15. Dylan
DYLAN
My hands shake as I shove my gear into my bag with more force than necessary.
The adrenaline I relied on to hold it together on the ice has worn off, replaced by a sickening knot in my stomach.
I knew it would be hard to face them— him— but nothing could have prepared me for the onslaught of memories.
And not just bad ones, either.
Quiet moments. Sweet gestures. Soft touches.
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest, and I close my eyes.
Breathe in, breathe out. None of it was real , I remind myself for the umpteenth time.
However, that doesn’t eliminate the very real feelings I’d felt at the time, even if distance and a crash-landing into reality now makes me see that those feelings were born from grief and loneliness.
From feeling like I was all alone in the world, drowning in the weight of everything, and desperate for a lifeline to cling to.
Fiery rage lances through the still raw hurt, and I shove my helmet into the locker, imagining I’m smashing it into Lucas Tremble’s smirking face. There is truly no one I hate more than him. No one that disgusts me more .
Seeing him tonight…it brought everything back.
Everything that I’ve buried deep and successfully avoided since fleeing the NSU campus to start over.
Now, I can feel it all pressing beneath the surface of my skin, demanding to be acknowledged.
All that hurt. The embarrassment. The self-loathing and disgust. The chastising at how I could be so fucking naive and stupid…
I change faster than I ever have, barely registering the bruises already forming on my arms and legs, the dull ache at the back of my head from where those jackasses deliberately drove me into the boards, or the sting of my split lip as I shower and throw on my clothes.
While Coach gives his post-game speech, I sit impatiently, my knee bouncing and head resting against the locker behind me.
I don’t hear a single word, and the second he dismisses us, I’m up.
Half the guys are still in their gear, or have towels wrapped around their waists, but I’m ready to get the fuck out of here.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I duck out of the locker room without so much as a glance around or wave goodbye.
An amicable sort of peace might have been reached this past week, with only Kyle and some third-line guys glaring at me from a distance, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to join them at The Stanley to commiserate.
Hell, I bet Kyle is just waiting to get a drink in him so he can blame our loss on me despite the fact that I’m the only player who scored a goal tonight.
A rare, arrogant smile curls the corners of my lip as I recall the air whipping in my face, the smooth glide of ice beneath my skates.
That feeling of being unstoppable. Invincible.
It’s the best feeling in the world, surpassed only by scoring that last-minute goal.
It might not have won us the game, but I think it won me some respect amongst the team.
It showed them why I’m here, on the first line.
Proved that I can do more than run drills and play scrimmages.
Maybe now they’ll realize I’m here to fucking play. To win.
“Babe.”
I freeze barely ten steps from the locker room door. That voice. I’d recognize it anywhere. Where the smooth baritone was once a source of comfort, a sanctuary from my grief, it now scrapes up my spine like nails on a chalkboard.
I slowly turn on my heel, already bracing myself. There he is, in all his arrogant, hot-as-shit glory. Lucas Tremble leans casually against the wall, arms crossed like he’s got all the time in the world. He’s still wearing his hockey gear…almost like he was waiting for me.
As far as I’m concerned, we have nothing to say to one another.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, tightening my grip on the strap of my bag.
His smirk only deepens before he pushes off the wall, closing the distance between us. I bet he deliberately kept his skates on so he’d tower over me. Without them, we’re basically the same height, but as it is, I have to crane my neck to look up at him.
“But you used to love when I called you that.”
“Yeah, well, I used to love a lot of things that I eventually learned were toxic for me.”
He chuckles, low and condescending, not the least bit fazed at my insulting him. “Still feisty, huh? I always did like that about you.”
“You never liked a damn thing about me, Lucas.”
“Hmm, wrong.” His eyes rake over me, stripping me bare as he stalks closer.
I back up, hating how I feel when he’s this close—small, weak, stupid.
Like I’m right back in the worst time of my life.
“I always liked it when you moaned my name— begged it—while I was pounding into that sweet little pussy. ”
Shaking my head fervently, I step back farther. My strap slides over my shoulder, the bag knocking against my hip before falling to my feet, and I realize my back is literally against the wall.
“Leave me alone, Lucas.”
I force steel into my voice, but he takes no heed as he reaches out, twirling a strand of damp hair that has escaped the bun I scraped it into between his fingers. “You’ve missed me. Admit it.”
I slap his hand away, glaring. “About as much as I’d miss a UTI.”
His smirk twists into something darker, his eyes narrowing. This is the real Lucas. The one who gets off on messing with a grieving girl. Of stringing her along. Toying with her. Fucking her up so badly that she no longer knows up from down.
“You’re still so much fun to mess with.”
“I’m done playing your twisted games,” I tell him. “You got what you wanted, so leave me the hell alone.”
He pouts. An outsider looking in would think it was the cutest expression on his stereotypically handsome face, but I see it for the manipulation tactic it is.
Leaning in, I recoil as his warm, repugnant breath sticks to my skin.
“Did I, though? I might have gotten you off my team, but it looks like you still haven’t figured out you aren’t wanted here.
” His cold gaze flicks over my face. “Maybe I’ll keep playing with you until you’re nothing but a shattered mess.
Until the thought of stepping onto the ice makes you sick.
Until just seeing a hockey stick sends you spiraling, crying in some dark corner where you belong. ”
My stomach churns, bile rising up my throat. I’m on the verge of shoving past him and hoping he trips over his skates, when a voice cuts through the tension.
“Everything okay here? ”
I glance past Lucas’s shoulder to see Jax standing a few feet away. His expression is deceptively calm, but his dark eyes are locked on Lucas, sharp and unyielding.
Lucas steps back, but those hard, hateful eyes stay pinned on mine for a moment longer before his entire demeanor shifts. His body relaxes, his lips hooking up in his characteristic smirk. “Just catching up with my girl, here,” he says easily.
“I’m not your girl,” I snap, at the end of my tether.
“Mm, we’ll see.” Lucas finally backs off, turning his attention to Jax and flashing him a practiced, charismatic grin.
Jax doesn’t return it. He doesn’t say a word, just stares Lucas down until he chuckles, taking several steps backward down the tunnel.
“All right, I’m going. Got me some celebrating to do tonight.” He glances at me one last time, smirking. “I’ll see you around, babe.”
It’s not a throwaway comment. It’s a promise. One that chills me to the core.
I don’t breathe until he’s gone.
“You okay?” Jax asks when we’re alone, his voice low as he steps closer, moving into the spot Lucas just vacated.
Except his close proximity doesn’t send me spiraling—at least, not in the same way.
It doesn’t feel like he’s closing in around me, trapping me, kicking me until I’m two feet tall.
However, the hint of cedarwood and something minty-fresh as Jax takes up my entire field of vision makes me lightheaded.
Dizzy. The menacing darkness from a moment ago lifts, and instead, I feel safely cocooned in Jax’s presence.
Which…makes zero sense considering I know next to nothing about this guy.
Not trusting myself to speak, my head jerks in a quick nod.
He studies me for a moment, his brow furrowing. “You used to date that clown? ”
He sounds so put out at the notion that, somehow, magically, it actually makes me laugh. It’s a sharp, high-pitched sound, but it’s far better than the fear I was drowning in a moment ago.
“Yeah, not my best decision ever.”
He grunts an agreement before silence descends over the hallway like the first snowfall of winter—muted yet peaceful.
“Well, I should probably go?—”
“You played well tonight.”
We both speak at the same time, catching ourselves before chuckling.
“The whole team played well,” I tell him.
“Sure, but those assholes—” He points with his thumb over his shoulder in the vague direction of the away team’s locker room.
“—had it out for you . They were going after you hard out there.” He studies me, those astute eyes seeing more than I want him to.
More than I’m ready for. “Pretty clear you and your old team don’t get along. ”
I shrug, avoiding his gaze. “It’s old news.”
“Didn’t look like it.”
My eyes snap to his, and I swallow. “Lucas is…he has no power over me anymore.”
I’m not sure whether I’m saying those words for Jax or myself, but there’s something empowering about saying that out loud. I’m no longer in Lucas’s orbit, beneath his thumb, at his college, or on his team.
He can say what he wants, but the truth is…I’m free of him.
Jax’s penetrating stare holds me captive. I could swear he understands more than what I’m saying. Can dig deeper than anyone has cared to look before.