Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Her eyes widen, and I can practically see the walls going up. “North…”
“Think about it,” I say quickly, holding up a hand before she can object. “Rafferty’s already talking about you paying rent. You could stay here rent-free. You’d have your own room if that makes it less weird.” I smirk. “We’d be like roommates. Roommates with benefits.”
Farren laughs, but it’s a nervous sound, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. “North, that’s… I don’t know.”
“What’s there to know?” I press, my voice soft but firm. “You’d save money, Rafferty would have private time with Tempe when she visits, and I’d get to see your face more often. Everybody wins.”
She hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the cup in her hands. “It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is,” I say, shrugging.
“No, it’s not. That’s taking it to the next level. It means it’s getting more serious, and I don’t do serious.”
“No,” I counter with a long drawl. “It means I’m making it more convenient for myself to have your sexy body near me. That means I can have you more often and merely plays into the whole sex-with-no-strings thing that you so clearly value. Just think about it, okay?”
Her gaze meets mine, and for a second, I think she might bolt. But instead, she nods slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
We settle back into the couch, the conversation lingering in the air like a third presence between us. On the screen, the Titans are fighting hard, the game tied at one goal apiece. Penn’s line is on the ice, and I watch as he battles for the puck in the corner, his movements sharp but uncharacteristically reckless.
“That was a risky play,” Farren comments, her brow furrowed.
I nod, watching as Penn takes a hit that sends him sprawling. He’s back on his skates in seconds, but instead of resetting, he charges after the guy who knocked him down.
“What the hell is he doing?” I wonder as Penn shoves the guy hard, earning a shove back. They exchange words, and before I know it, gloves are off and Penn is throwing punches.
“Oh my God,” Farren says, sitting up straighter. “Why is he fighting? He can’t afford to take chances like that.”
“Exactly,” I say grimly, watching as the refs step in to break up the brawl. “Centers are too valuable to risk injuries like that. This isn’t Penn.”
“Yeah, but who exactly is Penn? There’s all this mystery surrounding him, he keeps himself cut off from the team and now his behavior is becoming erratic. What I don’t understand is how all of you can just sit back and do nothing.”
I sit up straighter on the couch, her accusing words a low blow. “What would you have us do?”
“Ask him what’s wrong. Offer to help him. Go to the coach with your worries. Any number of things.”
A wave of guilt sweeps through me. I had thought we were doing the right thing by encouraging him to come out with us and maintaining at least a good rapport on the ice, but maybe there’s more we could be doing.
“An intervention?” I ask curiously.
“Maybe,” she muses, nabbing her phone from the coffee table. Her fingers fly over the screen. “But first, what do we really know about him?”
I recite facts that I know from his bio, but Farren ignores me as she flips through articles on her screen. I keep one eye on the game, one eye on her.
“What’re you doing?” I ask.
“Research,” she says distractedly. “There has to be something that can clue us in.”
I don’t say anything, just watch—my attention diverted periodically to the game—as she scrolls through articles and forums, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“Here,” she says suddenly, holding up her phone. “Did you know he played juniors in Ontario?”
“Yeah,” I say, glancing at the screen. “What about it?”
She scrolls further, her expression growing darker. “There was a hazing scandal on his team. A boy died. A bunch of players were charged, kicked off the team, some were convicted… but there’s no mention of Penn at all.”
I feel a chill run down my spine. “I remember hearing about that incident, but I didn’t know he was there at the time.”
Farren chews at her bottom lip, her eyes coming to me. “I’m assuming he wasn’t involved. So why would people be coming after him for it? Unless… he was involved.”
I shake my head adamantly. “No way he was involved.”
“You’re just saying that out of loyalty,” she replies, not unkindly but in a way that says she wants to keep me objective.
“I’m not saying it out of blind loyalty. I’m saying it from experience. If he was involved in any type of incident that involved members getting kicked off the team and charged criminally, there’s no way he’d be where he is right now. That sort of stain would follow him. It would either ruin or mar his career in some way. We would have heard about it. Instead, he’s stayed on a path that’s led him to greatness in this sport. Those kids who were responsible… the article said some went to prison. We’re talking about ruined lives and careers. And yet Penn is one of the best in the league. I’m confident he didn’t have anything to do with it.”