Chase stopped and turned to face him with the box still in his arms. He smirked. “I said you can’t fucking skate, in case your girlfriend failed to relay the entire message.”

Paul paused like he had expected Chase to deny it.

“Fuck you.”

He must have stolen this sad excuse for a comeback from Luke.

“Fuck you for talking shit to Bailey.” Chase stepped closer, dark brow drawn into a harsh line.

“Nothing that wasn’t true.”

Chase’s jaw tightened, and he glared at him, shaking his head. Pretty sure he was going to clobber his ass next time he was anywhere near the puck.

Or possibly now.

“Chase.” I stepped closer, touching his arm.

“Brave words,” Chase said. “Stupid, but brave. See how that plays out for you on the ice in a couple weeks.”

Paul scoffed. “You didn’t even hit me last game. I’m not scared of you.” He probably should have been, but no one ever accused him of being smart.

“That’s right.” Chase snorted. “Why would I bother when you did such a good job of taking yourself out?”

Dallas strolled up to the open door then, giving me a friendly smile. It faded when he caught sight of Chase and Paul standing face to face. His hands fisted, square jaw tensing.

“What’s up, Carter?” Dallas asked sharply. “Is there a problem?”

Chase glanced over at him and rolled his shoulders back. “Nothing worth your time. Let’s get James moved the fuck out of here, shall we?”

43. say it

CHAPTER 43

SAY IT

Bailey

Several trips up and down the elevator later, I was moved into our new place. Not even remotely unpacked, but all my boxes were stowed away in my room, along with my bed, dresser, and desk. Siobhan had, thankfully, already purchased furniture for the shared areas with her rental insurance payout. It was a good thing too, because I didn’t have any other furniture. Or money.

Everything Shiv purchased coordinated perfectly. A sleek navy blue sectional, modern light-colored wood kitchen table set, plus a few accent pieces. The pieces were stylish and looked distinctly grown-up; a definite improvement over the second-hand furnishing situation at my old place, complete with battered coffee table and worn, dirt-brown couch oozing stuffing at the seams.

Factoring in the much nicer roommate, significantly newer building, and the ability to finally have Chase over, the move was an upgrade in every sense of the word.

Including the monthly rent. But who needs groceries?

After we brought up the last set of boxes, Chase followed me into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I filled my cup under the fridge dispenser while he leaned against the counter, reading a text.