Torn Apart (Torn and Bound Duet 1)

Brayden rolls his eyes, but I ignore him, continuing with my speech. “I’ve played hockey my entire life, including three years in the pros. I need you to trust me. Every decision I make may not be the popular one, but it’s being done with one goal in mind. To get you guys to the end.”

Brayden lets out a sarcastic snort that has all the guys looking at him.

“You have something you want to add?” I ask him.

He sneers. “I just think it’s funny that we’re being led by a guy who couldn’t even make it three full seasons in the NHL. We’re supposed to trust you to get us to a championship, yet when shit got tough, you bailed.” He glares at me with what looks like resentment. “Trust is earned, Drew, and until you prove yourself, you can’t expect any of us to trust you.”

The guys murmur at his words, shocked that a player would blatantly disrespect a coach the way he is. I could accuse him of such, force him to skate laps, but I don’t because it will only prove what he’s trying to imply. So instead, I step closer to him and say to the team, “In case you didn’t know, Bray and I have a history. Go way back. That was until he came here and I went to the pros, where I won two rings.”

“And then quit halfway through the third season,” Brayden adds. “How do we know you’re not going to quit on us?”

His eyes are now filled with raw emotion and my heart cracks in my chest. I hurt the man in front of me. We had plans and I walked away. No, I ran. I ran from Brayden, from our friendship. He’s right. Shit got rough and I quit, and now it looks like I quit the NHL, even though that’s not completely true.

“You’re right,” I tell him. “I have to prove myself, and I’ll work every day to do that. To earn your trust, but you’re going to have to meet me halfway.”

Brayden’s and my eyes stay locked on each other for several seconds, and I think maybe he’s going to come around and give me a chance. But then he breaks our stare.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Are we going to stand around here having a heart-to-heart like little girls, or are we going to actually practice?”

And with his words, it feels like we just took one step forward and two back.I glare down at my phone.

He’s being weird. Ashton is a lot of things, but not usually weird. Something’s up and the next time I see him face to face, I’m going to find out. I reread his text for the third time before replying.

Ashy C: I need you to tutor someone today. I owe you.

Me: Who? Why? Since when?

Ashy C: Are you studying to be a lawyer?

Me: No, dumbass. You know that.

Ashy C: Then stop cross-examining me.

I roll my eyes and huff.

Me: Come by and see me.

Ashy C: Can’t.

Me: Too busy ogling Drew?

Ashy C: Something like that. Dude bro will be by in twenty.

My phone nearly drops out of my hand.

Me: Twenty minutes? What the hell? Who is it? What subjects am I helping with?

Ashy C: An athlete on academic probation. I REALLY owe you. I’ll rub your stinky feet next time I come over.

Me: You’re in trouble.

Ashy C: You have no idea.

I set my phone down and go back to typing my paper that’s due at the end of the week, when Sasha sits down in front of me. “Haven’t seen you since the other night at The Lodge.”

“That’s because you skipped class.” I drop my gaze back to my work, hoping she’ll get the hint and go away.

“It’s a waste of my time,” she says. “I can pass that class in my sleep.”

I make a noncommittal noise, focusing on my work.

“So, that guy from the other night…” she starts, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to out me. “What happened?”

I release a harsh sigh of relief, thankful she’s just being nosy and doesn’t actually know the guy I left with the other night is the same guy who’s now employed at Atlantic Pointe.

“Nothing.” I shrug a shoulder, still refusing to give her my full attention. “We didn’t really click… went our separate ways.”

“Hmm…” she says, making me glance up at her. “Maybe you weren’t his type.” She raises a single brow, and I mentally roll my eyes at her subtle dig. Based on the way he was all over me, I would say I was definitely his type.

“Maybe not… Either way, nothing happened.” Lie.

She eyes me curiously for a long moment. “We’re throwing a party at the house this weekend. Invite only…”

“We’ll see,” I tell her. “I have a lot of schoolwork to do.” Her eyes widen in shock that I would dare turn her down, and I immediately regret my words, remembering why I’m doing this: so my parents won’t be as disappointed in me as they already are.