Power Play (Nashville Assassins: Next Generation Book 2) Read online

  His lips curve more, his eyes bright. “I love you too, Posey. I miss you ter—”

  I shake my head, cutting off his words. “No. I’m in love with you.”

  He narrows his eyes in confusion. “What?”

  “I’m in love with you. Have been for a while.” I take a deep breath as I gaze up at him. He is just staring at me, this puzzled look on his face. “I came here to be with you. I want to be a part of your life. I want to see if this can work. I feel that we—”

  “Posey,” he says, cutting me off, and I press my lips together. “I am flattered, but I don’t feel that way about you.”

  Oh, look. There’s my heart, shattered on the ground. “What? But—”

  “Surely you didn’t think I did? I never acted as such.”

  “We slept in the same bed.”

  “Because we are friends. A sleepover, yes?”

  Oh, the smart Posey who is watching this is urging me to turn away. But the dumb Posey says, “You said I was pretty.”

  “You are,” he says, squeezing my hand. “But I’m not attracted to you.”

  I pull it from his grip, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Please don’t take offense. I care for you greatly.”

  I shake my head, and all at once, my feelings are crushing me. “But you don’t love me.”

  “No, I don’t,” he says softly, and I feel as if he is staring a hole in my face. “You are a good girl, a great friend, but I don’t like you like that.”

  “You like Stella?”

  He nods. “Very much so. She is more my type.”

  “Because I’m not.”

  He holds up his hands. “No, I don’t mean it that way. You are a very pretty girl, Posey, but not my type.”

  I close my eyes as I turn away. I open them again and focus in on his bare feet, and the petty part of me wants to step on his toes. Make him feel the pain coursing through my body.

  “I think of you as a sister.”

  Well, talk about a slap in the face.

  I tear my gaze from his bare feet and up to his beautiful face. Even through my tears, I find him stunning. My eyes settle on his lips. I hate that I never got to kiss him. “A sister,” I say, drawing out the words.

  He grins, and it’s as if he doesn’t realize he is wrecking my world. “Yes, my little, awesome sister.”

  It’s funny that the one part of him I’ve always wanted to press my lips to is now, basically, a weapon.

  A weapon causing the demise of my heart.

  Chapter Two

  Boon

  I stand against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest, trying not to blow up.

  My buddy Wesley McMillan stands beside me as we watch my ex-fiancée, and her new fiancé, carry her big furniture out of my house. We could help, but I’d rather take a puck to the junk than do that. It has been over a year since Julia moved out, and when she did, I had agreed to hold on to her larger furniture for her. She went on and on about how she didn’t have anywhere to put her grandmother’s old stuff. I happened to love her grandmother, had been there to bury her, so I’d agreed. I’d also felt bad since I had chosen my career over our relationship, when she’d demanded I pick one or the other. I never saw this ending, but apparently she couldn’t handle my career any longer. Figured that was my fault, so I kept the furniture temporarily.

  I didn’t find out about the cheating until about a month later. After doing so, I wanted to set all her shit on fire. My mom said I couldn’t, said it would bring me down to the cheating whore’s level. Since it was the only time I’d ever heard my mom use the word whore, I refrained. But I couldn’t believe what Julia had done. I had been with this woman for a huge part of my adult life. We met right out of high school when we’d gone to the same college. We were just friends in then, but she didn’t miss any of my home hockey games. Our families became close, our best friends got married after meeting each other, and when I proposed, she promised me her forever. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but one day, she decided I wasn’t enough and left.

  I wasn’t “there” for her.

  I was emotionally unavailable.

  She thought we were better apart.

  In my defense, I was there as much as I could be—hello, professional hockey player. Also, I’ve always been emotionally unavailable. Yeah, I come from a broken home and all that jazz, but that’s not the reason I don’t show emotion.

  I don’t show emotion because I don’t want to. And if we were better apart, then why did we spend three fucking years together?

  When I found out she was engaged to the guy she had cheated on me with, I realized she was right. We were better apart because I never would have cheated on her. Had the chance to do so left and right, but I never took it. Because I didn’t fucking want it. I only wanted her. The guy she is engaged to was one of my non-hockey-playing buddies, Phil. We met at a foundation dinner with the hockey team I play pro for, the Nashville Assassins. Phil was a cool dude, really smart, helped me with the investments I had made to prepare for Julia’s and my future. What I didn’t realize was he wasn’t planning for my future but for his. With my girl. I found out about her and Phil in an Instagram post of him on one knee, proposing to her.

  I have loved her for a year, and she has said yes.

  A year?

  We had only been broken up for six months.

  Oh, the rage. I felt it in my soul. I was ready to drop below her level and set everything on fire, including him. But for some reason, I didn’t. I may have seen my life with her, but at least it all ended before we were married with dogs and kids. I can handle my broken heart, but it’s hard to handle one belonging to a dog or a kid. I still don’t know how my mom did it when my dad left her, but she did. So, I channeled my awesome single-mother vibes, and I took my frustrations out on the ice. Every opponent was a team full of Julias and Phils. It brought me great pleasure, slamming my bodies into them. In the end, because of my ruthless play, I helped bring the Cup home.

  Lost a fiancée, but replaced her with one sexy-ass Stanley Cup ring.

  One would think this shit today wouldn’t suck because of that, but it still does.

  I watch as Julia takes box after box to the front door. She still looks as gorgeous as she did the day I met her. Her blond hair is short, in a bob that brings out the angles of her face. She has thin lips and pink cheeks. I’ve always teased her for her brown eyes, saying she’s full of shit. Or maybe I was predicting the future. She’s super trim and always has been. She hardly eats, and it used to drive me crazy, but her mom is the same way. They’re all so prim and proper. She grew up with old blue-blooded money, but she wasn’t snooty. Her parents loved me, even though I came from a broken home and wanted to play pro hockey. I bought this house for us, for our life together, but now, it’s a bachelor pad for Wes and me.

  Oh, how the tides turn.

  As I watch Phil struggle with one of her grandmother’s old chairs, I scrunch up my face. Phil is older than me, in his late thirties, and has gray hair. He’s on the heavier side, but he’s not bad-looking. He’s actually handsome, not as good-looking as me, but not awful, obviously. He’s also loaded. I tell myself it’s not the money, because hello, I have money and so does she. Because of that, I’m unsure what makes him better than me. The only thing I can come up with is he is around to worship her constantly and openly. I don’t show my feelings very well, but I did worship her, and I thought I made her feel special, but obviously not.

  When Phil reaches out, cupping the back of her neck, I want to break his arm.

  “That’s all the boxes, princess?”

  Princess. What in the ever-loving hell?

  Julia nods. “Yeah. I think that’s everything.” She then looks at me. “If you help us with these last few boxes, we’ll be out of here sooner.”

  I don’t move, but Wes, the good dude he is, comes off the wall where he’s been leaning. “Yeah. Let me do that before Boon comes unglued.”

&nbs