Chapter 14
ELIJAH
“Great game, boys. Let’s keep this rolling.
We’re back on a streak and we got to keep it going for as long as we can.
” Coach yells over the chaos in the locker room.
“Bruce, beautiful goals, that bell has never sounded so good. Nano, Preacher,” he calls at Jayden and I, stepping into the middle of the circle, “fantastic work. The assists were on point and it’s the strongest our defense has been in a while. Keep it up.”
Jayden curtsies awkwardly at the round of applause we get from the team while Coach spins on the spot looking for his next mention.
Tonight was spectacular. Every play, every move, face-off, power-play…
everything was stellar. Coach is right, this is the strongest we’ve been as a team since the start of the season.
We’re hungrier than ever to stay at the top of our division.
“Rio,” he hollers, calling Matheo up into the middle of the circle. “You took some serious hits tonight, but you showed the Vancouver defense up like a master.”
Matheo’s head becomes bigger by the second, his chest puffing up the more his ego gets blown up. Just when he’s waiting and drooling for Coach to hand him the man of the game rocket, Coach looks up and asks, “Hey, Thompson, who’s the daddy?”
“Motherfucker!” Hillier grouses, stomping his foot like a big baby when Coach launches the rocket at Dylan, which only makes everyone laugh when Andersen throws a diaper at him. “Fucking set me up again, assholes!”
“Not our fault you always fall for it,” Jayden retorts, sinking down onto the bench beside me.
He looks uncomfortable, in pain rather than simply aching from the game. I’m only half listening to Dylan’s speech while I watch Jayden closely, trying to figure out what’s wrong.
The guys head for the showers when Dylan’s done and Jayden is still struggling with cutting his compression shirt with his tape scissors. He’s hissing and grimacing when I take the scissors from him and snip the collar.
“What are you doing?” He asks as I throw them down on the bench and stand in front of him.
In reply, I grab each side of his cut top and pull the material apart until it rips all the way to the hem.
“I can take care of it,” he tells me, inching away from me. His voice is unusually quiet and breathy, like maybe he’s winded or something. “Eli, I can—”
“I know, JJ,” I say, leaning to peer over his shoulder. He’s acting so strange, pulling away every time I try to get a better look at his injury. “Let me see.”
Jayden nods, bending over his thighs with his head between his knees so I can see the large bruise on his shoulder blade. Relief seeps through me with the knowledge that it’s just a killer bruise—the product of an appalling check.
“How bad?” He asks while I take in the damage, making sure it’s just his shoulder blade.
“Nasty bruise.” I hover my hand over the large purpling patch, taking in the way he sucks in a deep breath before he asks, “How nasty?”
His voice is strained when he glances up at me. His nose is flared while he watches me pull my hand back.
“You’re going to need arnica and a couple of ibuprofen to help the bruising and inflammation. Nothing serious, just damn ugly and clearly painful.”
“Fucking Jones shoved me into the boards with his shoulder.” He sits up with another sharp hiss, his damp hair swiping up my thigh. “Motherfucking fucker.”
“He’s an asshole,” I mutter, taking a step back as I add, “He got his just desserts.”
A lopsided grin cuts one side of his face. It’s such a boy like expression that it makes me pause. This is the goofy grin he gives Finley. The one that makes her blush and smile.
“It fucking burns so bad,” Jayden groans while he stands, the grin turning into a grimace again.
I don’t like it. Or the way he remains hunched so that the two inches he has on me are nothing.
Hazel eyes lock on mine, and he keeps opening his mouth like there’s something he wants to say, but he never does. It’s weird. Jayden never has a problem voicing his thoughts.
I keep waiting for something, and when nothing comes out, I chuckle, “There’s a reason Jones is the most punchable player in the league.”
“How’s your fist?” He chuckles, gripping my wrist to lift my right hand.
He studies it closely. Too closely for him. I may not like being touched by others, but it’s not like he goes out of his way to do it often. At least not that I notice...
“Better than his eye,” I finally retort, taking my hand back.
“Yeah, he does have a punchable face,” Jayden says, blowing out a long breath as he steps back at the sound of a couple guys returning from the showers.
A lot of the guys are already getting out by the time we’ve stripped down and get in. Dylan and Auguste are the only ones finishing up. Even though we’ve showered at the same time countless times before, my insides knot tight.
All my senses are hyper aware of every movement behind me. It doesn’t matter how hot the water runs, it’s never enough to distract me from my surroundings. The people around me.
“You guys have plans for Thanksgiving?” Dylan asks.
“Courtney’s coming to spend it with Coach and I,” Bruce announces.
“When are you proposing?” Dylan asks.
“When it’s the right time.”
“Dude, you’ve been carrying the ring around for ages?” Jayden laughs. “And when the perfect moment presents itself, I’ll have it with me.”
“Such a simp...” Jayden scoffs.
“Am I, though?”
I don’t know what they exchange behind my back, but Jayden’s quiet enough that I chance a glance his way.
From the way he’s pouting, Bruce’s jibe got to him.
“So… anyway, Thanksgiving plans?” Dylan asks again. It’s quiet for a beat before he asks Jayden, “You going to see your family in Vegas or are they coming here?
“Kailey’s coming to check out UCLA,” Jayden replies. “So the whole gang is in town. Knowing my mom and dad, they’ll invade my place for the day and cook for everyone while Momma and The Sire try to convince Kailey to stay at home.”
“How’s she recovering from the ACL surgery?” Auguste asks, genuine concern tinging his voice.
“It’s not something she likes to talk about. I tried to back in Florida when she went to see the specialist, but she fucking lost it on me.”
“She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.” The words roll off my tongue with a shrug. Bruce and Dylan fall silent, when I glance over my shoulder, they’re gawking between each other.
“Yeah, I know she will. I just hate that she’s struggling,” Jayden sighs.
“What about you, Preacher?” Dylan chimes. “You and your girl got any plans?”
Every time they call Finley my girl, a frisson of excitement bubbles in my chest. I like it. Hell, I more than like it, but at the same time, something inside me, deep in my gut twists tight.
I want Finley to be my girl, and at the same time, I’m terrified of what being mine would do to her.
Shutting off the water, I grab my towel and wrap it around me before I reply, “We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”
“How come?” Auguste asks.
“It’s not something we grew up celebrating in our church.”
“So what do you do?”
“Have a day off, I guess,” I say with a shrug as I walk out of the showers.
I make quick work of drying myself before Jayden, Dylan, and Auguste join me.
Jayden’s still favoring his left shoulder, which gives me pause while I get my shirt on.
Digging into my bag, I find a hair tie and twist the top lengths of my hair into a knot before I fish a pack of Motrin from a side pocket.
“Take two,” I tell Jayden, grabbing his water and handing it to him along with the painkillers.
“Thanks,” he replies, throwing the pills to the back of his throat and chasing them with a long gulp of his drink.
“Want a ride home?” I offer, when he nods, I tack on, “We need to be quick. Fin’s on her own and we don’t have anything at the apartment for dinner. So she’s got to be hungry, right?”
“Probably,” he says, voice muffled as he grabs his shirt from the hook in his cubby and puts it on. Too fast because his whole body ceases up with a loud hiss.
“Maybe not so fast,” I tell him, throwing both our kitbags over each of my shoulders. “Are you hungry?”
“Maybe...”
“Dude can always eat,” Bruce snickers on his way out of the door.
“You should eat something after taking the Motrin… last time you were sick when you took them on an empty stomach.”
“I had a bar after the game.”
“Right.”
Jayden bites his lip, deliberation pulling at his brows while he combs his fingers through his damp hair and then folds his suit jacket over his forearm. “Let’s go.”
He starts past me to the parking lot. Dylan pauses next to me in the doorway. Concern scrunching his brows.
“Good game,” is all he says when I walk out.
When I fall into step with him, Jayden’s still quiet. His jaw is tight, and his lips pressed shut.
“You’re acting weird,” I say.
“I’m not.”
“You’re being quiet and—what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just sore,” he adds the latter quickly and then falls back into silence. As we reach my G-Wagon, he asks, “Do you really not celebrate Thanksgiving?”
“It’s not a Christian holiday,” I tell him.
“Don’t your people give thanks?”
“My people?” I ask with a chuckle, trying to bring some levity to his quietness. “I’m not Moses.”
“No, you’re Elijah,” he laughs, emphasizing every syllable of my name as he gets into my car. When I’m in too, he asks, “Didn’t that guy go up in flames or something?”
“Something like that,” I say, starting the engine at the same time as he speaks.
Jayden’s watching me closely while I navigate through downtown LA and onto the Harbor freeway.
We’re settled into the drive when he announces, “Thanksgiving.”
“What about it?”
“Want to celebrate it this year?” His left hand pulls at his neck with a low hiss. “It’s literally across the hall and you can come and go as you want. Plus, my sisters will be relieved to have another girl around, and I think Finley would love Kailey...”
“Sure, that will be nice.” The way he thinks of Finley warms my chest. “Fin will love that.”
“She’s good for you... I like her.”
“Yeah, Finley makes it real hard not to.”
He drags in a deep breath, holding it in a beat before he asks, “What’s the deal with the two of you anyway? I haven’t seen you kiss her once.”
I steal a glance at him. Does this mean he wants to kiss her?
“Are you together? Are you not together? It’s kind of hard to tell when she initiates and you pull away.”
“It’s complicated,” I say.
“What isn’t complicated? I don’t think there’s anything worth having that is straightforward.”
Jayden stares down at his lap, and when I look at him, he's twisting his fingers as he plays with the mood ring on his index finger.
“You said you like her—”
“Like, I think she’s special. Like… you know… she brings out a different side of you that makes you approachable. Maybe a little bit relatable,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at his own statement. “I like the way you are with her when you allow yourself to be.”
A bright flush creeps across his cheeks when we pause at a red light and I observe him. Trying to figure out what he means.
“You smile more around her. Like I said, she makes you approachable.”
“You don’t think I’m approachable?”
That kind of stings coming from him. We’re close, or at least closer than I am with the other guys. I’ve never had a friendship with another guy the way I do with Jayden. I haven’t had many friendships at all.
Fuck.
I guess he’s right.
I’m about to tell him I don’t mean to be standoffish when he sits taller and levels me with one of his soft grins. “It’s a general opinion that you are the moodiest asshole on the team.”
“I’m not an asshole,” I argue.
“Well, I mean, you kind of are if everyone thinks you’re cantankerous,” he laughs.
“Wow, that’s a big word for you, JJ,” I chuckle back, taking in the way his eyes light up at my playful teasing.
“See?” He slaps his hand on the armrest between us. “Asshole.”
I can’t not laugh with him, especially when he’s finally coming back to his happy-go-lucky state.