17. Dylan #2
I scoff as I grab a mug from the cupboard and fill it with coffee from the pot. “I was planning to.” I take a deep gulp, sighing softly as the warmth slides down my throat and settles in my belly. “I’ve known guys like Kyle my whole life. I know how to handle them.”
Turning, Ethan leans against the kitchen counter as he arches a brow. “You mean, guys like Lucas Tremble.”
I grimace, looking away and taking another sip from my mug. It doesn’t taste as good this time, though. “Yeah, guys like him.”
“He had some choice words to say about you last night.”
I attempt a tight smile over the lip of my mug. “I’m sure he did.”
Pushing off the counter, Ethan closes the distance between us.
“The Steelhawks aren’t the Glaciers. I won’t tolerate shit like that on my team.
I don’t tolerate people like Lucas on my team.
Kyle has always had an issue when there is fresh competition, but he’s never crossed a line before.
” At least, not one Ethan is aware of, but I keep my lips shut as he continues.
“Having said that, what he did—invading your privacy—is not okay, and I’ll make sure he knows what will happen if he goes anywhere near your room again. ”
My throat bobs, emotion lodged thick and unmoving in the back of it. “And what’s that?”
Lifting his head, Ethan’s stormy eyes pierce mine, as though boring into my soul. “He’ll have to find somewhere else to live because he’ll no longer be welcome in this house.”
Head down, I’m bent over my phone, ignoring the rest of the team as they trickle into the room ahead of our team meeting.
Conversations buzz around me, but I pay them no heed as I write out a text to Wren.
She messaged last night asking for a minute-by-minute play of the game.
She’d wanted to be there in person, but she works part-time at The Stanley bar on campus and couldn’t get her shift switched.
With everything that happened after the game, I never got a chance to respond, and she’s blown up my phone overnight with a kazillion messages.
I skim over most of them before typing out a reply.
Me
We lost.
I glance up as a broad frame fills the doorway.
Lips pressed into a hard line, Griffin scans the room, stopping when he spots me sitting in the far corner.
He stalks toward me, and I hastily rip my gaze away, absently scrolling through my phone.
We’ve barely spoken since the night of the party, going back to our amicable silence when we’re in the gym or doing our late-night practices on the ice.
Although I swear I see him around campus more than I used to—striding past my classrooms as I happen to walk out, entering the coffee shop shortly after I do.
I even thought I saw him lingering outside the library after my lunch date with Wren one day, but when I looked back, he was gone, so it’s entirely possible I imagined it.
I don’t know if I’m just more attuned to his presence or…
well, actually, there’s no logical alternative, so it must be that I just didn’t notice him before.
Though with the intensity of his presence drawing every eye in the vicinity, that seems impossible.
Truth be told, after what he did at the party, I don’t know what to say to him. He stuck up for me against Kyle—a warning that clearly the whole team has heeded. Not once since the party has anyone whispered about me sleeping with the coach. It’s a miracle, really.
My shoulders stiffen as I sense him approach, but I keep my gaze down, pretending not to notice until he moves past me, his arm brushing along my back between my shoulder blades.
I struggle to swallow, my entire body becoming attuned to his close proximity as he plops down on the seat directly behind me.
I dare to flick a glance over my shoulder, finding him slouching in his chair, legs sprawled out, his arms resting on the armrests like he owns the place.
“Hurricane.” He nods in greeting, and I blink at him before going back to my phone.
Hurricane.
Menace.
Thorn.
What is with these guys giving me less-than-flattering nicknames that make it seem like I’m the troublemaker? Why do I need a nickname at all? Using my name is perfectly acceptable.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I glance down, huffing a laugh as I read Wren’s response.
Wren
You lost?! That’s all you have to say to me after 11 hours of silence? I can’t believe you made me wait all night for a measly two-word response. Don’t you understand the meaning of play-by-play?
I’ve barely finished reading when another message from her pops up on the screen.
Wren
And don’t think you can get away with not telling me how it felt to go up against your old team .
I grimace, a shiver rolling down my spine at the memory of Lucas towering over me, threatening me. How did I not see what a grade-A asshole he was?
Except, no, that wasn’t the case. I knew he was an asshole, but when he stopped being an asshole to me, I was foolish enough to think I was privy to another side of him—a soft, sweet center that he didn’t show anyone else.
I was naively stupid enough to think I was the exception. That I was special.
After losing the most important man in my life, the one who made me feel like I was his everything, I wanted to be something to someone else. I wanted it so badly that I ignored all of Lucas’s red flags, eating up every crumb of attention he gave me like I’d spent months starving at sea.
I should have realized I could never recreate something so unique and special. Especially not with someone so spiteful and vindictive.
Ignoring Wren’s comment, I slip my phone into the pocket of my shorts and glance around.
It’s only then that I realize most of the team has arrived.
Jax and Ethan are seated a couple of chairs down from me in the same row—closer than usual.
I frown slightly. Strange . Normally, they’d sit nearer the front.
Coach strides in, a clipboard tucked under one arm and lips set in a grim line.
“Last night wasn’t great,” he bellows, getting straight into it as he levels his gaze on every single player in the room until we all fall silent, listening to our leader.
“But there’s no point in wasting energy crying about it.
What we are going to do is learn from it. ”
He’s interrupted when the door slams open, and Kyle stomps in. I immediately note the dark scowl on his face, and the reason for it…
Kyle Reed has one hell of a purple-black shiner.
The room bursts into life.
“Jesus, Reed, what happened to your face?” Matthews jeers .
“Fall on your ass and hit the boards too hard?” another player teases.
“Did you finally mouth off to the wrong guy, or is that just your new makeup routine?”
The comments come from all corners, the laughter sharp and quick, but Kyle ignores them all, his expression thunderous as he sinks into a chair beside Finn at the front of the room.
“Nice of you to join us, Reed,” Coach says dryly.
Kyle doesn’t reply, just slouches lower in his chair and crosses his arms like a sulking toddler.
My gaze flicks between him and Jax, whose face is impassive as he stares straight ahead. But the longer I look at him, the more I’m convinced— Jax gave him that black eye.
Coach claps his hands once. It’s enough to have everyone settling down and focusing on the front of the room once more.
He clicks a button on the remote in his hand, and the projector flicks to life, displaying a paused frame from last night’s game.
“Here’s the first breakdown,” he says, pointing to the screen.
“This play right here—lazy. No other word for it. If we’re not getting sticks on the puck in the neutral zone, we’re giving them a free pass to set up their offense. ”
He goes on, dissecting the game piece by piece. I try to focus, to soak in his critiques and make mental notes about what I need to improve, but I can’t stop glancing at Jax.
It’s during one such glance that I feel eyes on me. I stiffen in my chair, subtly scanning everyone else in the room, but no one else is looking this way. They’re all facing forward—toward Coach.
It’s then that I feel the prick of awareness on the back of my neck. Looking to the side, I notice that Griffin is still slouched in his chair behind me—the only one in the back row. However, he’s not intent on Coach, but on me .
“…and that’s what we’re doing at practice tonight,” Coach fi nishes. “Shake off last night and come ready to work. Dismissed.”
The guys start filing out, chairs scraping against the floor, voices rising in chatter.
I stand, making my way toward Jax with one question poised on my tongue— Why?
Why did he sit up all night gluing my mug back together?
Why did he punch his teammate, roommate, and friend for me?
Why does he care? —but Griffin steps into my path, blocking me.
His face is blank, unreadable, the way it always is, and his voice is sharp when he demands, “Why does Reed have a black eye?”
I blink, caught off guard, before flattening my lips. A refusal to tell him anything.
“Does it have anything to do with the fact you couldn’t keep your eyes off Keller for the past hour?”
It takes all of my self-control to keep from denying that. He was sitting right behind me; of course, he saw every furtive glance. Instead, I narrow my gaze on Griffin, a silent none of your business.
He studies me a moment longer before one side of his lips hitches in a feral smirk. As though my silence has confirmed something for him, and he’s delighted at the outcome. “Got it.”
He tucks his hands into his pockets and walks away, whistling a tune I don’t recognize but is somehow both upbeat and eerie. Like the tune in a horror movie right before shit gets gruesome. It sends shivers skating down my spine as I watch him leave, an ominous weight settling in my stomach.
Deciding that Griffin Price will do whatever Griffin Price wants to do and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it, I shake off the weird interaction before heading for the door.
I’m hoping to still chase down Jax. However, when I make it outside, Ethan’s car is pulling out of the lot, Jax sitting beside him in the passenger seat .
I stop in the parking lot, staring as the car disappears down the street. Perhaps it’s better this way. Better to leave last night in the past. Jax did a sweet thing, helping me in a raw moment, but that kiss…
That kiss was dangerous. If I let it, it could ruin everything.
As much as I might wish to feel Jax’s firm lips on mine, his hands sliding over my skin, I can’t risk it.
I can’t risk my position on this team.
I can’t risk my reputation.
And I can’t risk the shredded remains of my heart.