Ruthless Noble by Alley Ciz
CHAPTER 24
The reflection staring backat me is full of judgment I certainly don’t need. It’s not like I asked for this. I’m doing the only thing I know how to help mitigate Natalie’s increased threats against Carter. Still, it doesn’t stop me from feeling helpless in the situation.
“You better be on your best behavior later,” Natalie cautions.
“Aye, aye.” Her eyes turn to ice at my jaunty salute.
There are times she makes it too easy to get under her skin. Unfortunately, the same can be said about me. I’ve learned to live with a constant tightness in my chest. I’m starting to forget what it’s like to go about my day without feeling like my body has taken a beating.
“Remember”—Natalie moves to the counter and lifts a bundle of fabric from it—“you’re going to the game to root for your fiancé.” She holds the bundle out for me to take, my hand annoyingly shaky as I do.
The smug satisfaction on her painted lips is imprinted in my memory even now as I worry the hem of the jersey between my fingers.
“But just in case you forget who that is, this should help.” A hand hooks over the top of the jersey I have stretched out to display, a scarlet nail tapping the nameplate.
While football and cheerleading are my first loves when it comes to choosing sporting events to attend, hockey has been climbing the ranks since Lance has become friends with my brother. I’m not as well versed in sticks and pucks as I am in pigskins and basket tosses, but I know enough to enjoy a game without a tutor.
Worrying the black hem of the too-large jersey, my eyes narrow at the Knight taking up most of my torso. Ugh! It’s just wrong.
Knock-knock.
I turn to see Mitchell looming in the doorway to my bedroom, an unexpected spark of enjoyment flickering at seeing him dressed down in a pair of dark jeans and a Blackwell Academy gray polo shirt. “Ready to go?”
I nod despite not feeling it. It’s not like it matters anyway. If I tried to back out of going, who knows what Natalie would do to retaliate.
“You’re riding with us to the arena, correct?”
“Yeah. Tessa and Tinsley agreed to meet us there.” I walk to my bed and pull the strap of my overnight bag over my shoulder. At least I know this night will end with me sleeping at Carter’s instead of this place. Small favors. “Thanks again for arranging for them to join us.”
“Of course.” It’s weird how I believe the affectionate grin he sends my way. He’s directly linked to a person I despise above all others, yet there’s a core goodness in him that helps to ease the anxiety Natalie causes.
It doesn’t matter how much time I’ve spent in the BA hockey arena these last couple of weeks; I don’t think I’ll ever not be impressed by it. There’s an ambiance to it that is more reminiscent of a top-tier college like BTU than where a high school team would play. Perks of the obscenely wealthy.
Gray, white, and black banners and pennants hang from the rafters for all the conference and state championships the hockey team has won through the years, as well as names and numbers of alumni who have gone on to play professionally. BP has a similar setup in the main gym, but theirs boasts for all of the school’s sports, while this is strictly for hockey. I can admit it’s impressive.
Unlike when I would observe practice, tonight I’ll be watching the action happening on the ice from one of the suites, and oh my damn. Sure, I’ve watched my fair share of BP football games in the founders’ box, but that’s nothing special. It’s more an enclosed room to protect from the elements with heat for when the weather turns cold. This is…wow.
There are large leather chairs stacked in two stadium-style rows and a marble counter set up with chafing dishes and chilled beverages. It feels more like something you would find at a professional sporting event, though I honestly shouldn’t expect anything less.
“You think if I send some pics to your Uncle Chuck, he’ll renovate the founders’ box?” Tessa’s eyes are out on stalks as we walk arm in arm through the space.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath.” I snort, guiding the two of us and Tinsley to three seats tucked in the corner.
“Ba-zing!” Tessa mimes ringing a bell. “Breathing advice from the asthmatic.”
Tinsley’s mouth is agape when I side-eye Tess, but there’s no offense given or taken in Tessa’s joke. “Someone’s in a mood tonight,” I observe instead.
“Eh.” Tessa shrugs, dropping into her seat with a flourish. “My inappropriate factor increases with heightened awkwardness. I suspect that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” She nudges me between the ribs with an elbow. “Get it? Iceberg?” She waggles her eyebrows, bouncing her gaze between me and the rink below.
“Corny…even for you.” Though she met her objective because I’m laughing.
Below us, the stands are mostly full and continue to steadily fill with spectators. A part of me is surprised to see so many people with the puck drop happening at four in the afternoon. Then again, Mitchell rearranged his schedule to attend, as did Governor Delacourte and Mr. Noble, so I guess these things are a bigger deal than one would expect.
Because of the early start, there’s thankfully not a whole lot of time for us to get pulled into a conversation with the adults before we need to stand for the obligatory singing of the national anthem and the game gets underway.
Having gone to a school without a hockey team, I know zilch when it comes to who is a contender and who’s not. The only reason I know this game is more a gimme for the BA Knights is because the guys have talked nonstop about it all week.
Unlike with football, the action is a lot faster with hockey, and I quickly find myself sitting on the edge of my seat in an effort to keep track of the puck flying across the ice.
Hanging around after school to watch practice and then letting Duke bring me home afterward was a method I employed to make Natalie think I was playing along with her wedded-bliss dreams, though I can admit I learned enough to have me feeling more invested in today’s game than I would have thought I’d be.
I know Jasper, Banks, and Duke all play on the Knights’ starting line, with the former two as offensive players and my darling fiancé on defense. They’ve also all mentioned how they hope to play at the college level after graduation, and even a layman like me can tell they each possess the skill to do so.
Ooo, especially Jasper. Look at the way he flies down the ice.
Running my fingers through my hair, I use the move to hide how I glance back to check to see if Natalie is paying us any attention, as if her satanic personality could make it possible to hear my inner thoughts. Thankfully, she seems to be engrossed in conversation with Mrs. Delacourte and Mrs. Noble. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure they are also talking about the wedding they claim isn’t supposed to happen for many years. Even though I have no intention of following through on any of those plans, bile still churns in my gut at how I haven’t found an out yet.
Ignoring the constriction of my ribcage, I bring my focus back to the game. And, yes, my mental musings were spot-on because Jasper is practically a blur as he weaves through the white and red jerseys of the other team’s defense. The way he holds his stick slightly off the ice tells me he doesn’t have the puck, but he’s enough of a threat that they still cover him.
Banks takes a hard check in the corner that surprisingly has Tinsley wincing and Tessa and me sharing Now that’s interesting eye contact. The next time Tess gets on my case about my star-crossed—oh, you heard my sarcasm, did you—love with Jasper, I need to remember to bring up the Tinsley and Banks show. I’ll make sure to leave out how that particular name comes from Jasper himself because that would defeat the purpose of the distraction technique.
The puck is passed between players, the Knights losing possession to the Wolves before they steal it back and so forth. Jasper manages to regain control of the puck and takes a nasty check to the boards. Unlike in the pros, fighting is not allowed at the high school level, but that doesn’t stop Jasper from staring down the defender who hit him after he shakes him off.
I’m dozens of feet away, but the image projected on the screen hanging above center ice is enough to have my nipples tighten painfully against my bra and my panties turning damp. There is nothing like Jasper’s dangerous glower.
A ref skates between them, breaking things up before they escalate to places that would require suspensions.
There’s a face-off in one of the circles by the Wolves’ net. Mr. Noble is on his feet, hands braced on the railing atop the half wall that makes up the balcony of the suite as Jasper wins the face-off, passing the puck to Banks the way I’ve seen him do in practice countless times.
Jasper feints left then skates right, sailing around the back of the net, his skates sending a spray of shaved ice into the air as he takes a position in front of the goalie and accepts a pass back from Banks before hitting it into the back of the net.
Absorbed in the action, I’m on my feet cheering as the red light attached to the net lights up with the scoring goal.
Mrs. Noble is clapping like Jasper scored the game-winning goal in the Olympics, with Mrs. Delacourte showing a little more decorum. Natalie—surprise, surprise—is doing the bare minimum needed to seem invested.
The dads of the bunch are all high-fiving and bro backslapping like they were the ones who pulled off the play.
Jasper’s line swarms on him in front of the goal, sticks raised high in the air, gloved hands patting him on the back in celebration. As they break away, Jasper lifts his gaze toward our box, and like a homing beacon, I swear it meets mine.
My heart rate picks up, and the way pride infuses my system tells me one thing: I’m in trouble. Big, big complicated trouble.