Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DYLAN
The bus ride ends too soon, and we’re pulling into The Raptor’s lot just after midday; the sky’s that dull grey that promises nothing but drizzle, and everyone starts grabbing their gear and scattering to their cars like the last twenty-four hours never happened.
But it did, and I, for one, can’t stop thinking about it.
I wait near the doors while the rest of the guys file off. Murphy throws me a pointed look and a half-smirk like he knows I’m stalling. Maybe he does but I ignore it and grab my bag. Slinging it over my shoulder.
Mia walks past me without a word, without looking at me, and it takes everything I’ve got not to reach for her wrist and pull her back. But I don’t. I just watch her go.
The cold air bites when I step off the bus, and my body’s sore in that post-game way, with my shoulders tight, and knees stiff, like the adrenaline has finally burned out and left me hollow. But it’s not just that. It’s her.
It’s that conversation on the coach.
The way she looked at me like she was fighting herself not to reach out. Like she wanted to say yes. But she didn’t.
I hit the button on my keys and my car beeps in the distance.
The lot is half empty already. Everyone vanishes fast after a win.
They’re desperate to get home and crash, so they can recover and forget about the game until the next training session.
I slide into the driver’s seat and drop my head back against the headrest. My fingers tap restlessly on the wheel.
I should go home. But instead, I sit there, engine off, radio silent, staring out the windshield like the answer to all this is gonna write itself across the sky. I keep going over the moment she said, “I can’t risk throwing it away because I can’t think straight when you look at me.”
She said it like it hurt her to admit it. Like it killed her to say it out loud. And that’s the part that’s got me reeling. Because it’s not one-sided. She feels it too, whatever the hell this is between us. And yet here we are, playing pretend. Again.
I scrub a hand over my face and flick the key forward in the ignition.
The engine purrs to life and as I glance around before pulling out, I notice something. A few rows across, Mia’s still in her car. Her hazard lights flash once, then nothing. Her door cracks open and she steps out, eyebrows drawn together, popping the hood.
I kill the engine and climb out without thinking. She doesn’t see me until I’m halfway to her, standing in front of the open hood with a frown and her phone in her hand. She looks up like she’s not surprised. Like maybe she was hoping I’d come over.
“Dead?” I ask, nodding toward the car.
“Won’t start,” she sighs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Turned over once and then nothing. Battery maybe. I don’t know.”
“You call anyone?”
She glances down at her phone. “AA has a wait time of two hours. And I left my jump cables at home because apparently, I’m an optimist now.” She shrugs her shoulders in defeat.
I smile a little, stepping in beside her to take a look. Not that I’m an expert, but the silence when I try the ignition myself isn’t a good sign. I shut the door again. “No spark. It’s probably the battery. Or the starter motor.”
She leans against the frame, with her arms folded across her chest, and she gives me a look that’s part exasperation, part tired. “Of course it is.”
The wind picks up slightly, and has her tugging her coat tighter around her. The sky spits faint drops of rain, just enough to annoy. She’s shivering, even though she’s trying to act like she’s not.
I glance toward my car. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. I want to. You can call the breakdown company and cancel, I’ll get my mate to tow it to his garage and fix it for you. It’ll be cheaper than the AA and he owes me a favour.”
She hesitates. There’s that flicker of resistance again, that protective wall she puts up whenever we get too close. But after a beat, she nods. “Alright.”
With a nod, I grab her bags from the boot and we walk to my car in silence, and I can feel the tension still clinging to her. To both of us. The aftermath of last night’s kiss and the weight of this thing we keep circling around like we’re afraid to touch it.
I open the car door for her and she slides into the passenger seat, pulls the seatbelt over her chest, and exhales slowly like she’s preparing herself for whatever might happen next.
Once I know she’s safe, I close her door gently and walk around the car to climb in.
I start the car and pull out of the lot.
Firing up the sat nav, I say “Put your address in,” and she leans across the centre console and starts to type.
We drive in silence at first. The kind of quiet that’s almost loud. Every second stretches like it’s trying to tell us something we’re not brave enough to say. Then she speaks. “You don’t have to look after me, you know.”
I glance over, with my brow furrowed. “Is that what you think this is?”
“I think you’re used to being the guy who fixes things. Takes care of people. Maybe you think I need that too.”
I grip the wheel tighter. “I don’t think you need me, Mia.
” She doesn’t say anything, and I sigh, slowing slightly as we hit a red light.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. “It’s not about needing.
” My voice is rough, and low. “I just want to be the person you don’t have to guard yourself around all the damn time. ”
Her eyes stay fixed on the road ahead. “That’s not fair.”
“No. Maybe not.” I rest my elbow on the door, fingers brushing my lips. “But it’s the truth.”
We drive a few more blocks before she speaks again. “You make it really hard to stay professional.”
That draws a humourless chuckle from me. “Good. Because you make it impossible for me to be anything but real.”
She looks at me then. And I can feel her stare more than I see it. Like heat spreading under my skin. “Dylan…”
“I know.” I glance over. “Coach. Teammates. Risking your job. I get it.”
“Do you?” she asks, her voice barely audible.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Because I’ve spent half my life trying to live up to someone else’s rules too.” The words hang between us. I didn’t mean to say it like that. To bring him into it. But once it’s out there, I can’t pull it back.
Mia shifts slightly in her seat. “Your dad?”
I nod once.
She doesn’t press, but I keep going anyway.
“He didn’t talk to me for a year after I signed my first pro contract.
Said it should’ve been him. That I got the life he never did.
And maybe he’s right. But he stopped being proud of me the second I got what he couldn’t.
” She’s quiet, but I can feel her listening.
“It screws with your head, you know? When the one person you want approval from acts like you don’t deserve it.
So yeah, maybe I do try to take care of people.
Maybe I try too hard sometimes. But it’s better than feeling like I’m still chasing someone who’s never gonna say ‘well done.’”
Mia’s gaze softens. “You don’t have to chase anyone, Dylan.”
I flick a glance at her. “Yeah? Then why does it still feel like I’m running?”
She doesn’t answer.
We pull onto her street a minute later. I park outside her flat and kill the engine, but neither of us moves to get out. It’s quiet for a moment. Then she shifts to face me slightly. “Last night…” she starts, then stops. “It wasn’t nothing.”
I stare ahead, my jaw tight and I can feel it ticking beneath the skin. “Didn’t feel like nothing.”
“But it still can’t happen again.”
That punches a hole straight through my chest. “Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t matter how good it felt, or how much I want it. What matters is what comes after. The looks. The whispers. The questions about whether I slept my way into this job.”
I turn to her then, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You think I’d let anyone talk about you like that?”
She shakes her head, her eyes are fierce but sad. “It wouldn’t be about what you’d let happen. It’d be about what they think. And I can’t control that.”
I lean my head back against the seat, trying to catch my breath.
She opens the door, rain drizzling lightly now, and hesitates before stepping out. “I meant what I said on the coach,” she says softly, looking back at me. “This job is everything. But that doesn’t mean you’re nothing.”
And with that, she closes the door behind her.
I sit there momentarily watching her walk towards her front door, staring after her like some lovesick idiot. Like a guy who just got hit by a puck straight to the heart and doesn’t know how to breathe anymore. Because she meant that. And somehow, it hurts worse than if she hadn’t.
The moment over takes me and without thinking, I jump out of the car and follow her up the path.
Mia glances over her shoulder, and there’s a gentle hint of smile as she turns to unlock the door.
“I suppose I owe you a coffee, and you do need to call that friend of yours to get my car towed.” She pushes the door open and stands to the side, allowing me to pass her.
I nod quickly, as I wipe my feet on the mat. “Coffee would be good.”