56. Dylan
DYLAN
The student-athlete library is unusually calm for a weeknight, the kind of quiet that settles in just before dinner when everyone else is either heading to the dining hall or pretending they’re going to study later.
Griffin, Ethan, Finn, and I have spread out over a table in the center of the room, notepads open and books strewn across the table.
While I’m all caught up on my schoolwork—the only upside to being benched and thus having nothing else to do with myself while my body heals and recovers—apparently Finn is swamped with assignments.
Ethan, unsurprisingly, is as on top of his work as I am.
As for Griffin…I have no idea. He’s the only one who hasn’t got books out in front of him, too busy staring at me for the past thirty minutes since he arrived, but that by no means suggests he doesn’t have work he should be focusing on instead.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” I muse, nudging his shoulder. He’s leaning back in his chair beside me, legs sprawled out like he owns the damn place, and his eyes on me while I finish off an assignment.
“Yes, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate it if I bent you over and fucked you in the middle of the library. ”
Despite the traitorous flutter in my belly, I send him a withering glare.
Having overheard him, Ethan sputters while Finn laughs like it’s all one big hilarious joke. It’s not, I can tell by Griffin’s expression that he’s dead serious. Griffin doesn’t joke about fucking me.
I shake my head, going back to focus on the textbook lying open in front of me. “I mean schoolwork. Don’t you have any studying you need to do?”
“I’m a visual learner,” he replies, voice low and unbothered. “Besides, you’re my favorite subject.”
Finn hums in agreement from where he’s sitting across the table from me.
I whip a harsh glare in his direction. Entirely unfazed, he flashes me a grin.
“You’re my favorite subject too, Hellion.
” His gaze rakes over me lasciviously, only heating my skin further.
Damn, boys. This is why I should have studied with Wren.
Ethan doesn’t look up from his laptop as he interrupts, “Try focusing on econ, idiots.” His fingers fly rapidly across the keyboard. “Exams are only a few weeks away.”
Finn nudges me under the table with his foot, the ball of his sneaker brushing my ankle. I shoot him a look, but his innocent expression is ruined by the mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Mm, I’m not sure I can wait a few weeks.”
The insinuation in his tone is blatant, and the air grows thick and heavy.
“Seriously?” I drawl, trying to act like I’m entirely unaffected when he knows damn well I’m not.
Arching a brow, he brushes his shoe over my leg again. A little higher this time.
I subtly shift and accidentally kick him back. He just laughs under his breath, eyes sparkling like he’s thoroughly enjoying himself .
Ethan sighs, flitting his gaze around the table before dragging his hand down his face. “Remind me why I hang out with any of you?”
“Because you love us,” Finn singsongs.
“Because we’re the only ones who will put up with you,” Griffin says at the same time.
“Because you’d implode without the ability to micromanage everything around you,” I offer sweetly.
Ethan lifts his eyes to mine, unimpressed. Of course, that’s when a yawn rips out of me. He immediately sits straighter in his chair, eyes raking over my face with concern. “Are you tired? Did you not sleep well last night? Was it?—”
“I’m fine.” My tone is exasperated. It’s been a week of him—of all of them—fussing over me, and it’s safe to say that I’m over it. “I got my full eight hours of sleep. It was just a yawn.”
Eyes narrowed, he continues to watch me, even after I’ve chosen to ignore his existence and focus back on my own work.
“Do you have a headache?”
The pen I’m clutching threatens to snap in half as I glower at him. “What?”
“You’re rubbing your temple.” He gestures toward where my free hand is rubbing circles into the side of my head. Shit, I hadn’t realized I was doing that, and now that he mentions it, there is a slight throbbing behind my eyes.
I hastily drop my hand from my face. “It’s nothing.”
His expression is flat, skeptical. “You’ve done enough studying for today.”
“I just need to finish this assignment and then I’m done,” I snap at him. I’m about to lay into him for being a hovering mother hen when he reminds me why I put up with his bullshit. “How about we get in a practice session after this—just the five of us?”
The beginnings of my headache instantly fade, and the energy that was flagging a second ago surges forward. I haven’t been on the ice since… that game. That night.
“Nothing intense,” Ethan presses. “Just light drills.”
Griffin perks up, but it’s nothing compared to the way my whole body lifts at the suggestion. “Seriously?”
Ethan nods. “Doctor cleared you to start easing back in. We’re easing.”
I grin. I can’t help it.
Hell yeah!
Finn’s leg brushes against mine, and Griffin leans into my space.
I can’t take my eyes off of Ethan, though.
His lips lift in a smile, his eyes dancing.
He knows how badly I’ve been dying to get back on the ice.
The trainer cleared me this morning, but with classes, I haven’t had a chance to actually get skates on my feet and get out there.
“Hey,” Finn says, drawing my attention. “How is your mom doing?”
Internally, I wince. My mother is such a sore topic, but I don’t think that’s ever going to change.
It’s just how she is now. It’s sweet of Finn to ask, though.
After her meltdown at the hospital, they’ve all been asking about her.
She’s back in Oak Haven, and I made a point of switching my emergency contact number to Bear so she doesn’t get called the next time I invariably end up in the hospital—hopefully for a bog-standard hockey accident and not a near-murder attempt.
“She’s doing good,” I tell him, offering a grateful smile. “They’ve upped her meds and she seems to be a bit more…balanced.”
Still barely accepting any of my phone calls, though. However, the few times she has, she sounds more like the mom from the hospital. The one I remember from before. So, I haven’t completely given up hope. I’m just…guarded .
The library door opens and Jax strolls in with a coffee carrier in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.
He beelines straight for our table. “Sorry I’m late. Had to make a detour,” he says, setting the cup down beside me. “I know you like the hazelnut one from the campus café, and I got you one of those muffins you like.”
My heart squeezes. “You didn’t have to?—”
He shrugs. “I wanted to.”
“You bring us anything?” Finn demands, reaching for the bag.
Jax yanks it back just in time. “Nope. Get your own.”
Finn gapes. “Unbelievable. Not even a single cookie?”
“Nope.”
“Not very team-player behavior,” Finn continues to grouse.
Griffin flashes a wicked grin at him across the table. “Pretty sure these are particular muffin privileges. Maybe if you put out.”
Finn’s nose wrinkles before he retorts. “And yet, I don’t see your muffin privileges. ”
Still grinning, Griffin flips him his middle finger.
“You idiots can put out all you want,” Jax interjects, pulling out the free seat beside me and dropping into it. “There’s only one person I’m interested in spooning—or being spooned by—and it sure as hell isn’t either of you.”
As if to hammer home his statement, he leans over and presses a kiss to my lips. It’s quick, chaste, but no less tantalizing.
“Fantastic,” Ethan drawls, sounding like an exasperated parent trying to corral wayward children. “Now that we’ve clarified that, can we get back to work?” His gaze slides to mine. “I promised Thorn we’d take her out on the ice when we’re done.”
Fuck yes!
“You heard the captain.” I fix Griffin, Finn, and Jax with my most serious expression. “If any one of you eat into my ice time with your bullshit, nobody will be spooning anybody.”
“Cold, Hellion,” Finn teases with a cunning grin. “So cold.”
My only response is to glare at him until he goes back to work.
Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, is going to stand in my way of getting back on the ice tonight.
I’m sore in that deep, bone-heavy way that tells me I’ll be paying for this tomorrow, but I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. My chest is burning, my muscles are screaming, and my shoulder is already starting to throb, but none of that matters.
I’m back.
The familiar scrape of my blades against the ice, the sting of cold air on my cheeks, the way the puck snapped against my stick when I finally nailed that pass—all of it has me feeling alive in a way nothing else does.
There’s freedom out here. Control.
And right now, even if just for a second, I feel like myself again.
I coast to a stop at the edge of the rink, stepping off the ice and onto the bench with a groan that’s half laughter, half regret. Dropping onto the seat, I lean back and roll my shoulder out slowly. Yeah. Tomorrow’s going to suck.
A second later, Ethan sinks down beside me and presses a bottle of water and some pain meds into my hand. I take them gratefully and glance over at him.
Griffin, Jax, and Finn are still on the ice, finishing up a drill—quick passes, rapid pivots, laser-focused. My guys. My team.
I take a long sip of water, then glance up toward the wall of the rink. The familiar number stares back at me .
#19. Callahan.
My dad’s jersey, framed beneath the spotlights above the tunnel. My throat tightens. I’ve looked up at that jersey a thousand times, but tonight…it feels different.
Whole.
“He’d be proud of everything you’ve achieved,” Ethan says, his voice low, thoughtful.
I don’t look at him. I can’t. Not right away.
“He always wanted me to be a Steelhawk,” I murmur, a soft smile tugging at my lips.
Ethan shakes his head beside me. “Not just as a player.”
I blink, surprised, and finally turn to face him.