26. Dylan
DYLAN
The trainer’s hands are careful but firm as he presses along my ribs, feeling for anything more serious than bruising. I wince when he prods at my side, a dull ache radiating through me.
“Careful,” Ethan snaps from where he stands a few feet away, arms crossed, watching everything with a hard-set jaw. The trainer tenses, glancing from me to him and back to me.
“You good?”
I nod, before flashing Ethan a hard stare.
He simply meets it with a glare of his own until I roll my eyes and focus back on the trainer.
While he completes his assessment, my mind drifts back to this morning.
The way Ethan looked at me in the soft light filtering through my bedroom window.
The vow he made. I’ll be someone you can trust.
I don’t have many of those—people I can trust. And God , I want to believe him.
I want to trust in Ethan. I could see how torn up he was that he didn’t see what Kyle and the others were doing, even though that was the whole point.
They deliberately kept their attacks subtle enough that no one else would notice.
Griffin was the only one who did, and I’m pretty sure that’s only because the psycho watches my every move. He’d probably know if something was wrong with me before I did, that’s how closely he pays attention.
But trust isn’t something I give easily, and no matter how much I may want to trust in Ethan, I need him to show me he’s not another Lucas.
I already know he doesn’t have Lucas’s hateful intent. That he doesn’t view me the same way, but I need him to prove to me that he won’t just turn a blind eye. That he won’t let Kyle and the others get away with what they’ve been doing.
The door to the training room slams open, cutting through my thoughts.
“Jesus Christ, Carter.”
Bear’s voice is sharp, rough with something I don’t want to name.
His eyes rake over me, taking in the bruises along my arms, the cut on my temple, the way I’m sitting gingerly on the table.
His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s holding himself back from storming across the room.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bear so…livid.
Ethan straightens, stepping partially in front of me…as if to block Bear. “Coach?—”
Bear’s eyes snap to him, and just like that, his expression hardens, locking away every ounce of emotion that was just etched into the lines of his face. He doesn’t acknowledge Ethan beyond a nod, turning instead to the trainer. “What’s the damage?”
The trainer clears his throat. “Bruised ribs, possible bruised kidney. She needs to rest and avoid anything that puts strain on her core for at least a week. After that, light activity before easing back into full-contact practice. No games until she’s completely cleared.”
My shoulders slump. “How long is that likely to be?”
“Two, maybe three weeks.”
“But— ”
“You heard the man, Carter. You’re benched until you’ve healed.”
Coach’s order lands with a crushing blow.
Friday is the first game of the season. The first time I get to start on the first line in a season game…
and I’m fucking benched. Which means fucking Kyle will be starting in my spot.
My teeth grind, fury numbing the pain I feel with every inhale.
Or perhaps that’s the ibuprofen Ethan made me swallow before we left the house.
Coach exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “I want a moment alone with Dylan.” He looks pointedly at Ethan and the trainer. With a nod, the trainer leaves, but Ethan hesitates, his weight shifting as he looks between me and Coach. “I should stay?—”
“I’ll be fine,” I cut in before Bear can lose it, which he looks like he’s two seconds away from doing.
And judging by the look on his face, it wouldn’t be just words he’d use on Ethan.
I meet Ethan’s gaze, offering him a reassuring smile.
“I could actually really do with a coffee—one of the ones from the café, with lots of syrup and cinnamon sprinkled on top.” I flutter my eyelashes, giving him my best please look.
He studies me, his jaw working, before he finally huffs an exhale. “Fine.” He gives Coach a long look, although I have no idea what he thinks Bear is going to do to me. It’s almost…amusing. “I’ll be right back,” he says before finally stepping out of the room.
The moment the door closes, Bear exhales, closing the distance between us. He goes to wrap me in an infamous Bear hug, but he pauses, hesitating out of fear of hurting me. I roll my eyes. “Come here. I’m not going to break.”
Next thing, I’m wrapped up tight in his arms. It hurts. My ribs scream at me, but I don’t care. Nothing beats a Bear hug. His chin rests on top of my head, and I can feel the rigidity in his shoulders. “Kid…” His voice is rough but not like before. This time, it’s tainted with worry.
I bite the inside of my cheek, ignoring the burn of tears in my eyes.
I’ve been doing a pretty stellar job of keeping it together, but in Bear’s arms, all I want to do is fall apart.
“It looks worse than it is.” My own voice is husky, watery with the extent of the emotions I’m struggling to keep at bay.
He moves back just enough to meet my gaze, and the look in his eyes nearly undoes me.
This isn’t my coach standing in front of me.
This is the man who has looked out for me since my dad died.
Who gave me a place to land when I fucked up at NSU.
Who has treated me like a daughter since the day and hour I was born.
“I hate that I had to find out from Ethan. You should have called me.”
I swallow. “There wasn’t time.”
He pulls me in for another hug. “I can’t believe you were attacked right outside. I’m going to speak to the dean about upping security. There’s no excuse for what happened.”
When he pulls back, his hands linger on my arms, his gaze scanning my face. “Are the guys taking care of you? Are you safe in that house? You could come stay with me.”
I shake my head, ignoring the slight pounding in my temples. “That’d only make things worse. Ethan and the others have been taking care of me,” I assure him. “I’m fine.”
His lips press into a hard line, but he nods. “If anything changes…”
“I know.”
His grip tightens for a second before he finally lets me go, stepping back. He exhales and scrubs a hand over his face, dragging his fingers through his hair. “And you didn’t see who it was?”
I shake my head, hating that that’s my response every time someone asks that question. “There were three of them. Guys, based on their height and build, but that’s all I got.”
His jaw tics, before he exhales harshly, turning away, like he’s struggling to get himself under control. “Have you talked to your mother?” he asks, turning back around to face me.
“No. I didn’t want to worry her.”
His eyes soften with sympathy. “She’d want to know?—”
“She’s got enough on her plate,” I cut in, ending the discussion.
Bear knows what things are like now, but he doesn’t know the full extent.
He doesn’t know that most of the time, my mom doesn’t even take my calls.
And when she does, she’s a blubbering mess down the phone or so spaced out on meds that she has no idea who she’s talking to.
“You’re not to tell her, either,” I warn him.
His lips purse, and I can tell he wants to argue, but thankfully he chooses to let it go. “I won’t,” he promises. “It’s your call.”
“She doesn’t need to know.”
He doesn’t argue, but the look on his face says he disagrees. Whatever, I know I’m making the right call. After our stare-off has dragged out for a long, tedious moment, he huffs an exhale and marches over toward the door. Throwing it open, he gestures for the trainer to come back in.
Coach takes up Ethan’s former stance beside me while the trainer runs through various exercises and we discuss a physio plan for the rest of the week. By the time Ethan returns with my coffee in hand, Bear is back to being our formidable coach.
However, before we leave, Bear steps up to Ethan, his expression hard and stance brimming with authority, and there’s an edge to him that wasn’t there before.
“It’s your responsibility to take care of her,” he barks at Ethan.
I open my mouth to tell him that it’s really not.
Regardless of his demeanor, Bear is not acting as our coach right now.
He’s behaving like a scared parent, and even though it warms my heart, it’s unnecessary.
What he is asking of Ethan is beyond captain duties. Beyond roommate duties, too.
Except before I can say any of that, Ethan agrees. “I promise, she will be well taken care of.”
Despite the pain and exhaustion pulling at me, I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“She shouldn’t be alone on campus,” Bear continues with his ludicrous demands. “Not after this. And at the house—” His jaw tightens. “You make damn sure she’s not left alone. If whoever did this comes back…”
A shiver rakes down my spine. My fingers curl tighter around the hot drink Ethan just handed me, but the warmth does nothing to chase away the ice forming in my chest.
Because my attackers weren’t just some faceless threat.
One of them was Kyle. I know it was.
And he doesn’t need to come back .
He never left.
He sleeps under the same roof as me. He moves through the same spaces. He’s a fox in the hen house, and from here on out, I’m going to be sleeping with one eye open. Is the lock on my door enough to keep him out? Something tells me not for long.
Bear’s gaze cuts to me, sharp but unreadable. He must see something on my face, though, because his expression darkens. His next words are for Ethan, but I swear they’re meant for me too.
“She’s not alone. Not for one damn second.”
Ethan nods, stiff and solemn. “Understood.”