Hard Pass (St. Louis Mavericks 3)

“Hey, Sariah.”

I looked up, surprised to see Eric Alvarado standing there. I barely knew him and we’d never exchanged more than a few hellos.

“Hi, Eric.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something. You have a minute?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Not here.” He headed around the corner to where the coaching staff offices were, and a bit quieter. The hallway was empty since everyone was busy with the press and such, and I wondered what this was about.

“What’s going on?” I asked him.

“This is kind of awkward,” he said, scratching his chin. “But I feel bad, so I figured I should tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“I overheard something in the locker room, and I normally wouldn’t rat out my teammates, but what Nash is doing is inappropriate.”

My stomach clenched painfully as I could only imagine what Nash had told his teammates about last night. I never dreamed he would do something so vile.

I was going to kill him.

“So…” He cleared his throat.

“What about Nash?” I felt like I might puke but I wouldn’t let him see how terrified I was.

“You’ve been talking to some guy online named Rob, right?”

How the fuck did Eric know about Rob?!

I could only stare, completely blindsided. “H-how do you know that?”

“Because Rob is really Nash.”

Our eyes met and I squinted. “What?”

He blew out a breath. “I heard him telling one of the other guys how he had this scam going with you. At first I thought it was kind of harmless and fun, none of my business, but then I heard you guys were getting cozy at the club and I realized it wasn’t just an online thing anymore.”

“I…” There were no words because my chest felt like it was on fire. “I don’t believe you,” I said at last.

He shrugged. “Ask him. You can also check the phone number you have for Rob against the team directory. You’ll see I’m telling the truth. Anyway, I thought you should know. Do what you want with the information.” He turned and headed back toward the lounge, and I stared after him, sick and horrified and furious.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts and then I followed in the direction Eric had gone.

Nash and Lars were coming down the hall laughing, and I walked right up to him, my heart hammering against my rib cage.

“You and I have to talk,” I hissed. “Right. Fucking. Now.”

Lars gave Nash a funny look but quickly walked away and Nash frowned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

I stared at him. “Do you have dogs, Nash?”

He looked confused. “Uh, what?”

“Simple question. Do. You. Have. Dogs.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Uh, yeah.”

“How many?”

“Sariah, what—”

“Just answer the fucking question.”

He looked sheepish as he answered, which was an answer in itself. “Three.”

“Archie, Louie, and Athena, right?” If we’d been anywhere else, I would have slapped him across the face. “You son of a bitch.”

“Sariah—”

“I can’t believe it. Eric was telling the truth.”

Nash’s gaze narrowed and he scowled. “What the fuck did Eric tell you?”

“That you’re Rob. My Rob. The Rob I’ve been texting for two months. And you’re a lying bastard.” My fists were clenched at my side.

“I was going to tell you,” he whispered, reaching for my arm.

I wrenched it away from him before he could touch me. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Sariah, please let me explain…” He looked sad and genuinely contrite, but that wasn’t my problem. Not after what he’d done.

I turned on my heel and headed for the elevators.

I was a thousand percent done with Nash fucking Reilly.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Nash

* * *

“Come on, Sariah, we need to talk. I was an asshole and I fully admit that. I’m sorry and I just want to explain. Call me back.”

I ended the call, put the phone back in my pocket and walked back into the bar the team was celebrating at. Since Sariah confronted me after the game, I’d sent around a dozen texts and left two voice mails, but she was ignoring me.

Fuck. I should’ve told her. In all the times I’d imagined clever ways to tell her once she was thoroughly taken by me in a couple of months, I’d never considered she’d find out like this.

Eric Alvarado was going to be sorry. What I’d been doing to him so far was just hazing a rookie for funsies, but he’d crossed a line. Teammates were supposed to have each other’s backs. I knew some shit about guys I’d played hockey with over the years, and I wouldn’t have dreamed of repeating any of it.

“Drink this,” Boone said, passing me a shot as I walked back to our table in the bar.

“What is it?”

He lowered his brows. “Who cares? Just drink it.”

I’d been nursing a single beer since we got here, because I wanted to be able to drive if Sariah picked up the phone. I shook my head at my teammate.