Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Furious, I snarl at him. “You need to leave now, or I’m calling the police. You are not wanted here, nor do you have any right to be here.”
Thankfully, Rafe remains silent, and I’m grateful because just one word from him could whip up Grant’s temper. But, apparently, my threat to call the police has some effect because Grant glares at me before spinning on his foot and muttering, “Don’t know why I put up with you, crazy bitch…”
His words were loud enough for Rafe to hear. While we may have been broken up for the past eight years, I know the man well, and I know how he was raised. He’ll never stand for a man calling a woman a bitch.
I spin quickly toward Rafe, and just as I did with Grant, I slam my hands to his chest and warn him, “Don’t even think about it.”
Rafe leans into me, his eyes hot on Grant, but he heeds my warning. I glance over my shoulder, and I’m relieved to see Grant getting into his car. He cranks it, revs the engine until it whines in a vulgar display of male ego, and then he peels out of the driveway, proving that he’s a child and that it was a good thing I broke up with him.
“What a fucktard, Calliope,” Rafe mutters with condescension, and I whip my gaze back to him. “Seriously…what did you see in him?”
I give Rafe a hard push he’s not expecting. He takes two steps back and gives me an astonished look.
“You’re as big an asshole as he is,” I growl at him. “And it’s none of your business what I may or may not have seen in him.”
“Why are you angry at me?” he asks, completely oblivious. “I had your back, you know.”
“Because it’s not your place to have my back anymore,” I retort, pointing an angry finger at him. “You lost that right eight years ago when you dumped me without an explanation.”
Instantly, Rafe’s eyes fill with regret, and the sympathetic look he gives me causes my anger to boil over. “I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t,” I exclaim, holding one palm out to him. “Don’t you dare try and apologize to me now. You lost that right, too. And, besides…it’s too late.”
Rafe’s mouth shuts, but he still regards me with regret written all over his face. I can’t stand it.
I move past him and make my way back into Brenda and Jim’s house. I’m going to have my cup of tea like I would on any other occasion while visiting. Then I’m going to ignore this man who still manages to provoke me and stretch all my emotions to the extreme.
CHAPTER 5
Rafe
I step out onto the ice, joining my team for pre-game warmup to the screams of fans and blaring rock music. I returned home to Raleigh a week ago, and much has happened since. I’ve assimilated well with the Cold Fury, and I’m getting ready to play in my third game for my new team. It’s the fifth game of this playoff round, and I’m confident that we can seal the deal tonight.
Each round of the Cup playoffs is seven games, and the first team to win four takes the round. The Cold Fury earned home-ice advantage, so the first two games—which we won—were in Raleigh. The next two games were in Toronto, my first to play with the team, and we split those, losing a heartbreaker in overtime the night before last. Tonight, we’re back on home ice, and we’re up three games to one. We’re determined and fired up for victory. Sometimes, you could just feel it in your bones.
I’m on a little bit of a high tonight. Got a call from one of my former teammates, Aaron Wylde, this afternoon. He called to check in on me. I’ve received dozens of calls, texts, and emails from many of my Vengeance teammates, but Wylde has reached out the most. He went through something similar off the ice, so more than anyone else, he understands the myriad emotions I’m feeling. I’m really grateful for his concern, and he’s been a great source of valuable advice on how to process everything.
The one thing he can’t help me with are the feelings I have regarding Calliope. Wylde’s never had a serious relationship…never been in love. He has no interest in settling down, and thus can’t comprehend how I’ve gone years carrying a torch for one woman. Not that any of my former teammates really know that. I never told any of them about Calliope and how I left her behind. I never divulged that she was my one true love, and the different women they saw me date over the years were nothing compared to her.
As I skate around the ice, letting my legs acclimate, my eyes scan the arena—the section between the upper and lower decks where I know my parents will be—and I try to discern if Calliope is with them. I left a ticket for her, leaving it up to my mom to pass on the invitation to tonight’s game, but I have no clue if she accepted. We haven’t exactly been on speaking terms since I stepped on her toes when her douche of an ex-boyfriend showed up. That was six days ago, and for almost four of those days, I was in Toronto playing the two road games. I have no clue what she’s feeling, or if we’re even back on speaking terms.