9
Trey
“Get off the ice if you can’t hack it, Turner,” Beau spat out at me as I watched him skate off.
“Asswipe,” I shouted back with the little air I had left. Not that I’d had much to begin with.
He’d hit me damn hard this time.
On purpose.
Of course.
Beau was making it real clear how much he hated me at the moment.
And he was mostly doing this by kicking my ass on the ice.
Off the ice, he wasn’t being physical.
No, off the ice he was mostly ignoring me.
Gigi still allowed me to drop in to see the puppies.
Thank God.
Those little creatures were about the only things I found peace in the last week.
Beau busted my ass daily.
Living with Lexi—but being on a ‘look, don’t touch’ basis—frustrated the hell out of me.
Constantly being on camera sucked the big one, too.
At least they removed the one from our living room.
All of the apartments had cameras in the living rooms because of the reality show.
Nothing in the bedrooms, or bathrooms.
When Gigi and Beau started living together back in the fall, they had theirs removed.
Or, more like Beau removed it in a fit of rage.
The show had been taping them after hours, and Beau got pissed.
When he saw footage of them dancing in the kitchen, and sharing a tender kiss—he’d lost his ever-loving mind.
To be honest, I didn’t blame him.
Not one bit.
I’d watched him uninstall the camera, then promptly toss it into the pool.
The owners had instructed the show to remove our camera.
I guessed because of the fact that Lexi and I were married—but we weren’t.
We were living together as a couple.