Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
DYLAN
The puck hits the boards with a hollow crack, but I barely flinch. I’m late on the pass again. Too slow. Too fucking distracted.
“Winters, what the hell was that?” Coach barks from the bench.
I mutter an apology, skating hard after the next drill. My legs are heavy. My stick feels like it’s dipped in concrete. And it’s not because I’m tired.
It’s because Mia’s not here. And I don’t know how to shut it off.
Jonno catches me as I come off the ice. “Get your head in the game, Diesel,” he mutters low enough that Coach can’t hear. “You’re skating like you left your brain in the locker room.”
I grimace. “Sorry. Rough night.”
With my body feeling heavy and my mind jaded I drop down on the bench. Murphy’s eyes sharpen. “You talk to Mia?”
I nod, pulling off my gloves and flexing my hands. They feel empty without her touch. “Yeah. She’s home with her family. Her dad’s…” I trail off, jaw locking.
Murphy claps a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Family comes first, mate. Always.”
I nod again; my throat’s too tight for words right now.
I hit the showers faster than usual, the scalding water doing nothing to wash away the heavy ache in my chest. I miss her. Like physically miss her. It’s a weird and alien feeling for me. Apart from my mum, I’ve never missed being around anyone in my life before.
And not just the easy stuff; her mouth on mine, her hands skating over my skin, her body curling into me in the dark.
It’s the small things. The way she rolls her eyes when I tease her.
The way she tugs on the sleeves of her hoodie when she's thinking hard.
The way her laugh punches right through all the dark shit in my head and leaves the world brighter.
I swipe my phone off the bench as soon as I’m dressed, my thumb hovering over her contact.
No new messages.
Not that I blame her. She’s got enough to deal with. I check the time, I’m not sure how long the appointment was supposed to last today, but I’m pretty sure they should be back by now.
So, I fire off a text anyway. I figure if she’s busy, she won’t answer until later. But at least she’ll know I’m thinking about her.
Dylan: Miss you, beautiful. Hope you’re holding up. Text me if you need anything. Even if it’s just someone to tell you how fucking incredible you are.
I stare at the screen like a loser for way too long before tucking it away and heading out of the stadium. Gotta keep moving. Gotta stay sharp. But it feels hollow without her.
By the time I get home, I’m wired and restless, my body buzzing with the kind of energy that has nowhere good to go. Usually, I’d hit the punching bag. Or grab a beer with Murphy and bitch about the world until the edge wears off.
Tonight, I just pace. I make it halfway through heating up some crap frozen dinner before giving up and tossing it in the bin.
My phone stays glued to my hand. Every time it buzzes, my heart leaps like an idiot. Every time it’s not her, it sinks lower.
I end up sprawled on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through old photos on my phone. The ones of us at the rink. That night she dragged me into the supply closet after practice because my ankle was bothering me, and we ended up tangled together, breathless and laughing against the door.
The one at my place, when she wore my hoodie, made me coffee and kissed me like she was scared to fall but couldn’t stop herself anyway.
I close my eyes, remembering the way she tastes. The way her body fits against mine like it was made to be there. My hand drifts lower without thinking, palming myself through my sweats.
Fuck.
Everything about her undoes me. The smart mouth. The stubborn pride.
The fierce heart she tries so damn hard to hide.
And she wants me. I saw it in her eyes the last night we were together. Even if she can’t say the words yet.
I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through gritted teeth, trying to handle the hunger twisting low and hot in my gut.
It’s not about getting her under me again. It’s about having her. All of her. The thought of anyone else touching her, or looking at her, has my hands curling into fists.
But it’s not jealousy. It’s fear. Because I know I’m standing on the edge of something I can’t control, something that could wreck me if she doesn’t fall with me.
I’d risk it anyway. For Mia, I’d risk anything.
Later, after I’ve burned off some of the crazy lifting weights in my garage gym, I crash into bed without bothering to shower again. I lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, wishing like hell she was here beside me. Wishing I could hold her while she fights through whatever’s coming.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I snatch it up so fast I nearly drop it.
Mia: Sorry for the late reply. It’s been a rough day. I miss you too. So much.
A rough breath escapes me, part relief, part pain. I type back, fingers flying over the keys.
Dylan: I’m here whenever you need me. You’re not alone, baby. Not ever.
There’s a long pause. For a second, I think maybe she’s fallen asleep. But then she replies.
Mia: I wish you were here with me. Wish I could crawl into bed with you and let you hold me until everything stops hurting.
I swallow hard, my heart punching against my ribs. The thought of her hurting and not being able to do anything to stop it hurts like hell.
Dylan: Baby, if you were here right now, I’d pull you into my arms and not let go. I’d kiss you until you forgot everything else. I’d make you feel so loved you’d never doubt it again.
The three dots blink and disappear several times and my gut clenches at what she’s going through. But finally, she responds.
Mia: You already do.
I let the phone drop onto the bed beside me, a stupid, aching smile pulling at my mouth. It’s three words, that’s all, but they hold so much weight. They mean everything. I’m so fucking gone for this girl. And no matter how scary, I wouldn’t change it for anything.