Alex (Cold Fury Hockey #1)(103)

         
       
        

Letting out a pent-up breath of disappointment, I say dejectedly, "Sure. I'll be right out."

***

"It's uncanny, really," Garrett says as he takes a huge bite of pizza and gazes at me across the table.

"What's that?" I say, fiddling with my crust but making no effort to take a bite. Garrett's visit was a complete surprise. He suggested we get a bite to eat, so we came to this local pizza joint just a few blocks from my office.

"That 'someone kicked my puppy' look both you and Alex seem to be wearing these days. It sort of brings me down."

Glaring at him across the table, I say, "I'm sorry to be ruining your mood."

He shrugs his shoulders and grins at me. "Just sayin'."

"Why are you here, Garrett?" I ask tiredly.

Setting his slice of pizza down and wiping his hands with his napkin, he leans across the table, resting his forearms on the cracked Formica top. "Because I'm worried about Alex. He won't tell me what happened, just that you broke up."

"That's true enough. Well, he broke up with me. I didn't seem to have a say-so in it." My words are brittle and I can't even bring myself to make the effort to lighten the mood.

"Well, he made a mistake," Garrett says as he sits back and picks up his pizza.

"Then why aren't you having this conversation with him?"

"I intend to," he says with a wicked smile. "I just wanted to talk to you and see how much groveling he'd have to do to win you over."

I blink in surprise, because surely there is no way in hell that Alex Crossman, Most Valuable Prick, would ever grovel to a woman. Besides, I don't want him to grovel. I don't find that attractive.

What I would kill for, though, is for him to realize that he was wrong. That letting me go-letting us go-was wrong. I'd be happy with a few simple words telling me that exact thing.

"He doesn't have to grovel," I voice my thoughts out loud. "I'm not that type of woman."

"Glad to know it," he says around a mouth full of food.

"It's moot anyway. Alex doesn't believe this was a mistake. He believes he needed to do this for the benefit of his career."

"Bullshit," Garrett says loudly and I look quickly around to see if anyone is looking. I mean, outside of the ordinary stares we got when a Cold Fury hockey player walked into this little restaurant.

Lowering my voice, so he'll follow suit, I say, "Why is that bullshit?"

"Because I believe you were one of the best things to happen to him. You got him playing better than ever and loving the game again. I'm not blind or stupid." 

"Again, doesn't matter what you think or what I think … it's what Alex thinks."

"It will matter once I get done with him," he says slyly.

Reaching across the table, I lay my hand on his forearm and when I have his full attention, I say firmly, "Don't. Just don't, okay? Leave him be. He made this decision because it gave him some peace of mind, and it's not up to you or me to take that away from him."

"Don't you still love him?" he asks skeptically.

"Of course I do."

"Then just shut up and let me work my magic."

"I'm not playing around, Garrett," I say, leaning across the table and digging my fingers into his arm. "It's not meant to be."

"Whatever," he says, almost in a pout-like way.

"I'm serious. This is my life. Promise me you won't say anything to Alex."

Garrett stares at me a moment, the look on his face going eventually from annoyance to acceptance. "Fine."

"You swear?"

"Every fucking day," he says with a wink.

"Garrett," I warn.

"Fine. I swear. I won't say anything to Alex."





Chapter 29


Alex


"Dude," Garrett says after he takes a sip of his beer. "We need to talk about Sutton."

I raise my eyebrows at him and peel at the label on my bottle. "What about her?"

"I saw her the other day, and she made me promise I wouldn't say anything, but fuck that … I suck ass at keeping promises."

"Is she okay?" I ask urgently, because all sorts of horrific things run through my mind.

She's sick with cancer, and has only days to live.

Or she got fired.

Or something happened to Glenn. Or Penny. Or Jim-Dad.

"She's fine," he says with a dismissive wave.

My heart rate takes a nosedive upon hearing that and my defenses come into play. "Then there's nothing to talk about."

"Worried about her, huh?" he asks with a devious smile.

"Nope. You just said she was fine."