Chapter 25
OWEN
The puck sailed past my stick for the third time in ten minutes.
“Taylor. What the hell are you doing out there?” Coach Cooper’s voice boomed, bouncing off the empty stands and drilling straight into my skull. I winced, skating back into position, trying to shake off the fog clouding my brain.
It wasn’t working because she was here.
My eyes betrayed me again, drifting up toward the stands like they had a mind of their own. Harlow was tucked into a seat about halfway up, her feet propped on the chair in front of her, wearing my gray team hoodie.
The possessive satisfaction of seeing her in my clothes was probably unhealthy, but I didn’t care.
A book was open in her lap, but she wasn’t reading it. Her chin was propped on her hand, and even from fifty feet away, I could see the smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
She was watching me, and my body knew it.
Heat coiled low in my stomach, completely inappropriate for an afternoon practice, and completely impossible to control. My mind flashed back to this morning, her beneath me on the couch, the sounds she made when I touched her, the way she trembled and arched into me and…
Something slammed into me with the force of a freight train.
The ice rushed up to meet my face. My helmet cracked against the surface, stars exploding behind my eyes as I sprawled across the rink. The world tilted sideways, the rink lights blurring into streaks.
“Jesus Christ, Taylor.” Coach was closer now, loud enough to make my throbbing head pound harder. “Get your freaking head out of your ass and into the game.”
I lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling. This was fine. Everything was fine. I was absolutely demolished because I couldn’t stop thinking about…
“Dude.” A hand appeared in my field of vision, and Bennett’s face followed, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. “You okay?”
I grabbed his hand and let him haul me to my feet. The rink spun for a moment before settling. “Yeah. Fine.”
“You sure? Because that was brutal.” He steadied me with a hand on my shoulder. “What the fuck is going on with you? You’re skating like you’ve never seen ice before.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but my traitorous eyes drifted up to the stands, finding her.
Harlow was sitting up straighter now, concern creasing her forehead. But when our eyes met, that concern melted into something else. A smile tugged at her lips, and she raised one eyebrow in a gesture that clearly said smooth move.
The corners of my lips twitched into a smirk despite the throbbing in my skull. I loved the way she looked at me, and even more than that, I loved the way she smiled at me.
“Nothing,” I said to Bennett, too late.
Way too late because when I looked back at him, he was following my gaze up to the stands. Realization dawned across his face, confusion, then recognition, then a grin that made me want to slam him into the boards.
“Oh shit.” He laughed. “Is that Harlow Cruz?”
“Shut up.”
“It is.” His grin widened as we skated toward center ice, the rest of the team resetting for the next drill. “Holy shit. Jax’s sister? Really?”
“I said shut up.”
“I’m not judging.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I mean, I’m definitely judging a little. But seriously though, are you fucking Jax’s little sister?”
“There’s nothing going on.”
“Uh huh. That’s why she’s wearing your hoodie, and you just ate shit because you were too busy staring at her to see Brandon coming at you.”
I shot him a look that should have frozen him solid. “Drop it.”
“Consider it dropped.” He paused. “For now.”
Coach Cooper’s whistle cut through our conversation. “Let’s go. Five-on-five scrimmage. Taylor, you’re center. Try not to skate into any more damn walls.”
A few snickers rippled through the team. I absorbed them with the dignity of a man who definitely hadn’t just been laid out because he was too horny to play hockey.
The puck dropped.
I focused, shutting out everything except the ice beneath my blades and the players moving around me. The familiar rhythm of the game took over, reading the defense, anticipating the pass, and finding the opening.
Don’t look at her.
I didn’t look at her. I was focused.
Stanley passed me the puck. I caught it clean, deked around Ryder’s pathetic attempt at a check, and pushed toward the goal. The defense collapsed around me, three players converging, and for a split second, I saw it, the gap, tiny but there, just enough space to…
I wound up and fired.
The puck screamed off my stick, a blur of black rubber that sailed past the goalie’s glove and buried itself in the back of the net.
That’s more like it.
I allowed myself one glance toward the stands as I looped back to center ice. Harlow was on her feet, her book abandoned, her face split into a grin, and my chest did something embarrassing. She wasn’t cheering, but she was beaming, and somehow that was better.
I winked at her, and her cheeks flushed pink.
“Nice shot,” Bennett said, skating up beside me. “Very impressive. I’m sure Harlow thought so, too.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
He chuckled, and I tried to focus on the next play, but my mind kept drifting back to this morning. Not to the couch, though that was definitely taking up permanent residence in my memory, but to the phone call with Jax.
The conversation replayed in my head.
“Someone broke into the house?” Jax’s voice had been sharp with alarm.
“Not exactly,” I said, pacing my kitchen while Harlow watched me. “Turned out to be a cat. But she didn’t know that when she called me. She was terrified, man. Crying. Locked herself in the bathroom.”
A long pause. “Fuck. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine now. Shaken up, but fine. I got there as fast as I could.”
“Thank God you were close.” The relief in his voice was unmistakable. “I hate that she’s there alone. Kaia’s been worried about it since we left, but Harlow insisted she was fine. Stubborn as hell.”
“Listen,” I cut in, before I could lose my nerve. “I told her she could use my spare room. Until your parents get back. I don’t want her staying in that house by herself either.”
Another pause, and I held my breath, waiting for the questions. The suspicion. The ‘wait, why is my best friend offering to let Harlow live with him’ interrogation that should have followed.
It never came, and somehow that was so much worse.
“That’s perfect, actually.” Jax sounded relieved. “Thanks. Seriously. I feel better knowing she’s with you.”
His words twisted something in my chest, the guilt settling into my bones.
Because Jax hadn’t questioned it. Hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t even paused to consider that maybe there might be a reason I shouldn’t be living with his sister.
He trusted me.
He trusted me not to sleep with Harlow. Not to touch her. Not to pull her into my arms in the middle of the night and make her come apart beneath my hands.
Too late for that.
What kind of friend did that make me?
The kind who was going to figure out how to tell his best friend the truth. Eventually. When I had the words. When I understood what this was between us well enough to explain it.
Coach Cooper’s whistle blew again, three short bursts that signaled the end of practice. “Good work. Hit the showers. Taylor, try not to get distracted by the scenery on your way out.”
More snickers. I was definitely never going to live this down.
“So,” Bennett said, falling into step beside me as we skated toward the bench. “You going to tell me what’s actually going on, or do I have to guess?”
“Nothing is going on.”
“She’s wearing your hoodie.”
“She was cold.” I didn’t bother hiding the irritation in my voice.
“She’s watching you like you hung the moon.”
“She’s just…” I stopped, because I didn’t have a good answer for that one.
Bennett grinned. “That’s what I thought.”
I grabbed my water bottle from the bench, buying myself time. The guys were filtering toward the locker room, their voices echoing off the walls as they rehashed the practice. A few of them shot curious glances up at Harlow.
“Listen,” I said. “Whatever you think you know…”
“I think you’re fucking Jax’s sister,” Bennett said flatly. “And I think you’re both trying really hard to pretend that’s not what’s happening.”
“I… We…”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Look, man. I’m not going to say anything. It’s your life. But you might want to figure out how you’re going to explain this to Jax before someone else does.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” Not yet, anyway. We hadn’t even defined what this was between us.
“Sure.” Bennett’s tone suggested he didn’t believe a word of it.
I glanced toward the stands, looking for Harlow…
And froze.
She was still in the stands, but she wasn’t alone anymore. Some guy had slid into the seat next to her—tall, dark hair, smiling at her in a way that made me want to rearrange his face. He was leaning in, saying something that made her laugh, his body angled toward hers.
The jealousy hit me like a slap to the face. It was a dark, possessive thing that clawed up from somewhere primal and demanded I do something. March up those stairs. Put myself between her and whatever this asshole thought he was doing. Make it very, very clear that she was…
Mine.
The thought was so raw, so unexpected in its intensity, that it stopped me cold.
She wasn’t mine. Not really. Not in any way I could claim publicly.
We had one drunken night neither of us remembered, one incredible morning on the couch, and we agreed to keep it quiet while we figured things out.
That wasn’t a relationship. That wasn’t ownership, but try telling that to the jealousy currently turning my vision red at the edges.
The guy said something, and Harlow smiled, not the smile she gave me, but still a smile.
My hands clenched into fists at my sides.
“Easy there, killer.” Bennett’s voice cut through the red haze. “You’re going to snap that water bottle in half.”
I looked down. He was right. I was gripping the plastic so hard it was buckling under my fingers, water threatening to spray everywhere.
“Who the fuck is that?”
Bennett followed my gaze and shrugged. “Jace Porter. He’s in my physics class. He’s harmless.”
“He doesn’t look harmless.”
“He looks like he’s making conversation with a pretty girl.” Bennett raised an eyebrow. “Which, according to you, you have no claim over. Remember? Nothing’s going on?”
I wanted to punch Bennett, and I wanted to throat punch Jace. I wanted to run up those stairs and put myself between them to make it abundantly clear to every guy in this arena that she was off-limits because she was…mine.
But I couldn’t.
If I walked up there and kissed her, word would spread faster than a wildfire in the dry season. Someone would tell someone who would tell someone, and by the time I made it home, Jax would know. Everyone would know, and we weren’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready for that.
So I stood there like an idiot, watching some asshole smile at the girl I couldn’t publicly claim, and tried very hard not to spontaneously combust from the unfairness of it all.
Harlow glanced down toward the ice, toward me, and our eyes met.
Something flickered across her face. Recognition of what I was feeling, maybe. Or amusement at my barely concealed rage. Her lips quirked up at the corners, and she raised one eyebrow in a silent question.
Jealous?
I narrowed my eyes. Absolutely fucking not.
Her smile widened. She knew.
Jace said something else, and Harlow turned back to him, nodding politely. But I caught the way she shifted slightly away from him. The way she glanced back at me one more time, just for a second, like she was checking to make sure I was still watching.
I was.
I would probably always be watching.
“You’ve got it bad,” Bennett observed. “Like, really bad. Embarrassingly bad. I’m actually feeling secondhand embarrassment for you right now.”
“Thanks. That’s very helpful.”
“I try.” He shouldered his bag. “You coming to the locker room, or are you going to stand here and glare at Jace until he spontaneously catches fire?”
I tore my gaze away from the stands, and I grabbed my gear.
“Locker room,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Wow.” Bennett fell into step beside me. “I’m proud of you.”
“Shut up.”
“No, really. Walking away instead of committing assault? Very mature.”
“I will end you.”
“Empty threats from a man defeated by his own emotions. Love to see it.”
I pushed through the locker room door, dropped onto the bench in front of my locker, and stared at nothing.
This was going to be harder than I thought.
Not the hiding, though that was going to be its own special kind of hell. But the wanting. The constant, gnawing awareness of her. The jealousy that flared up every time someone else so much as looked in her direction.
My phone buzzed in my bag.
I dug it out, already knowing who it would be.
Harlow: You looked like you were about to commit murder out there.
Owen: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Harlow: Sure, you don’t. That’s why your water bottle is now shaped like an hourglass.
I glanced at the mangled bottle I tossed into my bag. She had a point.
Owen: Who was that guy?
Harlow: Jace. He’s in my Anatomy class. Wanted to know if I had notes from Tuesday.
Owen: He could have emailed you.
Harlow: He could have. But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see your face turn that particular shade of red.
Owen: My face was not red.
Harlow: It was adorable.
Owen: I’m not adorable.
I found myself smiling despite everything, the jealousy, the guilt, the conversation with Jax that kept replaying in my head.
Owen: Meet me outside the locker room in 20?
Harlow: Can’t wait.
I shoved the phone back in my bag, still smiling like an idiot.
Bennett was watching me from across the locker room, his expression knowing. He mimed a heart shape with his hands, and I flipped him off.
This was going to be a disaster.