs.
Then without so much as taking his eyes off the view, he reaches down for the bottle of high-end whiskey and refills his glass, missing what would be the two-finger mark, and blowing past three.
“Ace. Talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours? Jason is so worried.”
He scoff, but I’m not sure if it’s the use of his nickname or the thought of Jason’s concern. He takes another pull of his drink.
“I know it feels like I’ve hurt you all over again and I’ll do anything to have a conversation with you. Please, I’m begging you, let’s talk this out. It wasn’t only you, remember? Scottwasplaying in college and there was Casey’s impending NHL contract to think about too.”