Chapter 11
Myles
The shrill scream of the whistle split the air, and I launched forward, my body reacting on instinct and training.
The gym blurred under my sneakers, and the world narrowed to noise and motion.
Sticks clashed, shouts echoed, and the cheering crowd fed the raw pulse of competition that lived somewhere deep inside of me.
The ball came loose off the draw. I saw it before anyone else—a small white flash against polished wood, and I lunged.
Stick down. Scoop. Up again before anyone else moved to oppose me.
One of the guys on the opposite team got a little too enthusiastic and slammed into me from the side, forcing me to sidestep.
The impact rattled through my arm, but I kept my grip and rhythm.
Cradle. Step. Move.
Somewhere on the sidelines, Ren was watching.
I always knew, and felt her eyes on me, even if I couldn’t spot her in the crowd.
She never missed a game, and I fucking loved her for it.
Every move I made had been cleaner since we got together.
I didn’t play for glory. I played for the calm that came when my chaos had a proper outlet. And…I played for her.
“Left, Myles!” Rory’s voice cut through the buzz of adrenaline.
The guy had lungs, I would give him that.
He was sprinting up the floor, weaving through defenders like they were standing still.
Rory was new to the team this year, but it didn’t show.
He moved with instinct, a rare ability that couldn’t be taught—the kind that came from somewhere deeper than training.
He was a soccer brat, and it showed with this quick footwork. He outmaneuvered with the best of them.
I shifted my weight and wound back. The pass flew clean and true, a silver arc across the floor. Rory caught it with ease in one fluid motion that drew a cheer from the crowd. He faked high, pivoted low, and let the shot fly.
It whizzed right past the goalie so fast that it took him a second to realize he was far too late.
“Fuck,” the Hawking Shore’s player beside me swore as we took the lead.
The bench erupted, and I couldn’t stop grinning as I jogged toward Rory.
“Hell of a shot,” I called out.
He turned, laughing, cheeks flushed under the cage of his helmet.
“You made it easy. I barely had to move to make the catch.”
I shook my head, clapped him on the shoulder.
“Just take the compliment, it’s deserved.”
We reset at mid-floor. Across the way, their captain glared, jaw tight, the kind of silent stare that said round two would be uglier. Fine. I’d been through worse than bruises. In fact, I welcomed him to try and rattle me. The whistle blew again, and I dug in, the world narrowing once more.
The gym was a war-zone. The ground beneath me thrummed, and my pulse matched the rhythm.
Somewhere beyond the noise, I swore I heard Ren yelling my name.
Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks—but it pushed me harder.
Every hit, every sprint, every pass was a reminder that the world was one fight after another.
But out here on the floor, I controlled my destiny.
I wanted to win, not just for points on a scoreboard, or bragging rights, but for control, for purpose, for something that had always felt like mine.
When the final horn blared, and the team crowded around Rory, I stood back, catching my breath. He deserved the attention after taking the winning shot. He had earned it.
Beneath the pride was a quiet ache. I knew just how quickly moments like this faded. Still, for now, the noise and smiles were enough.
Looking toward the stands, I searched for Ren. When our eyes met, I took a deep breath. I finally understood what it meant to build something worth protecting.
“Hey, Myles,” Rory called out as he jogged over. “The guys just invited us to go to Cue-B’s for dinner and pool. Are you in?”
“Why don’t ya come to Volatile instead? I was going there anyhow, and the new chef that Nash hired is incredible. Makes a hamburger taste like a five-star meal.”
Rory nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
“We’ll be headin’ out at seven. Are ya wantin’ a ride?”
“All good, I’ll get a ride with Cory. But we’ll follow you into town,” Rory said, running off just as Ren walked up.
“Well, hello there, Snowflake.” I gripped Ren’s hips and kissed her hard, soaking up all her sweetness and the little moan that escaped her lips. “Are ya up for a little socializin’ tonight?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“We’re going to Volatile. Get some food and relax, celebrate that we lived another week.” Her eyes grew sad as she placed her hand over my heart. “Shite…that came out really insensitive. I didn’t mean it to sound so callous.”
“No, it’s okay. I get it, and we should be happy that we are all still here. I know you didn’t mean anything. What about Lip? Are you picking him up this weekend?”
“Naw, he’s managed to sleep the last few nights. I dinnie wanna mess with it by yanking him out and takin’ him to the house where Ella was killed. I think it’s better if he has some space for now. Ya know?”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“Okay, I’ll go shower. Do you mind texting the guys to let them know? Invite whoever else ya want.”
She smiled, and I backed away before I dragged her with me for a repeat of our session at the boxing gym.
As I walked into the locker room, I caught the tail end of the conversation.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The last time I was there, the place was shot up, and people died,” Matt said.
“Dude, that was a one-off. It was totally random and could’ve happened in any city. Besides, Nash has done a ton of upgrades, including bulletproof glass. We’re good,” Rory answered.
I rounded the corner, and my teammates went deathly quiet.
“Don’t be clammin’ up on my account. Ya got somethin’ to say, say it.”
Matt, our goalie, stood up from the bench and crossed his arms.
“I’ll say it. People are nervous to go back to Volatile.
There are rumors of motorcycle club members hanging around, there was a drive-by on Halloween, and correct me if the rumor is wrong, but didn’t someone pull a murder suicide there on New Year’s Eve?
Come on, Myles, that is one hell of a track record.
No offense, but I want to eat my meal in a place where I don’t worry about dying. ”
“Fair enough,” I said with a nod, and walked over to my locker.
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
I stripped off everything but my shorts and grabbed a towel before addressing my team. I wasn’t the captain, but being one of the kings, they respected me anyway.
“I don’t know what ya want me to say. Yer not wrong, all that shite happened.
But I can tell ya that Rory is right. Nash has gone above and beyond to stop any potential threats.
He has put in so many extra safety features that it’s probably safer than Fort Knox.
But if yer not comfortable, I’m not gonna force ya. ”
Matt crossed his arms. “So, you’re still going to hang out there?”
“Aye, I am.”
“And you feel safe bringing Ren there?”
Ouch, now that one hurt. I glared at Matt, and he held up his hands.
“It’s a fair question,” he said.
“Aye, she’s coming and happy to do so, even though she almost died. So, what does that tell ya?”
Matt snorted. “That she either has a death wish or she’s stupid.”
I was across the locker room in three strides and had Matt slammed up against the lockers two more after that.
“Say it again…I dare ya,” I growled.
My arms flexed, and I was ready to kill him. I didn’t care if that sounded insane to anyone else. No one, and I meant no one, talked shit about Ren.
“I’m sorry,” Matt said.
He sounded genuine, so I let him go and glared at the stunned group.
“Go or don’t go, I don’t care either way. But if any of you so much as whispers Ren’s name or looks at her in a way that I don’t like…yer never gonna play lacrosse again, if ya can even walk after. Do I make myself clear?”
I’d played with most of these guys for four years, and I liked them all well enough, but I had boundaries.
Keith raised his hand from the back of the group like he was in class.
“Aye?”
“If you say it’s safe, then I believe you. I’ll go,” Keith said.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped away from Matt.
“We’re leaving at seven. Those who want to come to Volatile can meet me in front of the dorms. You’ll get VIP treatment. If you don’t want to, then no hard feelings so long as you keep my girlfriend’s name out of your mouth.”
After giving Matt one more hard look, I marched for the showers.
He had raised one excellent point that we needed to sort out.
The club’s numbers had dropped since Halloween, and our reputation had taken a massive hit that first night.
We needed to get people through the doors, and having a great chef wouldn’t accomplish that all on its own.
I needed to put on my thinking cap, or the club wouldn’t last another year without hemorrhaging money.