Blocker (Seattle Sharks 5)

But when was the last time I backed down? Got scared? Let someone else make my choices for me?

Never. And I wasn’t starting now.

“I choose all. Where the fuck is she?”

A slow smile spread across Ivy’s face.

“Now that is the fun part.”

Chapter 21

Pepper

“Ohmigod,” Ivy said, gaping at me. “I really am the worst sister.”

I blinked out of my daze, the world coming back into screaming focus.

Excited chatter echoed off the walls from the hundreds of bodies crowding the massive building we were packed into.

“No, you’re not,” I said, though I couldn’t deny how deflated my voice sounded. “You’re the best. I don’t know how to thank you for scoring these VIP passes.” I tugged at the lanyard around my neck, hating that the black and yellow lettering didn’t thrill me as much as it should.

“Please don’t lie to me,” she said, hooking her arm through mine to yank me out of the way of three of the Avengers who walked by. “This is your world,” she continued. “You should be in heaven. Look,” she said, pointing across the room. “There are two Captain America’s, a Hulk, some other green dude I don’t remember the name of, and at least three Iron—” She clamped her mouth shut, pain cracking her eyes as they fell to the floor.

She wasn’t wrong—this comic-con was in full swing and I should be wiping drool off my chin and fangirling all over the place. Hell, she’d even used her press pass to score us VIP tickets to watch RDJ on the Iron Man panel.

But even thinking that name stung each cell in my body.

A week.

One week since I played the villain and ruined Eric’s and my future so he could actually have a future.

The most miserable days of my life—having to watch him at the games, having to track his movements, his blocks, his…everything.

Torture had been redefined when he would barely even look at me.

Because I’d played my part so well, and he’d believed me so easily.

The ache in my chest was raw and sliced and gaping.

But, Ivy had gone above and beyond in her attempt to make amends, and I needed to give her the credit she deserved.

“Hey,” I said, nudging her so she’d look at me. “I’m sorry I’m being a total Debbie Downer.” She smiled a bit at that. “I’m here. I’m grateful. I’m—”

“Heartbroken,” she cut me off, her eyes filled with apology as she shook her head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t understand. I had break-up-blinders on and was terrified you’d get burned too.”

“Ivy,” I said. “You don’t have to apologize again. Twenty-seven times is plenty,” I teased her. “Besides.” I sighed. “Like I said, it’s better this way.” I’d told her that over and over, so many times, trying to make myself believe it. “Did I love him?” I nodded. “Absolutely. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” My throat cracked and I cleared it. “But,” I continued. “He deserved more. Deserved his contract and his life without the strain of a secret relationship, or a public one that would get him fired.”

Simmering heat rushed through my blood—I understood Dad’s position, but I would never like it.

“And,” I said. “I would do anything to make sure that bright future happens.”

“Even destroy yourself.” Ivy didn’t pose it as a question but simply matter of fact.

“Yes.”

“God,” Ivy said. “He was the one.”

Pain lanced through my broken heart.

This past week without him, it was wicked easy to see just how much the one he was. I missed him like I missed breathing. Like, in ending us, I’d chopped off a vital piece of myself I’d never get back, yet I kept wandering around aimlessly hoping to find it.

I pressed my lips together. “Timing is a bitch,” I said, like that could encompass the hurt scraping my insides raw.

I’d kept myself up nights, wondering what it would’ve been like if I’d met Eric in the off-season. If we’d had the time and space to figure out just how much we meant to each other. Figure out if we wanted to take the leap into the limelight. Wanted to stay together…forever.

Maybe if we’d been anyone but who we were—me, a coach’s daughter, and him, an all-star hockey player destined for greatness.

In another life, we may have been happy.

Like, Deadpool and Vanessa happy.

“We better head that way,” Ivy said, motioning toward where a line had already formed outside the RDJ panel room.

My feet planted against the slick tile floor.

Three weeks ago, I would’ve shoved my way through that gaggle of tweens in order to get in line first.

Okay, maybe not shoved, but I would’ve shown up eons earlier to beat them there.

Now?

The thought of Iron Man simply reminded me of what I’d lost. What I’d pushed away and threw in the garbage.

I’m such an idiot.

A near-perfect purple Thanos cosplayer walked in front of us as we moved toward the line. I was no better than him—the most merciless bastard in the MCU. Someone who did awful things in the name of a better world.

I rolled my eyes at myself.

Pity party much?

I rubbed my neck, forcing myself to be rid of the nasty, negative karma, and move on. At least for the next couple hours.

Ivy had pulled so many strings to get us in here, and I still didn’t understand how her internship had managed to pull this kind of power, but I needed to get a grip and appreciate the day for what it was.

A brilliant, painful distraction.

I wish Eric was here.

I couldn’t stop the thought. The image of him by my side, poking fun at my cosplay—which, had I been myself, would’ve been a female Deadpool.

He would’ve teased me about it before whispering promises of how he’d relish shedding me of the tight outfit later. Chills would’ve burst on my skin and an ache would’ve wrenched between my thighs. I would’ve kissed him, hard and hungry, not caring for a second who saw it.

“They’re opening the doors!” Ivy clapped her hands together as she squealed, and I arched a brow at her as we followed the line inside. “What?” She asked, dropping her hands.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I asked as we were ushered to our VIP seats, in the front freaking row.

“Yes, of course. Why?”

I took a seat beside her, marveling at the large stage, at the long, black-cloth covered table with printed name-cards dictating each seat.

Holy shit.

We would be literally feet away from RDJ.

“I don’t know,” I said, finally answering her. “You’ve never been excited about any of this stuff before.”

“I’m excited for you,” she said. “Isn’t that enough?”

There was a

twinkle in her eye that didn’t add up, and my twin-Spidey-sense was tingling. She focused on the empty stage, going out of her way to not look at me.

“Ivy,” I said, drawing out her name. “What did you do?”

She gaped at me before shaking her head. “You mean besides score these amazing seats?” she pointed to the insane proximity we’d be to the celebs.

Air rushed out of my lungs.

She was right. I was reading into everything. Misjudging everyone, simply because I was angry with myself.

“These are amazing,” I said, my eyes continuously flashing up to that RDJ card. With each pass, a little bit of awe and excitement built around the coldness in my heart. “Thank you, again,” I said.

“That’s better,” she said, teasing me as her knee bounced uncontrollably.

Maybe she really was excited and too prideful to admit it.

After a few minutes, the room had finally filled each of its seats, and the bouncers closed the doors. A few minutes more, the room darkened, and the stage lit up.

“They’re starting early,” I said, tilting my head. “It’s not supposed to start for another half-hour.”

That was the half the fun of these panels. The waiting, the anticipation, the slow burn until they finally allowed the actors and directors to come out on stage.

“Maybe they wanted to surprise you…the audience…us,” Ivy rattled off in time to her knee bouncing.

I furrowed my brow at her, my mouth open and ready to sniff out what I sensed, but the crowd went wild.

Cheers and claps and whoops and hollers erupted as a man in a full Iron Man costume came out on stage.

I doubted it was RDJ because, while the costume was worth a pretty penny, it wasn’t a production piece.

A mic in one hand, the man was likely there to get the crowd even more riled up before the actors came out.

Like that was necessary—well, for the normal fans minus broken hearts it definitely wasn’t.

Ivy reached over and squeezed my wrist, a giant smile on her face, her eyes glittering.

“Okay, what the hell—”

Iron Man raised his hand, waving at the crowd to calm.