32. Finn
FINN
The gym is empty when I step inside. It’s late—super fucking late. I should be in bed, especially given my lack of sleep last night, brutal practice tonight, and the fact that we have a game tomorrow.
However, as soon as Dylan delivered her killing blow before getting out of the car, I knew I wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon. Instead, I’d texted Kyle to meet me at the gym and made the short walk to campus on foot.
“I shouldn’t have to be afraid for my safety all because I want to play a game.”
“I shouldn’t have to be scared to fall asleep at night. To be left in the house alone.”
“I shouldn’t have to stare into the faces of the men who attacked me every single day and know that they got away with it, and yet that’s the reality we live in. Worse, it’s one I don’t envision changing anytime soon.”
Dylan’s words play on repeat in my head, ripping me open and burrowing deeper with every loop.
I need to know.
I need to hear Kyle say it. That he didn’t attack Dylan .
Because the truth is, I’m starting to believe Dylan’s version. I’m starting to think he could have done it.
And what sort of shitty friend does that make me?
I met Kyle at peewee hockey camp when we were eleven, and sure, he has a bit of a temper and an arrogance issue, but introduce me to a single hockey player who doesn’t have either of those things.
I know he doesn’t like Dylan, but neither would I if it were my position she’d been gunning for. Disliking her doesn’t mean he attacked her.
So yeah, I just…need to know. I need to hear it from Kyle’s mouth because this tug-of-war I’m playing with myself is getting pretty fucking exhausting. I’m like an addict who keeps relapsing, going back for a fix of Dylan, only to wise up and back off until the next backslide.
While I wait for Kyle, I load up the barbell with weights before lying on the bench.
Wrapping my fingers around the bar, my muscles strain as I press it up before lowering it.
It’s not long before my arms begin to burn, however, the repetition does nothing to clear my mind, nothing to silence the voice in my head that’s been getting louder ever since Dylan shoved out of the car.
“I shouldn’t have to be scared.”
No. She shouldn’t, and the truth is, it fucking shredded me to hear that she is. Dylan is so strong. So tough, never truly letting anyone see how she’s feeling. Bar that night she was attacked, she’s never once shown any fear, but I swear I caught a flicker of it in her gaze tonight.
I push myself harder, doing more reps than I’d typically do. I lose myself in the monotony of it, forcing myself to focus on the screaming of my muscles, the burn searing up my arms, the sweat dripping down my face .
A weight drops onto the bench beside me, snapping me out of my state.
“You’re not going to be able to lift your stick tomorrow, never mind hold off an opponent,” he comments casually.
I rack the bar, sitting up, and he tosses me a towel.
“So what has you pumping iron in the middle of the night like you’re trying out for the World's Strongest Man?”
I wipe at the sweat along my forehead, my pulse pounding in my ears, though I don’t know if it’s from the workout or the conversation I’m about to start. “I need to ask you something.”
Kyle nods as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Shoot.”
Shifting so I’m facing him, I study his expression. The sharp jawline, the confident smirk that I very rarely see him drop, even when we’re alone like this. I heave out a long sigh, holding his gaze. “I need to know if you did it,” I state bluntly.
His expression doesn’t change. Doesn’t flicker, doesn’t falter. He blinks at me, head slightly cocked. “Did what?”
I grit my teeth. “You know what. Dylan. Did you?—”
“Jesus, Finn.” He exhales sharply, shifting on the bench as he shakes his head.
He’s quiet for a moment, looking off into space while his jaw tics.
He rubs at his chin with his hand, huffing a humorless laugh under his breath.
“I knew the others believed that little—” He cuts himself off, gaze whipping my way.
“But you?” He shakes his head again, eyes still boring into mine.
“I never thought you’d take a girl’s word over that of your best friend.
” Hurt flashes across his expression, stabbing me right in the heart.
Fuck.
“Do you really think I could do something like that?” he presses.
I don’t answer because the truth is, I don’t know what I think anymore. A part of me genuinely thought he might confess to attacking Dylan, but sitting here looking at him, hearing the hurt in his voice, makes me second-guess myself.
Kyle sits up, lips pursing as he seems to deliberate something before saying, “Look, I know you’ve been playing babysitter for her.
And I know she’s been feeding you all sorts of bullshit, but come on, man.
It’s me. Do you really believe I’d throw away everything?
My spot on the team, my future, my fucking life, just to go after some chick who stole my place? ”
Well, fuck, when he puts it like that, it does sound extreme.
Perhaps Dylan is wrong. She saw Kyle’s aggression on the ice and incorrectly assumed he’d be capable of that—and more—off of it, when in reality, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I saw for myself how mad he was when Dylan took his first-line spot. Saw the way he targeted her on the ice. And yeah, he’s always been aggressive, always played on the edge of dirty, but off the ice? He’s never been that guy.
At my continued silence, Kyle sighs. “I get it,” he says, sounding resigned. “You don’t know who to trust. She’s got you all twisted up. But let me ask you something, Finn. Do you even really know this girl?”
My stomach knots, my brow furrowing. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He leans back on his hands, his posture open and relaxed now. “I got talking with Lucas after the exhibition game.”
I scoff, “You expect me to believe anything Lucas says?”
Kyle shrugs. “I know he’s a dick, but he had no reason to lie. He said Dylan was the same back when she was at NSU. She was dating Lucas, but she was also hooking up with other players on the team.”
I frown, recalling my brief lapses in judgment when I’ve kissed her, along with other snippets I’ve noticed—her and Jax curled up on the sofa, the way she looks at Ethan sometimes, the feral possession in Griffin’s eyes when she’s in the room.
Except, she’s not dating any of them—of us. Not that I’m aware of anyway.
“Sound familiar?” Kyle questions, a lilt to his voice that makes me feel as though I’ve been a blind idiot.
“Sounds to me like Lucas is a scorned ex-boyfriend,” I retort.
“Maybe,” he responds easily. “But look at what she’s doing here. Cracks have been forming in the team ever since she arrived. Hell, you and I have barely spoken since Roster Day, and throughout it all, she comes out smelling like roses.”
I frown but remain quiet.
Kyle sighs. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. But she’s got Ethan, Jax, and Griffin wrapped around her finger. Don’t let her do the same to you.”
I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. I don’t want to believe him, but the doubt is already there, gnawing at the edges of my mind. Dylan is different, I know she is. But I also thought Kyle was different.
And now? I’m even more confused than I was before this little chat.
Rising, Kyle claps a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Just…be careful, all right? I don’t want to see you get played.”
I nod, but the unease in my gut doesn’t go away.
Because now, not only do I not know who to believe, but I feel as though I can’t even trust myself.