Regardless, if the loathing on her face was any indication, her loyalties lay with Jock, and I was guilty as charged. Facts were facts. I’d slept with my teammate’s wife, and I hated myself for being such a stupid douche. I tried to find the words to express my regrets and drew a blank.

She wasn’t done with me yet. She advanced toward me until we were a few feet from each other. Defiantly, she glared up at me, not the least bit intimidated by my size or muscles. Forcing my expression to remain impassive, I gazed back at her.

“You bastard. You dumb shit. What the fuck did you think you were doing? He’s your teammate. I don’t care if they just called you up or what. You’re a selfish dickhead.”

I held my hands out, palms up, and swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I—”

“Where did you run into the cheating bitch?”

“In the hotel a few blocks down the road. I thought she was just looking for a good time, and I was bored.”

Wrong answer. Her dislike of me amped up a notch. “You were bored? You broke up a family because you were bored? Are you that much of an asshole?”

“I…uh…I…” I had no defense for the indefensible. I was a horny, young hockey player. “I didn’t think.”

After a disgusted once-over, she spun on her booted heel, took a few steps, and spun back around. “My brother is a good guy, and I don’t appreciate anyone hurting him. Not her and not you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said lamely.

She rolled her eyes, not convinced of my innocence one damn bit. “Your days are numbered on this team if my brother and I have anything to do with it.”

With that final threat, she stalked off, slamming the large metal door loudly to punctuate her anger.

She was Jock’s sister. Fuck. This was worse than I imagined. And for some reason, his sister had a key card to get into the building, which meant one thing, she worked here too.

Steeling myself for what was to come, I pushed the door open and trudged down the hallway toward the locker room and my fate. I’d played the preseason for the Sockeyes before being sent back down. I was well aware of the layout of the SHAC, and I knew all the players.

I opened the locker room door, hoping I was early enough no one else would be there. I wasn’t that lucky. Half the team was inside. One by one like dominos falling, they stared at me, some with accusation, some with disgust, and others with confusion. I’d broken the cardinal rule of the bro code. Not only had I slept with a teammate’s woman but I’d slept with his wife, the mother of his five children, and every guy in this room knew it.

When I met Ziggy’s gaze, guilt colored his cheeks bright red. Ziggy loved to talk, and I knew then he was the one who’d been spreading the gossip. He cast his attention downward to his skates, as if lacing them up were the most difficult task he’d ever performed.