Puck Me, I’m Yours (Hawthorne University Hockey #1)

32. Delaney

32

Delaney

The delicate petals of the white lily mock me from inside my locker. I trace my finger along the soft edge, my heart clenching. Damn Breck and his thoughtful gestures. Always so thoughtful, even when I don’t want him to be. The fluorescent lights overhead buzz faintly, their harsh glow casting long shadows on the flower.

I want to crush it, to destroy this symbol of false hope. But I can't bring myself to do it. Instead, I just leave it, sitting down beside it as I start to unlace my skates.

The door swings open with a bang, and I jump, my nerves already frayed. Greer storms in, her chin-length blonde hair swishing with each determined step. Her eyes narrow when she spots me, and she rolls them dramatically.

"Well, if it isn't the ice queen herself," she mutters, dropping onto the bench with a huff that could rival a petulant toddler.

I raise an eyebrow, starting on my other skate. "Something on your mind, Greer?"

She glares at me, her resting bitch face now a way more active ‘fuck off’ face. "Oh, nothing. Just wondering how long you're planning on being an idiot."

My jaw clenches. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She leans back, stretching her legs out in front of her. "Come on, Del. Spit it out. What's your problem?"

I turn away, focusing on the scuff marks on the tile floor. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit," Greer snaps, and I can practically feel her eyes burning holes in the back of my head.

My shoulders tense, and I fight to keep my voice steady. "It's none of your business."

"Your attitude makes it everyone’s business." Greer's eyes narrow, and she leans forward, her voice low and intense. "You're an idiot. A complete fucking idiot."

I flinch at her words, but she doesn't stop.

"If you keep pushing Breck away like this, eventually he's going to take the hint."

My heart clenches, but I force the words out anyway. "Good. I hope he does."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I know they're a lie. The thought of Breck giving up, of never seeing that crooked smile or feeling the warmth of his hand in mine again, makes me feel hollow inside. But I can't let Greer see that.

"Bullshit," Greer spits out, her voice echoing off the lockers. She stands up abruptly, pacing the small space between us. I watch as she mutters under her breath, something about "idiots" and "not my problem."

I'm about to respond when Greer cuts me off, her voice softer now but no less intense.

"Look, Del. Breck is not Rafe. He's not even in the same universe as that asshole." She leans against the lockers, arms crossed. "Breck is... he's a genuinely good guy. And for some reason, he's absolutely head over heels for you."

My stomach does a little flip at her words, but I push the feeling down. I can't let myself believe it. Not after what I heard.

I laugh bitterly, the sound echoing off the locker room walls. "You don't talk like that about someone you love," I spit out, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "I heard him, Greer. Talking about me like I was just another conquest. Just another notch on his hockey stick."

Greer's eyes widen, and for a moment, I think I've stunned her into silence. But then she lets out a bark of laughter that makes me jump.

"You really are an idiot, huh?" She shakes her head, a wry smile on her face. "Breck would never let anyone speak about you like that. You have no idea," She pauses, and I find myself leaning forward, hanging on her next words. "He reeled them in, played along, and then he beat the absolute shit out of them."

My mouth drops open. "What?"

"Oh yeah," Greer continues, a hint of admiration in her voice. "Made threats and everything. Said if he ever heard them talk about you like that again, he'd end them."

I blink, trying to process this information. It doesn't fit with what I thought I knew, with what I heard. But Greer wouldn't lie about this. Would she?

My mind races, replaying every interaction with Breck, searching for clues I might have missed. The way he always seemed to be there when I needed him, how his eyes softened when he looked at me, the gentleness in his touch despite his rough exterior, the way he fucked me like I was his and he was mine.

Could I have been wrong about him this whole time?

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. "No, I heard..." My voice trails off, uncertain now.

Greer raises an eyebrow, her hair swinging as she tilts her head. "You heard what, exactly? Are you sure you heard what you think you did?"

Her words hit me like a slap of cold air on the ice. I replay that night in my mind, the conversation I overheard. But now, with this new information, everything seems... different. Less certain.

My heart races, and I can feel heat rising to my cheeks. What if I jumped to conclusions? What if I misunderstood?

"I... I don't know anymore," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Greer's expression softens, just a fraction. It's a rare sight on her usually prickly face. "Look, Del," she says, her tone uncharacteristically gentle, "I get it. After Rafe, you're scared. But Breck? He's not Rafe. Not even close. And he doesn’t deserve this."

The mention of my ex sends a familiar pang through my chest, but it's duller now, overshadowed by the whirlwind of emotions about Breck. I glance at the flower he left in my locker, its delicate petals a stark contrast to the cold metal surrounding it.

"But if he really cared, why would he..." I start, but the words die on my lips. I'm not even sure what I'm accusing him of anymore.

Greer snorts. "Why would he what? Defend your honor? Stand up for you? God forbid a guy actually gives a damn about you, right?"

I blink, taken aback by Greer's bluntness. But then again, when isn't she blunt?

"I... that's not what I meant," I stammer, but even to my own ears, it sounds weak.

Greer rolls her eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck. "Listen up, princess," she says, leaning forward. "If you can't see Breck for the amazing guy he is, then you don't deserve him."

Her words hit me like a slap, leaving me winded. I want to argue, to defend myself, but the truth is, I'm not sure I can. Everything I thought I knew about what happened is shifting, rearranging itself in my mind like pieces of a puzzle I didn't even know I was putting together.

"He's..." I start, then stop. What is Breck, really? The guy who leaves flowers in my locker? The one who always looked at me like I was the center of his universe? Or the brash hockey player who uses women for pleasure?

"He's Breck," Greer finishes for me, her tone softening just a touch. "And yeah, he's a lot. But have you ever considered that maybe that's exactly what you need?"

I look down at my hands, twisting them in my lap. "I don't know if I can handle 'a lot' right now," I admit quietly.

Greer stands up, grabbing her bag. "Well, figure it out soon," she says, heading for the door. "Because guys like Breck? They don't come around often. And trust me, he won't wait forever."

As the door swings shut behind her, I'm left alone with my thoughts and a single flower that suddenly feels like it weighs a ton.