Olivia.

My heart stopped cold in my chest…and maybe I died for just a second as our eyes locked. I couldn’t read anything on her face…so much for eyes being windows to the soul, but she read me loud and clear as I grimaced and then turned away, skating back to center ice and away from the woman who tore me apart.

All my hurt, all my frustration, and all my anger morphed into something that felt strangely liberating in my chest. I decided right then and there I wouldn’t look back her way for the rest of the game. And I’d show her exactly what she gave up…a man who could be strong and move on like she’d asked me to.

No…correction. She didn’t ask. She forced me. Gave me no choice.

Fuck, that pisses me off!

I was on fire during the game. My legs were strong, my focus honed sharp, and I helped our team sail to a 3–1 victory, getting two goals myself. I let the excitement of the game fill me and my love for the sport soothe my aching soul. And for a brief period of time, I put Olivia out of my mind.

It felt good after the game, having my teammates love on me, hearing the fans screaming as I was named game MVP. I imagined Olivia’s eyes following me as I skated back out on the ice for my acknowledgment lap and wondered if she was feeling any hurt because I refused to acknowledge her. I sort of hoped she did, because as far as I know…by her silence, I can only assume she’s not feeling much of anything for me.

I never hesitated a second before accepting Alex’s request to head over to Houlihan’s for a few beers. I knew Sutton would be there, and I was betting anything that Olivia would be too. It was time to put Operation Forget Olivia into effect, and now was as good a time as any to do it while staring her in the eye. Imagine the fortitude I’d be showing her by moving on with my life right before her.

“Garrett…you were so hot out on the ice tonight,” one of the women says as she lays a hand on my chest. Her words vaguely penetrate, and I reluctantly take my eyes from the door to look at her.

She’s stunning—long, dark hair; chocolate-brown eyes; tits and an ass to die for. The two women with her are equally as beautiful, with model-like faces, tight clothes, and promise in their eyes.

Hmmmm…three women at once? Two had been my record, but maybe it was time to break it.

And involuntarily, my eyes wander to the door again, almost willing Olivia to walk through. With a blast of despair, I realize that no matter if I took ten women home with me tonight who would do nothing but shower pleasure on my body, it would never come close to just one sweet kiss from Olivia.

Anger surges through me again that she would just unilaterally take that away from me, and I stiffen up with resolve.

“Any interest in partying with us tonight?” one of the other women says, and again, once again, my eyes drag away from the door. But just before I turn to answer the bold beauty, I see Olivia walking through with Sutton and Glenn. They start to head back to the restaurant portion of the place, because Glenn wouldn’t be allowed in the bar area. I see Sutton’s eyes connect with Alex’s, who is standing with a few of our other teammates. She inclines her head toward the back and he nods in agreement, and I know he’ll be following them back there to have a quiet beer with the love of his life.

Yeah…not me. I’ll be suffering under three women hitting on me, not a one of them really even fucking of interest to my cock. It hasn’t even perked up once in response to the exposed cleavage or sensual touches being laid upon me as they flirt.

Just fucking great. She not only broke my heart but broke my dick as well.

My gaze goes back to Olivia, and I’m vaguely aware that because I haven’t answered the one woman’s question and instead have been staring at the door, all three women’s heads turn in that direction.

Olivia’s gaze holds me for a minute, then her eyes slide to the women standing around me. The brunette still has her hand on my chest, and it feels foreign to me. I itch to push it off, spare Olivia that image, but I don’t move because I know a tiny part of me wants to hurt her, the way she hurt me.

When her eyes come back to mine, her face is hardened in resolve. She throws her shoulders back and strides right up to me and my sexy crew. A glance toward my posse shows them looking Olivia up and down with disdain on their faces. The brunette steps in closer to me and flexes her fingers, her nails scoring down into my chest.

Olivia gets all up in our space, causing the other two women to step backward. The brunette, however, plasters herself closer to me in propriety. Not even sparing the women a glance, Olivia stares at me with open vulnerability and says, “Can we talk?”

One half of me silently says, Yes. Talk. Kiss. Make love. Whatever you want.

The other half, the half that is still stinging from her rejection, refuses to give her the pleasure. She was brutally silent toward me when she decided to break things off, and it was a pain that I don’t ever want to feel again. Not knowing what was going through her head. Not knowing if the love was all a lie.

This half of me…it wants her to feel the same hurt. That part of me wants to hurt her.

Before I can open my mouth to brush her off, the brunette steps forward a little and gets in Olivia’s face. “Can’t you see he’s busy? Now run along.”

She even makes a shooing motion with her free hand at Olivia, and I notice her fingers are tipped with gaudy, hot-pink, clawlike nails. So tacky.

Olivia, being the mature one, of course, just stares blandly at the brunette for a minute. Then her eyes slide to mine, her eyebrows raised in question to her original request.