Chapter 62
ELIJAH
Oregon Wolves hockey player Casey Cavanaugh in critical condition following catastrophic motor vehicle collision.
The notification glares back at me while I scan the article. Across the table, the guys are all reading the same thing.
“Fuck,” Matheo mutters, tossing his phone down like it burned him.
“I don’t know him well,” Jayden says, leaning back in his chair, “but he doesn’t seem like the kind of asshole who drives drunk. Right, Eli?”
I drag my thumb across the screen, scrolling slower than necessary. “He’s a good guy.”
Played with him for a season back when I was with The Wolves.
We weren’t close, but the locker room has a way of making you see a man’s character whether you mean to or not.
Casey—Clover, we called him—was steady. The kind of guy who stood when things got ugly on the ice. First to show up, last to leave.
“Report says suspected DUI,” Auguste mutters beside Dylan.
“Report also says the family wants privacy and discretion,” Dylan replies, his voice flat as he cuts into his steak. “Maybe we should be decent human beings and give them that.”
Matheo opens his mouth like he’s ready to argue, but Jayden elbows him under the table, and whatever silent language exists between those two makes Matheo clamp his jaw shut instead.
“Fine,” he grumbles, stabbing his fork into his plate like it offended him personally.
I keep reading the article, though. Something about it doesn’t sit right. The timing. The tone. None of this sounds like Clover.
The group chat pings across my screen, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Fin
Christina’s taking me to the movies. I’ll call you when I’m home. Okay?
JJ
Don’t forget the Air Tags.
Fin
Purse. Pocket. Keys.
What time does it end?
Fin
9…ish?
JJ
What are you watching?
Fin
A modern adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray.
JJ
Field research. I like it!
I glance up at him. He’s grinning at his phone like it just told him the funniest joke in the world. The kind of grin that makes him look younger than he is. Lighter, even with the weight he’s been carrying lately.
JJ
Have fun, baby
A selfie pops up—a kiss blown straight to the camera, her smile bright enough to cut through every shadow I didn’t realize was clinging to my ribs until right now.
Fin
Miss you both.
Four days, sweet girl. X
Fin
Counting them down, bombshell!
My eyes stay locked on her picture even after the chat goes quiet.
“You okay?” Jayden asks beside me.
“Trying not to freak out about her being across the country on her own.”
He angles his phone toward me, the pin on the map moving steadily across L.A. “She’s having a normal girls’ night with her friend. Fin deserves that.”
“I know. She needs freedom. She deserves a normal life.”
“Exactly,” he says, but I’m not sure whether he’s agreeing with me or convincing himself.
It feels good to be upgraded to a healthy scratch. Obviously, I don’t want any of the team to get injured, but being the next man up means I’m getting closer to getting back on the ice.
We’ve barely made it back to my suite from the team meeting when both mine and Jayden’s phones buzz at the same time.
Jayden snatches his up first and we perch on the vanity close to the closet as Finley’s face fills the screen. She’s all bright smile and flushed cheeks with messy hair falling around her shoulders. Just like that, something tight inside my chest loosens.
“How was it?” he chuckles, because her first words are a breathless, “Samson—off,” and the camera jolts as the dog tries to give her mouth-to-mouth.
Only when she flops onto the couch and lets his heavy head sprawl across her lap does she catch her breath. “It was great.”
“What did you watch again?” I ask, unable not to stare at the little things—her red mouth, the heat in her cheeks, the way her nails are painted to match. Small signs that there’s a whole life blooming in her now. Hope disguised as polish.
She groans. “Honestly, I’m still questioning what it was.” She pets Samson’s head down to her chest when he noses the camera. “I can tell you it wasn’t anything like the cute movies we’ve watched together.”
Jayden snickers, reaches across the narrow space between us, and tucks a loose curl back into my bun like he owns the right. “Told you. Nothing beats The Lion King.”
“Yeah, it definitely wasn’t that.” Her smile grows as she watches him bully my hair into submission. The warmth of his knuckles skims my temple; I don’t move away.
“Where’s Christina? Is she not staying with you tonight?” I scan the dim behind her, listening for another voice. Nothing.
She shakes her head, and Jayden asks, “How was the theatre experience?”
“It wasn’t terrible… just needed more story and fewer… distractions.” Her cheeks flare a deeper crimson, and she ducks behind Samson’s skull like it could shield her.
“Oh…” Jayden hums, licking his lower lip, amused. “That kind of movie.”
Am I missing something? “What kind?”
“The birds and bees every other scene kind,” he says, smug on purpose.
“The birds and the… What are you talking about?”
“Oh my God, Elijah, don’t make me say it.” She is mortified, which only makes me want to keep her talking. “I haven’t read The Picture of Dorian Gray, so I don’t know how true to the book the movie was.”
“Say what, sweet girl? What am I missing?”
Jayden side-eyes me—checking if I’m really as clueless as I’m pretending to be. The dimple under the freckle by his cheek appears when he realizes I’m playing along.
“Come on, Lucky, you gotta tell him now,” he coaxes.
“No, you can,” she huffs, but her eyes have that soft, bashful light that turns my heartbeat uneven.
“I would, except I didn’t watch the movie, and I haven’t read Oscar Wilde. I don’t really know what happens… what it’s about…”
It’s a lie—he’s got half a library in his place—but hearing him tease her makes my mouth pull into a smile that I don’t fight.
“Ugh… you’re being annoying.”
“Is he?” I ask, keeping my tone straight.
“Exactly, am I?” Jayden nudges my knee with his. He’s enjoying himself; so am I. “He’s only asking about the movie.”
“Elijah Benjamin Sylkes, you know exactly what the birds and the bees means,” Finley scolds, lips pushed into a pout that sets my mouth burning. I want to lean into the camera and taste the red off her.
“Doesn’t look like he does,” Jayden titters, low and rough.
The sound travels through me, wakes up everything. My stomach doesn’t flip; it lifts. Heat thins the space between us on this couch; his bare knee brushes mine and I can feel the outline of him like a heat signature even after he moves.
“Fine,” she growls—at the same moment my inhale stutters. “There was sex. Lots of sex. Every two seconds they were getting it on… everywhere they went… with every other person participating or watching, and…”
“Did you like it?” The question leaps out of me, so fast Jayden turns his head. It isn’t cool or calculated—it’s need.
“Umm…” She eases Samson off, stands, and wanders to the kitchen for water that she drains in one breath. I already know the answer. I saw it in her last night—the way abandon looks on her, holy and wild. Spellbinding.
“Answer the question, Fin,” Jayden coaxes, softer now.
We shift without speaking—he slides off the vanity, and I follow; we carry the call to the sitting area. The room is low-lit, the music channel humming in the background, a hush settling over the space like we’ve stepped inside the outline of a secret.
“Come on, baby, answer us.”
God, the way his “baby” unspools across “us”—it splits something tender in my ribs.
“Did it… turn you on?” My voice isn’t as easy as his; it scrapes a little. Feels honest.
Silence braids with the rasp of her breathing. The air tightens my skin; Jayden’s hand flexes on his thigh and my chest locks around the same pulse.
“I guess,” she whispers. “Yes.”
“Did it make you think about us?” She nods, eyes glossy, mouth parted. “And do you want—” he glances at me, letting me choose the words “—more?”
Her answer is another nod, shaky and certain at once. I shift my weight on my palms; Jayden opens his hand and closes it again like he’s holding something back. His shorts pull tight over the line of him; I look away before it undoes me.
“What do you need, sweet girl?” I ask.
Her gaze flicks between our faces on the screen. “I want you here,” she breathes, folding over the counter like the want is heavy.
Even across a grainy phone lens, I see the dip of her blouse, a glimpse of red lace underwear, and the way it sets off her skin. She’s never worn anything like that; I love that she is—for herself—and that I get to witness it.
I glance at Jayden. He’s already looking at me, a bare, unguarded smile tugging at his mouth like he knows exactly what I’m thinking and agrees.
My fingers curl over the cushion between us, the heat of his arm within reach.
I don’t pull away when his knuckles brush mine; the contact steadies me instead of spiking panic.
“We want you with us too,” he says, swallowing.
His fingers ghost mine again, deliberately checking in.
“Just because you’re not here doesn’t mean we can’t make you feel good,” he tells her, then cuts his eyes to me and leaves the next step in my hands.
Pushing down the twist of nerves that assaults me, I tell her, “Take off your clothes, Finley.”
“Elijah,” she falters, dropping her gaze to the counter so her face is hidden from view. “I can’t. I’m bleeding.”
“It’s just blood,” Jayden says. “Biology.”
“You’re perfect,” I assure her.
She’s searching between Jayden and I, when he suggests, “If it bothers you, there’s always the bath.”
Her demeanor freezes, as soon as he utters the words. I wish I was there to remind her that she doesn’t have to be afraid of the water.
Instead, I tell her, “Take off your clothes and get in the shower.”
The breath I didn’t know I was holding escapes me in a hiss when she props the phone on the counter.
Finley angles it just right so we can see her before she starts on the buttons of her blouse, the soft underlighting throwing curves and shadows over every move.
The puffy sleeves slide down her arms until the fabric puddles at her feet.
“Fuck me,” Jayden mutters, his voice low, reverent, when the bra comes into view.
Flesh-colored cups with big red flowers, cut so low they barely hide anything at all.
“So damn pretty,” he says, the words rougher now.
Finley bites at her smile but doesn’t hide from the camera.
Her eyes lock on ours, steady and sure, even though her hands tremble as she peels her jeans down over her hips.
The denim slides slow over long legs until she’s left standing in just the bra and a matching scrap of lace below, one large, embroidered flower resting right where my thoughts go dark.
“Spin,” Jayden orders.
Her pause lasts only a heartbeat before she turns, giving us the back view, the thong cutting a teasing line across the perfect curve of her ass.
We both groan.
“Bathroom,” Jayden rasps, his grip yanking tight at the waistband of his shorts like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered. The moment she steps into the ensuite, he instructs her, “Run the water and get naked.”
Jayden mutes the call, finally looking at me. “You good?”
I let the question sit. My whole life has been a list of no’s—lines I wouldn’t cross, things I wouldn’t let myself want. But right now, everything in me is a yes.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m good.”
“You sure? Because if this gets to be too much, I can step out. This has to be for you too, Eli. Not just for Fin. Not just for me.”
I meet his eyes, steady. “Stay,” I tell him.
We’re not touching, but his thigh presses into the cushion next to mine, close enough that the heat from him buzzes along my skin. He lifts the phone again as the water starts to run, steam rising in the frame.
Finley comes back into view, bare shoulders glistening, hair curling against her damp neck as she tests the spray with one small hand.
“If you’re sure…”
“Jayden,” I say, my voice lower than I mean it to be. “Don’t keep our girl waiting.”