Dirty Score, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel(78)

“Are you fucking meditating?”

The familiar grouchy voice pulled Rafe’s head up and to the left. He moved too fast, and his head swam. He pitched sideways and grabbed the nearest doorframe, catching himself.

“You think you can communicate telepathically with her or something?” Tate prodded in that bitchy, condescending tone he used when he was annoyed and fed up. But at least he wasn’t livid. At least he wasn’t coming after Rafe, pinning him to the floor, and beating the shit out of him again. “’Cause if you get down on your knees and start chanting, I’m calling security.”

“Shut up.”

A room door between them opened, and an older man looked out, his face scrunched into an irate scowl. “Both of you shut up. People are still trying to sleep.”

And he slammed the door.

“Not anymore,” both Rafe and Tate said in unison. Then laughed at the same time.

And just like that, the ice was broken. But the chunks were still floating between them, cold and sharp. And Rafe didn’t even care. He just wanted Mia. Only he hadn’t figured out if going after her was the right thing to do.

Rafe walked past the complainer’s room and leaned his hip against the wall between Grumpy’s door and Mia’s. His lifelong friend stood there, far more contrite today. Joe had a way of pulling both him and Tate back to earth quickly. But their fights had always been with others, never with each other. And their fights had never been this extreme, this hurtful, or this personal. Rafe didn’t know what would happen to their friendship, which was another painful spot in his life.

“We were going to tell you—” Rafe started.

“After the season ended,” Tate finished. “I know.”

So he’d talked to Mia. That part was good, though Tate didn’t look relieved or happy or even any more settled.

Rafe added, “And we didn’t mean for it to—”

“Become anything,” Tate completed his sentence again. “Mia told me she seduced you and why.” He paused only a split second before his face compressed into a scowl and his hand whipped out with a rigid finger pointed at Rafe’s nose. “But you still should have said no.”

Rafe lifted both hands in surrender. “I should have. I can’t count how many times I’ve said that to myself over the last couple of weeks.” A moment of awkward silence existed before Rafe asked, “So, did you two—”

“Make up?” He huffed a humorless laugh. “Hardly.” Tate looked at a spot beyond Rafe’s shoulder. “In time maybe…”

That didn’t bode well for Rafe’s chances at forgiveness. His heart dropped even lower.

He pushed off the wall. “I’m gonna go pack. Catch an early flight back. Maybe I can think of something in the next seven to ten hours to say or do that will convince her to at least sit down and talk to me—”

“When did you become such a girl?” Tate asked, giving him a disgusted look. “What’s all this talking shit. ‘Let’s talk about this.’” He lifted his voice to imitate a female. “‘I wanna talk about that.’” His voice dropped to his pissed tone again. “What happened to the guy I knew before Mia got ahold of your balls? The guy who took action when he wanted something? The guy who just shut up and went after it?”

Tate dropped his arms and straightened from the doorframe. “You keep that attitude, and we’re gonna have to change your last name from Savage to Pussy.”

Rafe laughed, relieved to see the return of Tate’s good-natured insolence.

“Go on. Get out of here,” he told Rafe. “But if you want to do that talking bullshit, you’ll have to do it over the phone from the East Coast, ’cause she didn’t go back.”

“What?” Rafe’s attention laser focused again. “Where did she go?”

“To her apartment here. Said there was no reason to go back. Called her boss last night and told him she’d start work early.” Tate turned around and started down the hall toward the elevators. “See you back at home.” But then he stopped and looked at Rafe again. “Oh, and I think this goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway because I’m not going to leave anything left unsaid between us from here on out.” He turned deadly serious again. “You cheat on her, you bail on her, you hurt her in any way, you’ll answer to me. And when you really answer to me, you’ll need to retire, because last night will look like a fucking picnic.”

He walked away and disappeared down another hallway, but Rafe wasn’t thinking about Tate’s threats. He was consumed with the realization that she’d already made up her mind. She’d already turned her back on the possibility of working it out with Rafe. She’d already given up on him.