Chapter 10
JENSEN
I slap my stick on the ground, calling for the puck, and Burnsy passes it to me on cue. I can see the play in my mind and the weaknesses in their defense, all at once. As soon as it reaches me, I kick the puck over to Reed, who slaps it toward Kos, deflecting it straight into the net.
“Yes!” I scream, the blade of my stick flying in the air as we all skate together in celebration.
Coach Carrington—our head coach—claps his hands as we skate toward the bench, and after a quick water break, we set back up at center ice to run power play special teams again, this time with a different line against us.
Kos wins the face-off, and we maintain possession, flying past the blue line, Costy leading the way with the puck on his stick. He dekes out one of the defensemen and finds an opening, straight down the slot.
Taking full advantage of the opportunity, he pulls left, leading Matty, our goalie, out of his sweet spot before reversing to the right and flicking his wrist.
The puck sinks into the back of the net, and once again, we huddle up, praising Costy for his play.
Coach Carrington swaps out a few of the players, trying different lines with different defensive pairs until we’re all exhausted and the practice comes to an end.
After the final goal of the day, Coach blows his whistle, and we all head back to the bench to wrap up.
Skates dig into the ice behind me, and by the time I hear him coming, it’s too late.
Burnsy slams into me, giggling like a little schoolgirl.
Catching myself, I tighten the muscles in my legs, but at the last second, I have to throw my left leg forward to balance myself out.
My knee lights up in pain, screaming at me while I stay completely silent and unyielding.
“Shit, JD. You good?” Burnsy grabs my shoulders, realizing that I’m not joking along with him, like I usually would after a little jab like this.
“Yeah.” I force the word out through my shaky exhale. “Just give me a second.”
“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs, keeping his arm around my shoulders as we glide toward the bench.
The pain starts to fade, not entirely, but enough to play the part that it’s just fine because it is … totally fine. Everything’s under control.
Coach Carrington gives his wrap-up talk, going over what’s coming next, what to look forward to, and what he wants to see changed and improved.
To be honest, I tune a lot of it out. He dismisses most of us, but asks his goalies to stay behind to go over some goalie things.
I have no idea what happens between goalies and the coach aside from conversations I’ve overheard.
While goalies are a crucial part of the game and an active member of the team, their role is drastically different from everyone else. They play an isolated game, often times even staying out of timeout huddles and skating around on their own. They’re fascinating, strange creatures.
Kos, Costy, and Burnsy fall into conversation, but I can’t hear a word they’re saying because all I hear is Sam—one of our newer Nighthawks players—mumble under his breath, “Damn, the new PT is fucking hot.”
My gaze is already hunting, searching for where she’s at, and it takes me but a second to lock eyes with her in the tunnel behind the bench, waiting with some of the other staff.
Her hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and even from here, I can see how much it’s making her eyes pop. Her face is unreadable, and I can’t tell if she’s mean-mugging me or if she looks concerned—either is too much to bear.
I still can’t believe she read me so easily in the exam room last week. Now, I’m having to rely on her to help hide my secret, even if I know how dumb it is to keep it in the first place.
“She can examine me any day. Hell, I might fake an injury just to see her.” One of the other rookies, Ryan, chuckles.
Even though she’s not mine, even though I have no right defending her honor, as she claims, all I can see is red when Sam mutters, “I can help her stretch out if she wants.”
Wrapping my arms around each of their shoulders, I slide between them, scruffing the neck of their jerseys like feral cats, holding them firmly in place.
They both look my way, eyes wide and breath quickening with fear. I don’t look away from Lainey. I hold her stare the entire time.
“If you two fucks say another word about our new PT, if you hit on her or make her feel uncomfortable, I’ll have you hanging in the locker room by your panties before you can blink.” I squeeze them tighter, this time meeting their eyes one by one. “Got it?”
People have often told me that I’m intimidating and scary when I’m mad, and hell if that doesn’t seem like the truth by the way these two are looking at me right now.
“Yeah. Got it.”
“Yep.”
They stutter through their words, and I release them, watching them skate off the ice with their tails between their legs.
Looking up where Lainey is, I find the space empty, and my shoulders fall. I’ll find her later. We need to talk again—and this time without us nearly getting into a full-blown argument.
Expelling the breath I was holding, I spin around, expecting to find the boys still yapping about whatever dumb thing was on topic, but instead they’re all facing me, shit-eating-grins on their faces.
In tandem, all four of their mouths open—to say something annoying, I’m sure—but I beat them to it.
“Not. One. Word.”
“How long have you been banging the new PT?” Costy asks with a smug smirk, and I glare at him. He chuckles and shrugs, counting on his fingers. “What? That wasn’t one word. That was nine!”
“I’m going to kill you,” I say deadpan.
Kos clears his throat, looking as stoic as ever. “We’re waiting.”
“For what?” I scoff, my hands flicking upward at my sides.
He smiles. “For you to open your damn mouth and tell us what’s going on between you and her.”
“For real, JD, I’ve never seen you heated like that over anyone before. What’s your guys’ deal?” Burnsy asks, hearts in his lover-boy eyes.
“What?” I get defensive, knowing damn well none of them are buying my denial. “There’s nothing going on.”
They all burst out laughing, and I flip them off before skating off the ice to head to the locker room.
I know that’s not the end of the conversation, but it is for now because I can’t handle their teasing and jokes with the way my knee is throbbing. I need to get my leg up and ice it.
Better yet, maybe I’ll hop in the ice bath quickly before heading home.
The staff usually always have a couple ready to go, and we never let them go to waste.
They aren’t my favorite thing in the world, but the cold might be a nice shock to the system, especially with how hot-blooded Lainey is making me.
I change in the locker room and rinse off before heading to the recovery room, where the ice baths are set up.
Thankfully, only Franco, a defenseman for the Nighthawks, is in here, in one of two baths, with an eye mask on and headphones, giving me all the privacy I could want.
Setting my clothes and belongings down on the bench next to the free tub, I jump up and down a couple of times, primarily on my right leg, hyping myself up to get in.
I count myself down from three.
Three. Two. One.
Inhaling a big breath, I step into the freezing cold water and lower myself down with my arms on the edge. Fucking hell, I don’t remember it being this cold last time.
Sinking deeper into the water, I sit down on the bottom, letting the waves rise to my chest. It must be too cold this time or something because, suddenly, my chest feels like it’s going to collapse, and my lungs can barely open up.
I hear splashing next to me, and I realize that I must’ve closed my eyes at some point. Forcing them open, I watch Franco get out of the tub, dry off, and exit the room without a word, leaving me all alone.
My breathing suddenly quickens, and I push down on my arms, lifting myself a little higher out of the depths. My eyes flutter shut, and it’s like a train slams into me out of nowhere.
I’m flying off that bridge all over again, crashing into the river. Everything’s ice cold. Every breath strangled. Every second longer than the last.
Oh God, I’m still in the car. I never fucking left.
I can hear the water filling up. I can smell the old air freshener Carly used to hang on her mirror. I can hear Adam Levine’s damn voice.
Oh God, I’m really there, aren’t I? Did I ever get out? Or was everything since then a dream, conjured up in my state of panic?
My eyes burn, my fists clench tightly around something, and I can’t move. I can’t move a single muscle. I’m frozen solid.
Why is this happening right now? I didn’t freak out the last time I took an ice bath. Why, all of a sudden, is my past attacking me?
“Jensen.” Carly’s voice cuts through the silence, and my heart tears in two all over again.
I can see her in my mind as clearly as I thought I could that day, in the seat next to me, telling me to escape.
“Carly,” I whimper, begging, pleading with my body to move, but I’m not in control right now. I’m failing, just like I did then. I’m pathetic, and I can’t even save my sister or myself.
I’m gasping for air, flailing about as I try to stay above water.
Fuck. Why is this happening right now?
“Jensen.” I hear a voice again, but this time, it doesn’t sound like Carly. “I’m right here.”
My labored breathing echoes in my ears, and I worry that I’ll never escape the car, this memory, this moment in time that has defined my life.
Like a jolt of electricity striking through me, soft, delicate fingers wrap around my forearm, and my eyes fly open.
Lainey’s face is warped with sadness and grief, tears welling in her eyes.
For a second, I’m taken back to the time when we were best friends. When she’d sit on the bathroom floor while I showered in her bathroom, just in case I had a panic attack, like I am right now.
They used to be horrible. Hot water. Cold water. It didn’t matter; it all affected me the same. She was there through it all, helping me through every single one.
But I got over that. I haven’t had a panic attack like this in nearly two years. Now, she’s back in my life, dredging up old feelings and pain that I thought I’d moved on from.
I don’t think someone ever truly moves on from this soul-aching kind of pain, the kind that comes out of nowhere and cuts you like a knife. A glimpse of a photograph, a passing thought, or a song can thrust you right back into the agony as if you never left.
I don’t want her to see me like this again. I don’t want to need her like I always used to. Yet here I am, my body and mind at her whim, her touch like the calm to my storming seas.
“Hey, you’re okay.” Her thumb strokes my arm, yanking me from my thoughts, and I feel the world around me start to settle back down. “Come on. Let’s get you out of there.”
When she turns to the side to grab a towel, her neck stretches into the light, and I catch a glimpse of something that I know wasn’t there before—a scar.
It looks big and must’ve been fairly deep to have scarred that thick.
What the fuck happened? Who did that? And why haven’t I heard about it before now?
My anguish and worry feed on the anger, finding an outlet in the rage. I will kill whoever fucking did this.
How could she not tell me? How could she not run to me when this happened, like I would’ve to her? We’ve always been each other’s safe space, but I feel betrayal that I won’t always be hers.
She faces me again and sucks in a breath when she sees me staring at her scar.
Her voice is colder like our encounters before, shielded. “Get out of the bath, Jensen. I need to go.”
Tucking my knees up, I stand out of the water, feeling it cascade down my body in tiny streams. I fix my swim trunks from hugging me so tightly, and when I look up, this time, it’s her I find staring.
“You like the view?” I tease her, feeling my muscles tighten beneath her gaze. The cold water isn’t helping hide them, only enhancing the mounds of my abs and sharpness of the V-line running into my shorts.
Her cheeks light up, and her eyes drift back up my torso, slower than expected, until they meet my gaze. From her calculated stare, my dick twitches, and thankfully, she doesn’t notice.
Crossing her arms, she huffs. “If anything, I’d have thought you would want to be at peak conditioning for this level of hockey. But it looks like there’s still room for improvement.”
Stepping out of the tub, I stride toward her, grabbing the towel from her hands and wrapping it around my waist without breaking eye contact. I tuck it into itself, letting it ride low on my hips.
I can practically see her heartbeat thumping in the side of her neck. I know she feels the same way I do, the same way we’ve always felt toward one another.
I take another step toward her, and she cranes her neck back to hold my stare, not backing down from my challenging gaze.
“Room for improvement, huh?”
“Yeah.” She scowls. “A lot of it.”
I want to push her, to flirt with her more, to see if she notices this connection as much as I do, but I don’t want her to hate me for it, which is exactly what would happen since she’s still with Cole.
“If you say so,” I murmur, tearing my gaze from hers as I grab my clothes from the bench. “Are you going to stay and watch me change or …”
She feigns disgust and turns on her heel, striding toward the door. “Don’t forget your appointment tomorrow.”
“With you? I’d never.”