39. Finn
FINN
Celebrations are going on all around me in the locker room, but I am immune to it all. For the first time, I’m not joining in with the rest of the team, not celebrating our win against NSU.
Instead of being sweet with victory, the air around me is thick, suffocating.
I’m distantly aware of skates clattering on the floor, the snap of a towel as the guys change out of their gear, but I barely register any of it.
It’s background noise to the questions flying like loose pucks inside my head.
The only thing in the room I am aware of is Dylan’s absence.
She was hauled into Coach’s office the second the final buzzer went.
That, and the fact that Griffin, Ethan, and Jax are as quiet as I am.
Like me, they aren’t partaking in the celebrations, not caught up in the high of the win.
Heck, looking at the four of us, you’d think the Steelhawks lost tonight when we fucking dominated.
Even if it was Dylan who was ultimately responsible for our destroying win. She was on fire out there tonight, especially in that third period. Until that video, I’d been loving every second of being on the ice with her. Watching her do her thing. Helpin g her. We were a solid team, and it showed.
But after? My body was in the game, going through the motions, but my head was elsewhere.
I drop onto the bench, ignoring the pumping music from someone’s phone and the general buzz of laughter around me as I rest my elbows on my knees and lean forward, closing my eyes. The images from the jumbotron play on a loop in my head.
I knew Dylan was getting close with the others, that lines had been crossed. But seeing her doing the exact same thing with guys from NSU…
What the fuck does that mean? Was she using us—them? Does she get off on screwing her teammates? I don’t understand. All I know is the bitter taste of the acidic bile that crawled up my throat as clip after clip played out before me.
I shake my head, willing the pictures away, but they are burned into my retinas.
Kyle was right.
He warned me. Fucking warned me and I didn’t listen. Continued to get close to her, unable to physically stay away. I groan into my hands.
I should have trusted him—my best fucking friend.
Whatever Dylan’s game is, it’s clear none of us meant a goddamn thing to her.
I was foolish to believe she was different. She’d wholly captured my attention that day she rocked up to the porch in her little denim shorts and Converse, and I wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, she was the kind of girl who meant the things she said.
But I was wrong.
So. Fucking. Wrong.
My head snaps up as a hand claps my shoulder, and I look up at Kyle’s pinched, sympathetic expression. “Come on.” He gestures toward the door, and barely sparing the others a glance, I grab my things and follow.
I’m not paying any attention to our surroundings as we leave the arena, as I drop into the passenger seat of Kyle’s Mercedes. The small town of Blackstone blurs past my window.
“I’m sorry, man,” he says, glancing my way. “I tried to warn you.”
My stomach knots. He did. And like the idiot I am, I ignored him.
“I just—I don’t get it,” I mutter. “She seemed?—”
“Convincing?” Kyle fills in, huffing a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I’m sure she did.” He shakes his head, another soft chuckle escaping. “Bench bunny suddenly sounds a lot more fitting.”
I grimace, turning away to stare absently out the window.
Even now, the thought of him—of anyone—referring to her that way pisses me off.
I hated it when Selena did it, although telling her to stop only made her do it more, but the thought of all that shit starting all over again pisses me off.
Even though it shouldn’t. Dylan’s true colors have been revealed now.
And I should be fucking done. Done with her. Done with this tangled mess of emotions gnawing on my gut any time I think of her, scent her bodywash in the bathroom, spy her from across the room.
“I hate that it had to happen this way,” he says a while later as we pull up to a lookout spot halfway up the mountain that overlooks Blackstone. Lights sparkle against the night sky, the lights of civilization competing with the stars above. “But at least now you know the truth.”
The truth. The word tastes bitter in my mouth.
And yet, something in his voice gives me pause.
Had to happen this way.
I frown, turning those words over in my head .
“Did you put together that video?” All the pieces slot into place. Our conversation the other week. Running into him in The Stanley right after that kiss with Dylan, The lack of surprise when the music cut out right before third period. “You did, didn’t you?”
There’s no contrition on his face. No guilt or shame. Equally, there’s no smugness either. He just stares expectantly back at me. Waiting.
“Why?”
“Because I need you to see— all of you to see— who she is. She doesn’t care about you. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to fracture the team from the inside so when scouts come, she looks like the best one of us on the ice.”
My brow furrows, but I don’t say anything.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t even share the worst of it, man.”
“What do you mean?” I ask almost nervously. How can there be more?
He hesitates just long enough to make my pulse spike. Then he pulls out his phone, taps the screen, and turns it toward me. The video plays, shaky and grainy, but clear enough. Dylan and Coach.
Coach’s hand on her back, lingering just a second too long. Dylan standing too close, her expression one of joy and affection I’ve never seen on her before. Coach hugging her on the front stoop of his house, late enough at night that the lights inside glow through his windows.
“I don’t—” I cut myself off, unable to say any more.
Kyle sighs, the sound heavy. “Apparently she was sleeping with her old coach too. It’s just what she does.” He shrugs casually, like he’s not destroying every single image of the girl I thought I knew. “She might be a great player—I’m not disputing that—but she’s got some serious issues. ”
The recording he’s taken plays again, and I stare at the screen in shock. Every muscle in my body is locked up tight.
She played us. Lied to us. And we fell for it.
Anger flares hot in my chest, burying away whatever was left of the doubt I’d been harboring. I look up at Kyle, my jaw tight. “We need to tell the others. They need to see this.”
Kyle nods, his expression solemn. “Yeah. They do.”