Chapter 4
JAYDEN
If my legs bounce any higher, the plates on the table will start dancing in time with the bass muffled through my AirPods.
Music was supposed to distract me from the fact no one has heard from Eli since he left our arena more than twenty-four hours ago.
Not even Eminem can drown out the silence of undelivered messages.
Eli is the most dependable of the guys. While the others are living their best bachelor life or have kids and families to focus on. He shows up. I message, he replies. I call, he answers. Him going dark is a big deal. My focus is shot.
Eli’s a grown man, I tell myself, staring at my phone beside my plate. He can take care of himself. He’s fine. I’m fine. Sometimes a person needs to zone out, get away from the pressure. It’s okay. He’s okay—
Fuck.
An Air Pod pops from my ear. Matheo nudges me and tips his chin toward the end of the table where Coach is doing a head count in the hotel restaurant.
“Any of you hear from Sylkes?” he asks, landing a narrowed stare on me. +When I don’t acknowledge Coach’s stare, he goes on, “Jayden?”
Matheo slides me a look that says I told you so.
“I’m not Eli’s keeper,” I mutter, eyes on my plate.
“Bullshit,” Matheo scoffs. “Since Sylkes joined the team, the two of you are joined at the hip. No parties, no late nights…”
“Cut the shit, Hillier. After losing to The Wolves, your energy should be on tonight’s win.” Coach drags out the chair opposite me and sits. “Have you talked to him?”
I shake my head and shred a piece of pasta. “His cell is off.” “Morrow?” Coach catches my wrist to stop the fidget. “Do I need to be worried about him? Should I escalate this?”
“Escalate it how?”
His brows pull tight. The strain there says he’s as unsettled as I am. He forces a smile that doesn’t convince anyone.
“Do you seriously think something’s happened to him?” Matheo cuts in. When neither of us answers, he drops his voice. “Do you think he’s done something to himself? I mean, he was off after the shit with Tomes, and—”
“No,” I snap, the word punching me to my feet. “He’s not like that!”
“Nobody’s heard from him since… I didn’t even think he could lose his shit like that.”
“That fuck had it coming,” I bark back.
“Well,” Andersen says, cautious, “I suppose you know Sylkes better than the rest of us.”
“I do,” I fire back, though doubt scratches behind my ribs.
I only know him as far as he lets me. We’re close, sure. We hang out off the ice. There are rooms he doesn’t let anyone into.
I grab my electrolyte water and push up from the table, ready to head upstairs and prep for the game, when the room dips into sudden quiet. Heads swivel toward the entrance. I follow their stare.
Mother. Fucker.
My heart plummets so fast it knocks the wind out of me. Disbelief narrows my vision. Eli strolls in holding a girl’s hand.
I’ve never seen him with a girl. I’ve never seen him hold anyone’s hand. Touch makes him tense.
“Plot twist,” Matheo murmurs with a low whistle.
“Did not see that coming,” Andersen adds.
Dylan leans forward for a better look. “The fuck?”
“Well… shit,” Broussard chuffs. “Who is that?”
I don’t know. She’s beautiful, the kind of pretty that should put a hitch in my lungs. It would, if she weren’t clinging to Eli as if he’s the only solid thing in the room. The last thirty-six hours of worry curdle any appreciation into static.
Eli stops at Coach. “Sorry I’m late. There wasn’t an earlier flight, and—”
“Upstairs,” Coach orders, standing with a glare that could peel paint.
We were all worried. He looks oblivious. Am I missing something? Did I get him wrong?
“Coach, I need—”
“Lose the girl and get your ass upstairs. Now.”
He inhales, ready to argue, but the girl tugs his arm. Coach stalks off, shaking his head.
“Where have you been?” Andersen asks.
“Home.”
“Where’s your phone?” Matheo throws at him.
“Dead.”
“Really?” Dylan snorts. “You’re going to stick with the one-word answers?”
“Something important came up back home. I was rushing and left my charger, so I couldn’t charge my phone after it died, and then…”
“You had to get your dick wet?” Matheo spits before tossing an apologetic look at the girl. “No offense, Sweetheart.”
“Morrow’s been worried sick,” Andersen snaps, tipping his chin at me.
I don’t answer. I stand instead, but my gaze locks on Eli. His shaggy blond hair hangs dull, dark circles dragging at his eyes. The brown is nearly black when he looks at me.
“I don’t know what to say as I edge around the table, studying the way his hand is still holding the girl’s in a white-knuckled grip that she reciprocates.
The Eli I know has no interest in women or men. The Eli I know is solitary and reserved to the point that sometimes I have to stay near him a moment longer to make sure he’s not a figment of my imagination.
This Eli is… a stranger.
“Jayden… wait,” he calls when I walk away.
The need to turn back aches in my bones. I keep moving through the restaurant to the lobby. I can’t look at him. I can’t look at her.
“Please, Jayden.”
I keep going, fighting every instinct. Confusion. Annoyance. Worry. All of it pounding in my skull.
“Morrow!” His fingers catch my arm. I yank free, heat streaking up my skin when I meet his pleading gaze.
“Can you…” He glances at the girl, then brings her closer. “I haven’t picked up my room key yet… Can you help me out?”
“I got a game to prep for.”
“I know,” he says, scanning the lobby. “But, please.”
That tortured-boy look hits me dead center. It always does. Fighting it is a waste of time.
“What do you need?”
His eyes flick between me and the girl. I know I’m screwed before he speaks. “Can Finley hang out in your room while I go see Coach and pick up my room key?”
“Seriously? You want me to babysit your girlfriend?” I study her.
Golden-brown hair veils half her face. Her eyes pull me up short. Not just blue—ice-blue, bright and winter-clear. They soften when she tries a small smile. It doesn’t make it to her eyes, but it warms the edges of her face.
Eli’s never mentioned her. Never mentioned anyone. I thought… I—
Fuck. He’s my best friend.
“Please, JJ.” He wraps an arm around her. He’s wired tight. She leans in and brings his attention down to her. “I can wait down here. It’ll be fine… I’ll be okay.”
“Not happening. We stay at this hotel every time we play Florida. Your brother will know where to find you, and—”
“The Wolves have a game today.”
“And your brother is suspended, too.”
No. What is he doing?
My stare snaps up. He gives me that brow-tilt that begs.
Fuck. Me.
“Please,” he mouths.
The familiarity clicks. The eyes. Tomes’s eyes. Not cold like his, but close enough to send a prickle across my skin. Eli’s hand clamps around her shoulder. His scabbed knuckles look ready to split.
Common sense says walk. Let him handle his mess. My mouth says something else when the elevator pings and she flinches hard enough to jolt her hair back.
Her lip is split. A shadow blooms at the base of her throat.
Fuck.
She’s hurt.
He’s still my best friend.
“Come on,” I say, nodding to the open elevator.
She recoils into Eli. The fear hits me in the gut. I’ve never had anyone flinch from me like that. I step back and give them room. Eli guides her into the rear corner. I take the opposite.
I fix my eyes on the brass doors. I keep failing and glancing at the bruises on her neck.
“Your boyfriend’s introduction skills suck,” I say, cutting the silence.
Her eyes meet mine in the reflection, flick to Eli, then down, unsure.
“They don’t,” Eli scoffs at his shoes, then mutters, “Maybe a little.”
Something snapped in him over the last thirty-six hours. I don’t know the switch. I see the fallout.
He shifts, his hand hovering at the small of her back to angle us toward each other. “Finley, Jayden… Jayden, Finley.”
Finley. He said it earlier. Didn’t land while he was asking me to babysit.
“So basic,” I chuff, trying to lighten the air, soften my edges so I’m not the next threat in her day.
“I won’t be long,” Eli murmurs as the elevator doors slide open. “If you need anything, Jayden will get it for you. Okay?”
Finley nods.
Eli gives me a one-sided smile and a nod, then tells her, “You’re safe with JJ, Fin. I promise.”
I peel the charger from the back of my phone and hand it over. “Charge your goddamn phone.”
He clicks it on and tells her, “I’ll be right back for you, Sweet Girl.”
Sweet Girl. The reverence in his voice squeezes my lungs. She’s still tense as he backs out. I expect her to put distance between us, but she doesn’t bolt when the doors close.
I turn away, giving her space like I do with my kid sisters when they need quiet more than questions. “Have you had lunch?”
After a beat, she answers, “Elijah gave me a protein bar.”
Elijah. A hard-edged name for a soft-spoken man.
“Ugh, not one of those awful squishy vegan bars…” I gag for effect. “They’re fucking gross.”
Finley laughs. Light and scratchy, like her throat hurts. Pretty, though. It loosens something tight in my chest.
She produces a white-and-brown wrapper. I take it carefully, so she doesn’t flinch. First win of the day. I crumple it and grin. “Banana pudding, my ass.”
On our floor, I hold a hand over the sensor and let her step out first. “Room nine-seventeen.”
We walk the maze of halls. Carpets swallow our footfalls. Air-con hums overhead.
“I don’t know how Eli eats this shit,” I add.
“It’s the best thing I’ve eaten in da—” She cuts herself off.
I don’t let the awkwardness swallow us again. “Wait till you try room service here. One of my favorite menus.”
Inside my suite, the curtains are still drawn from the nap I failed to take. The bed is a mess from Matheo dragging me out to lunch. Finley stands in the middle of the room, hands clasped, eyes tracking me.
“Sit,” I say, nodding to the foot of the bed and passing her a menu. “Pick anything you want. The cheeseburger fries are insane. Hands down the best thing on there.”
Her smile wobbles. Her eyes shine. “Thank you.”