Chapter 35
Bliss
By the fourth day of being babied inside Hockey House, I was genuinely considering biting someone.
Not Cade.
Probably not Cade.
Maybe Cade.
Honestly, it depended on the hour.
The entire house had turned into a surveillance state with better cheekbones.
Private security stood outside like we were guarding a president, which was rude because no president had ever been forced to drink this much chamomile tea.
Aura and Charm had fully moved in under the excuse of “civilized supervision,” but really, they were scared to go back to the apartment without me, and I hated that so much I couldn’t even make a good joke about it without feeling like my ribs were breaking all over again.
The attorney Harrison Mercer hired had come to Cade’s bedroom like a calm, expensive omen in a suit and somehow managed to baby me while explaining warrants, victim statements, evidence preservation, and what not to say without counsel present.
He kept his voice gentle the whole time, which made me want to throw a pillow at him on principle.
Everyone was gentle now.
Everyone.
My dad called me Bug in a voice that sounded like he had swallowed glass.
Knox texted updates I knew were stripped down so I wouldn’t panic.
Ryker had gone quiet in a way that made every message from him feel like it was vibrating with murder.
Kellen, Emmitt, and Lyon rotated through with food, coffee, extra blankets, and that Bennett man hovering where they all looked like they wanted to pick me up and put me somewhere nobody could ever reach me again.
And Cade?
Cade was the worst of all.
Because Cade wasn’t really Cade.
He was there and not there at the same time, and it was slowly driving me out of my skin.
The opening season game was Friday, which meant two-a-day practices, film, press obligations, team meetings, captain responsibilities, and whatever other hockey cult rituals required tape, rage, and a locker room that probably smelled like feet and emotional suppression.
He left before I woke up half the time and came back looking exhausted, hair damp from a shower, jaw shadowed, body tight with restraint.
When he was with me, he was careful. Soft.
Gentle enough to make me want to scream into one of his expensive pillows until my ribs gave out.
He kissed my forehead.
My. Forehead.
Like I was eighty-seven and fragile and at risk of breaking a hip if his dick came near me.
He helped me with stairs. Brought me water. Checked my meds. Watched my face every time I breathed too hard. Slept beside me without pressing too close. Held me like he was terrified one wrong move would crack me open.
And I knew he was trying. I knew it. That was the part that made me feel insane. Because Cade Mercer doing everything right somehow felt wrong.
I missed him. I missed us. I missed the Cade who teased me until I wanted to punch him and kiss him in the same breath.
I missed the version of him who looked at me like I was the worst idea with the greatest end result he had ever fully committed to.
I missed him making me feel wanted, not monitored.
Desired, not protected. Like a girl he couldn’t wait to touch instead of a girl he was afraid to touch.
By the time I made my way downstairs that night, the house had settled into a weird quiet that felt unnatural for Hockey House.
No music shook the walls. No one yelled about beer pong.
No freshman had gotten lost in the hallway and started crying into a bag of chips.
The kitchen smelled like leftover pizza, clean counters, coffee, and the faint chemical-rink scent that clung to every guy in this place no matter how much laundry detergent they weaponized against it.
Briggs sat at the island eating cereal from a mixing bowl because apparently portion control was against his religion.
Rider leaned against the counter, scrolling on his phone with one ankle crossed over the other like he was too pretty to experience stress.
Ryan stood by the fridge drinking water, quiet and observant, while Easton hovered near the opening to the living room where Aura sat curled on one end of the couch under a blanket with her laptop open.
Charm was beside her in satin pajamas, pretending to read while absolutely watching Easton watch Aura.
I shuffled into the kitchen in Cade’s oversized Fury hoodie, sleep shorts, fuzzy socks, and the kind of emotional instability that should’ve come with a warning label.
Briggs looked up first and immediately froze with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “I don’t like that face.”
“My face is bruised,” I said. “Be respectful.”
“No, that’s your I’m-about-to-start-something face.”
“That face is also bruised.”
Rider’s mouth twitched. “Still recognizable.”
I pointed at him. “You’re on thin ice, background hot guy.”
Ryan slowly lowered his water bottle. “Ouch.”
“Rude. Maybe I should call Cade?” Briggs said, petty enough to tell me he had taken “background hot guy” personally.
“No,” I said too quickly.
All three of them looked at me, and I hated men with pattern recognition.
“I am getting coffee,” I announced with dignity. “Please stop acting like I’m about to slip into a coma because I did it my damn self.”
Briggs glanced at Rider. “Is coffee code for something? Because she is being mean, and I don’t know why yet.”
“It is now,” Charm called from the living room.
Aura didn’t look up from her laptop. “Bliss, don’t climb on anything.”
I stopped with my hand halfway to the cabinet.
The disrespect.
“Aura,” I said, turning my head slowly, “I have known you since we were born, and I need you to understand how close this friendship is to becoming a Netflix legal documentary.”
She looked up then, one brow arched. “Good. I’ll defend myself.”
Briggs whispered, “That was hot.”
Easton’s head turned.
Briggs immediately held both hands up. “Respectfully. Legally. From a distance.”
I ignored all of them and reached for the mug on the second shelf because I was twenty-one years old, almost twenty-two, and I refused to be defeated by ceramics. The second I stretched too far, pain snapped through my ribs so hard my breath caught.
Every single person moved.
Briggs half-stood. Rider pushed off the counter. Ryan stepped forward. Easton was suddenly in the kitchen doorway. Aura’s laptop hit the couch cushion. Charm gasped like I had been shot.
I slammed my hand down on the counter and turned on all of them. “Everybody stop fucking twitching.”
The room froze.
“I reached for a mug. I did not enter war.”
Briggs sat back down slowly. “The vibes were confusing.”
“The vibes are I want a latte and autonomy.”
Aura stood anyway.
“No.” I pointed at her. “Do not law-student talk me down.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You absolutely were.”
Charm pressed her lips together like she was trying not to laugh and cry at the same time. That was basically the house mood now. Everyone lived in a constant state of please don’t die and also please say something funny so we can breathe.
Before anyone could decide whether to keep hovering, the back door opened.
Cade walked in.
My entire body reacted like an idiot.
He looked wrecked in the hottest, most infuriating way possible.
Black athletic pants. Fury training shirt clinging to his shoulders.
Hair damp from a shower. A gym bag slung over one arm.
Exhaustion sat beneath his eyes, but the second he saw me in the kitchen, that sharp, focused Cade awareness cut through all of it.
His gaze dropped.
My cheek.
My throat.
My ribs.
The scan.
Again.
Something inside me snapped tight.
“There’s the injury inventory,” I said.
Cade stopped near the mudroom, his bag sliding off his shoulder and hitting the floor with a dull thud. “The what?”
“That.” I gestured at his face, which was rude of me because his face had done nothing except be devastating and perfect. “The injury inventory. The emotionally repressed medical audit. The very organized obsession, but make it WebMD.”
His jaw flexed. “You’re holding your side.”
“I am holding my side because my side is attached to me.”
“You were reaching.”
“For a mug.”
“You shouldn’t be reaching.”
A laugh burst out of me, sharp and humorless. “Oh my gosh.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You are all impossible.”
“Bliss,” Aura warned from the living room.
“No.” I held up one hand without looking at her. “I am having a moment.”
Cade’s attention didn’t leave me. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I have been resting for four days. I have rested so hard I might legally qualify as furniture.”
Briggs’s mouth opened.
Cade’s eyes cut to him. “Don’t.”
Briggs shut it.
Good. Fine. Whatever. Maybe captain voice was useful.
Cade moved toward me, and I hated how badly my body liked it.
Four days of him being careful, four days of forehead kisses and soft hands and enough restraint to make me want to crawl out of my own skin, and now all it took was him walking across a kitchen to make my pulse trip over itself like a drunk girl in heels.
“You need to sit down,” he said.
The entire kitchen went still, and I lifted my brows.
Rider made a tiny sound under his breath and looked at the floor. Ryan closed his eyes like he had just witnessed a preventable crash. Aura muttered something from the living room that sounded suspiciously like, “wrong move.”
I stared at Cade. “Excuse me?”
He heard my tone and still chose gentle when I was clearly choosing violence.
His expression tightened, but he didn’t back off. “You’re hurting.”
“I am always hurting right now. That doesn’t mean you get to captain me in the kitchen.”
“Pip.”
“No.” My voice sharpened enough that Charm sat up straighter on the couch. “Do not Pip me like I’m being difficult because I want to make my own tea.”
“You winced.”