Chapter 12
Tip twelve; just fucking kiss them. (After consent though - stay safe out there)
Asher
My fist connects with his face and the sound is wrong.
Too loud.
Too sharp in the sudden silence of the arena.
Bone against bone. The crack echoes up the stands and the world freezes around it, like everyone inhaled at once and forgot to let it go.
Samuel stumbles back into the railing, shock splashed across his face before the pain catches up. His mouth opens like he's about to say something else, plead his innocence.
He doesn't get the chance.
Because I heard him.
All of it.
Lie back and take it.
Rumours.
Dain said she wasn't even-
That name.
Dain Chambers.
It lands like a fucking sucker punch to the gut.
Dain, who runs his mouth every time we play his team.
Dain, who cheap shots our buddies and laughs when refs look the other way.
Dain, who thrives on humiliation.
Dain, who treats girls like collateral damage and then plays the victim when someone calls him on it.
And now he's touched Ivy.
Fuck.
I shouldn't care. I really shouldn't care. But Dain?
Dain touched her. Humiliated her. He's the one who had her insecure about - fucking everything.
Because he made her feel small enough that other guys think they get to finish the job.
I don't remember deciding to swing.
I just do.
Leon is beside me instantly.
Not yelling.
Not swinging. He's a much better man than I am right now.
Just close enough that only I can hear him.
"If you ever come near my sister again," Leon says quietly, deadly calm, "I'll end your sports career before you even graduate. I'll make sure no team touches you. Ever."
Samuel's eyes flick to Leon, then back to me.
Jack swallows.
They both know Leon means it.
Security rushes in. Coaches are shouting. Someone grabs my jersey, tries to pull me back.
I don't fight it.
I've already done what I came to do.
My eyes search the stands on instinct - too fast, too obvious - trying to find Ivy, my sister. Trying to see if they're okay.
I catch Ivy's gaze for half a second.
She looks shaken. Pale. Furious.
I try to say I'm sorry with my eyes. Try to ask 'are you okay' without words.
But then she's gone.
Leon exhales beside me, sharp and controlled, and claps a hand on my shoulder like this is just another day.
"Thanks," he mutters. "For looking out for her."
The words land wrong.
Because if Leon knew what my thoughts do when Ivy looks at me - how she looked at me in that fucking closet the other day.
If he knew how hard I have to work not to touch her. Not to kiss her again.
He wouldn't be thanking me.
He'd be breaking my fucking jaw.
I nod once.
Nothing else.
Then I turn and skate back onto the ice.
· · ·
I play like I've been lit from the inside.
Every shift burns.
Every hit lands harder.
Every stride is fuelled by the memory of Samuel's voice and Dain's name sitting filthy in his mouth.
I score twice in the second period.
Once off a rebound, pure instinct.
Once shorthanded, ripping it past the goalie so hard the net rattles.
The crowd roars. My team swarms me.
Leon slams into me at the bench, laughing, wild-eyed. "You're a fucking menace tonight."
I don't laugh.
I don't feel good.
I feel sharp. Controlled. Wired too tight.
We win by two.
When the final buzzer sounds, adrenaline still hums under my skin like exposed wire. Sweat drips down my spine. My knuckles ache.
I should feel victorious.
I don't.
When we get back to the change rooms. I slip my phone from my locker, finger hovering over Ivy's name, debating whether I should text her or not.
Fuck it. I start typing.
Leon claps me on the shoulder, muttering something about our win and I quickly delete the message, shutting off my phone as I tune back into the world around me.