Shutout (Rules of the Game, #2)

by Avery Keelan

It isn’t that my dad will be angry if I don’t show up well on the ice—it’s that he’ll be disappointed, and somehow, that’s even worse.

Do I suspect some daddy issues? Gotta make him proud?

One mistake on my end, and I won’t be a true Donahue anymore.

When you’ve been given the world, everyone expects you to dominate it.

He might’ve been wearing a mask the night we met, but I’d recognize those hands anywhere. Hades.

This is supposed to be Chase’s younger sister, Seraphina, but I remember her as the smoking hot chick I fucked in a nightclub bathroom on Halloween.

Pausing in the doorway, I grant myself the briefest moment to observe her, still taken aback by how fucking pretty she is. I’ve never used that word to describe a girl before. Hot, sure. Cute, sometimes. But she’s more than either of those. She’s pretty in the way that catches your attention and refuses to let it go.

“Question seventeen,” Seraphina murmurs. “Do you ever think about that night?” “All the fucking time.” I’m not a big believer in sugarcoating the truth. Plus, I think it’s pretty obvious. “Me too.” Her throat bobs, her warm brown eyes searching mine. “Do you regret it? I mean, it’s made things kind of complicated now.” Complicated is an understatement. Ever since she moved in, it’s been like navigating a minefield. The more time we spend together, the closer I come to doing something I shouldn’t. “No, Tink. I could never regret you.”

“Did I wake you?” “Kinda.” The word is muffled by his blue toothbrush. “Sorry. Like I said, I can’t sleep in.” He waves me off, leaning over the sink to spit. “All good. Bed just felt a little empty suddenly, that’s all.”

The only time I feel some semblance of calm is when I’m with Seraphina. Then it’s like all the other noise disappears, if only for the brief sliver of time we’re together. Her effect is a double-edged sword. It also means she has the potential to divert my attention when it counts.

A better person probably would harbor some degree of guilt for crossing a line. All I feel is a deep sense of primal satisfaction for having claimed her. All I want is to do it again.

He draws me into him and dips his head, nudging my nose with his. “Wear whatever you want, Tink. I know how to fight.”

The longer I play What If, the more one thing becomes painfully clear: I can live with it if my career doesn’t go where I want it to. But I can’t live with not having her.

I’m not just falling for her; I’m already there. Have been for a while. I love her. That final realization hits hardest of all, and it runs through my head on repeat for the rest of the flight.

need to feel like I’m still desirable. Like I’m still me, and we’re still us.” He raises a brow. “What you’re saying is, you want me to pull your hair while I tell you to shut the fuck up and take my dick like a good girl?”