chapter 5

~ ISABELLA~

For a full five seconds, I forgot how to breathe.

Then my body made the decision for me. I yanked the sheet up to my chin and scrambled backwards until my shoulder blades hit the headboard.

Isaac Moretti didn't move. He lay on his side with one arm bent under his head, watching me like I was a play he had already seen the ending of. His black hair stuck up on one side and there was stubble along his jaw. Without his team jacket and his usual scowl, he looked less like the terror of the RED RACKETS and more like a man who had slept for maybe an hour.

"You'll hurt yourself," he said. "It's a hotel headboard. It isn't padded."

"Where's Alan?"

It was the first thing out of my mouth, and I saw it land. Something flickered across his face, too quick to read.

"So you do remember who it was," he said. "Good. That makes this shorter."

"Makes what shorter?"

He sat up. The sheet slid down to his waist and I stared very hard at the ceiling. When I risked a glance, I saw he was wearing trousers. Thank God.

"Alan knocked on my door at two in the morning," Isaac said. "He looked like he'd seen a ghost. He told me you'd been drugged. That you walked into his room out of your mind, and that he couldn't..." He stopped, his jaw working. "That he couldn't stop it."

Heat crawled up my neck. Every detail of last night came back at once, and none of it was Alan's fault.

"I started it," I said. "He asked me what I wanted. I told him."

"I know. He said that too." Isaac's voice was flat. "It doesn't change anything."

"Is he okay?"

"He's in my room, staring at the wall like it owes him money."

I winced. Then something landed on my knees. My dress, wrinkled but in one piece.

"Bathroom," Isaac said. "Get dressed. We're not done talking."

I didn't argue. I locked myself in the bathroom and stared at the girl in the mirror. Hair in a wild mess. Lips a little swollen. A faint mark on my collarbone that I did not want to think about. Six feet of exhaustion and bad decisions.

'Get it together, Isabella.'

I splashed cold water on my face, pinned my hair up with the few pins I could find, and stepped back out.

Isaac had pulled on a white undershirt. He was leaning against the desk with his arms crossed, and I had to look up at him even in my heels. Not many people made me do that.

"How much do you know about the conduct code?" he asked.

"Enough. No hookups between teammates at league events."

"Article nine." He nodded. "Two players from the same team caught together at a league event get struck from the roster. Both of them. For the whole season."

My stomach dropped. "So Alan and I..."

"Are finished. Unless." He paused. "There's a clause almost nobody remembers. If the captain is involved, the captain answers for it. Only him. He takes the discipline, and the players stay."

It took me a second.

"Nothing happened between us," I said slowly.

"Nothing happened," Isaac agreed. "Not one thing. But by the time you walk out of that door, you spent the night with me."

I stared at him. The last time Isaac Moretti had said more than five words to me, he had told me my skating form was sloppy.

"Why would you do that for him?"

"For my roster." He said it like it was obvious. "Alan is the best young player in this state. And you're a decent forward when you're not mouthing off. I'm not losing two players over somebody else's crime."

"That's it?"

"That's it. Don't read into it, Sinclair."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

His eyes narrowed, as if he suspected I was laughing at him. I wasn't. Not really.

"Who gave you the drink?" he asked.

I hesitated.

In my head, I could see a smile with too many teeth, and amber eyes. And behind him, a shadow with Phillip's face. But I had no proof. And Isaac was Clara's brother. I couldn't say a word about Phillip without something to back it up.

"I didn't get a name," I said.

"Would you know him again?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me what he looks like."

"No."

The room went very quiet.

"It's my problem," I said. "I'll deal with it my way."

"It stopped being only your problem when it landed on my team."

But he didn't push. He just looked at me for a long moment, and I had the strange feeling he was filing something away.

"For now," he said.

I nodded and reached for my clutch. When I stood too fast, the room tilted. A hand caught my elbow, steady and warm, and was gone the second I found my feet.

"You're shivering," Isaac said. He took his suit jacket off the back of the chair and held it out.

"I'm not."

"Sinclair."

I took it. It smelled like cedar and cold air.

"Chin up," he said. "Don't explain anything. Whatever anyone says out there, you let me talk."

"Since when do you—"

A fist pounded on the door.

We both went still.

"Isabella!" It was Phillip, loud enough to carry down the entire hallway. "I know you're in there! Somebody saw you go in!"

Isaac looked at me.

Slowly, he reached for the handle.