Twisted Collide: The new sports romance in the Redville Saints series
Twisted Collide: Chapter 26

The only thing I want to do today is go home.

Coach pushed us hard. It’s not that he doesn’t normally push us hard, but this is harder than normal.

Not one of my teammates would understand. Hell, I barely understand, but winning the Cup has been bittersweet.

It shouldn’t be. I do love playing hockey. I’m smart enough to admit my emotions are misplaced, but it feels like a win for him, and even years later, he doesn’t deserve it. But what makes it even harder is I know what I did to get here.

Don’t go there. That road of thought is a dark road, and if I cross into that territory, I might not come back.

I head out of the locker at a slower-than-normal pace.

There is no question that Josephine will be waiting for me the moment I close the door.

“Where are you off to, man?” Hudson says.

“Not home, that’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe Molly loaded your schedule like this and didn’t have the decency to stay in town to help you through it.”

“It’s not her fault I surprised her with a trip.”

He bobs his head. “That’s true. And she probably did you a favor. I’d love to be waited on hand and foot by Coach’s daughter. Fuck, she’s hot.”

I stop dead in my tracks and pivot my body to look at him. Smug little shit.

Despite the two years of friendship, I’m replaceing it hard to remember why I even like him right now. Fine, I liked him much better before Hellfire showed up.

Currently, the only guy on the team I like is Aiden. He’s the only one not making a pass at Josephine.

There’s also the fact that he’s the most like me out of all the guys. He has ghosts.

Secrets he doesn’t share.

Yeah, now I know a few of them, but because of the way he was raised, he knows not to ask me questions about mine.

I move closer, staring Hudson dead in the eye. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

He lifts his hands. “Jeez, man, I was just kidding. What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“What’s got my panties in a bunch? Are you fucking kidding? That’s Coach’s daughter, and she’s off-limits. How many times do I have to remind you of that?”

He narrows his eyes. “It’s more than that, though.” Then, as if he’s had an epiphany, his eyes widen, and a Joker-like grin spreads across his face. “Ah shit, you do like her?”

“What? No.” That didn’t even sound convincing to me.

“That protest sounded weak even for your grumpy ass,” he says.

“Fuck off, Wilde.”

I turn away from him and storm out of the locker room, barreling right into the one person I don’t want to.

My body collides into hers, and I reach my arms out on instinct to steady her.

“Watch—” Her words dry up, and I’m not sure why, but then I realize I have her wrapped protectively in my arms. Our chests touch, and my hands are on her back.

We are so close. I bet she can feel the way my heart beats against hers.

I drop her as if she’s a hot tool, and my hands are burned.

“Watch where you’re going,” she finally says as she rights herself.

“Sorry about that.”

“What’s got you so moody?”

You. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why don’t you speak to your father?” I challenge. One uncomfortable question for another.

“Wow. We aren’t talking about me.”

“Maybe we should be.”

“I see what you’re doing, but I’ll let you in on a little secret: I don’t give up easy. So . . . let’s try this again, what’s got you so moody?”

That’s what I’m afraid of. “If you must know.”

“I must. In my new job, I need to know everything about you.” She practically purrs the words, and I want to growl at her.

“It’s Hudson,” I blurt out.

“Sure it’s not me? Maybe you’re excited to see me.”

“I can promise you, Hellfire, it’s not you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you really need to call me that?”

“Do you really need to follow me around?” I deadpan.

“Yep.”

With a deep inhale, I go to turn around. “Find another job.”

She lifts her arms to her sides as she walks, one foot in front of the other like she’s walking a tightrope. “But then who will help me on the tightrope?”

“Jeez, enough of that shit.”

She shakes her head adamantly. “Now, why would I do that? Every time I do, I see it.”

“See what?”

She lifts her hand and points at my face. “The way your lip twitches.”

“I’m not following you.”

“You want to smile.” She grins back at me and continues to walk.

She keeps moving, and I can feel it happening despite not wanting it to.

She’s right.

I do, and I’m even more annoyed now; not only that she is right, but that she could read me so easily.

“Come on, we don’t have all day,” she calls over her shoulder.

“Where are we going?” I speed up my pace, catching up to her in only a few strides.

“You need to get fitted.”

I furrow my brow. “Fitted for what?”

She stops short, turns to look at me, and then her mouth drops open. “Did you even look at Molly’s spreadsheet? Or Dropbox?”

What’s she going on about? This girl needs to get her expectations in order if she thinks I’m going to spend my time trying to figure out how Molly color-coordinated my life. I shake my head at her. “Why would I do that? That’s your job.”

“And before me? Forget it. You don’t have to tell me; I know, I know. You didn’t look, hence how I got the job.”

Are we really having this conversation right now? In the middle of a damn hallway. Apparently so, by the way she glares at me.

“I had others before you,” I tell her because now I replace the need to defend myself to my damn assistant. What is wrong with me?

“And let me guess . . . you never even gave them the sheet.”

My arms replace their way across my chest. “Well—”

Hers land on her hips. “You didn’t, did you?”

“No.”

“How did you ever expect them to work out if they didn’t have her sheet?” She looks at me, narrowing her eyes. “Oh my God, you didn’t. Those poor, underpaid temps—you didn’t even give them a fighting chance.”

“I didn’t want them,” I respond.

“You don’t want me either.”

“That’s true.” I shrug, placing my hands in my pockets.

“Then why do you bother with me?”

Isn’t that the question of the month? Because you’re beautiful, funny, and make me smile. Fuck. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course you do.” Her eyes challenge me to respond. Dumb move. You won’t like what I’ll say.

“Nope. You’re the coach’s daughter. I’ll never have a choice.” Her face turns pale at my words, and the moment I see it, I regret my words right away. She backs up a step. “Jos . . .”

“Hellfire. Remember.”

She turns her head and continues to walk. “Let’s go. Chop chop. We’re going to be late.”

Two things occur to me.

One: If I want to piss her off, just mention that Coach is her father.

Two: The most shocking, I don’t want to.