Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
SUTTON
By Monday morning, everyone knows about the fight.
I'm walking across campus when I hear them—a group of guys from the team talking near the student center.
"Hayes broke his hand over some girl drama," one of them says. "Fucking stupid."
"I heard she's the one who caused it. Her ex showed up, and Declan lost it."
"Why is he even with her? She's nothing but trouble."
I keep walking, my face burning. I pull my hood up and duck my head, hoping no one recognizes me.
But the comments follow me everywhere.
By lunch, I want to disappear.
People are acting like I grabbed his hand and swung. Like I begged him to hit Cole.
Keira finds me hiding in a corner of the science building.
"There you are. I've been texting you."
"Sorry. My phone's off."
"Because people are being assholes?"
"Something like that." I close my textbook. "Everyone thinks this is my fault."
"It's not your fault. Cole is a creep who wouldn't take no for an answer. I think it’s hot that Declan defended you. Super alpha."
I smile. “It was very sweet, but he didn’t need to hit him. I mean, I wanted to hit Cole, but I didn’t want Declan to hurt his hand.”
“Cole has been harassing you for weeks. He got what was coming. Hopefully, he got the message and will leave you alone.”
“I’m still not sure it was worth it,” I mutter. “I seem to keep making myself the star of gossip lately. I’ve managed to pretty much go unnoticed the last four years, and now I’m a walking scandal.”
"People always have something to say. Ignore them. Look, I know you and Hayes have a complicated situation. But don't let the court of public opinion make you feel guilty for existing."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
The rest of my day pretty much goes the same way.
Finally, I was free. I walked out of my last class thinking about the big sandwich I was going to make when I got home. I was starving. I didn’t dare go to the cafeteria. It would be nothing but gossip and stares.
I wanted to be invisible again.
I’m thinking about the thick cheese slices in the fridge. I bought the good stuff with my tips the other night.
I smell her before I see her. That rich, thick scent of expensive perfume that’s better suited for an eighty-year-old woman than a twenty-two-year-old cheerleader.
Of course, I couldn’t get through the day without coming face-to-face with Bree.
"Oh! Sutton!" She steps back like I'm contagious. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."
"Sure you didn't."
"I heard about Declan's hand. That's so unfortunate." Her voice drips with fake sympathy. "Right before the big game, too."
"Yeah. Unfortunate."
"You know, if he had someone who really understood his world, this kind of thing wouldn't happen." She examines her nails. "Someone who knows how to handle attention. How to de-escalate situations before they become problems. Someone who wouldn’t have an ex that would be a problem."
"Someone like you?"
"I didn't say that." But her smile says exactly that. "I'm just saying, Declan needs someone who can support his career. Not someone who creates obstacles."
"I'm not creating obstacles."
"Aren't you? He broke his hand defending your honor or whatever. That's very romantic, I guess. But also incredibly stupid when he has scouts watching." She leans in conspiratorially. "Between you and me? I think he's starting to realize you're more trouble than you're worth."
The words hit like a slap.
"Stay away from me, Bree."
"Or what? You'll get your boyfriend to punch me, too?" She laughs. "Oh, wait, he can't. His hand's broken."
I walk away before I do something I'll regret.
I need to see him. Need to see for myself that he's okay.
I put aside all thoughts of big, meaty sandwiches and decide to watch the guys practice. It’s a thing I’ve never been fond of. A handful of girls always watch the guys and drool over them.
I guess I’m going to be one of those girls today.
Practice is already underway when I slip into the stands. I find a seat in the upper section, hoping no one will notice me.
Declan is on the ice, running drills with the team.
He's skating normally. Stick handling. Taking shots.
He doesn't look injured at all.
I watch him for twenty minutes, my guilt warring with relief. He seems fine. Better than fine. He's playing at the same level he always does.
Thank God.
Maybe I've been overreacting.
I head down, hoping to leave before he notices me.
Coach blows the whistle for a water break.
The team skates to the bench. That's when Declan looks up and sees me.
His face lights up.
He says something to Ashton, then skates over to the boards and waves me over.
"Hey!" he calls out. "What are you doing here?"
I make my way down to the lower section, where I can actually talk to him without having to shout.
"I wanted to see you," I say. "See that you're okay."
"I'm okay." He holds up his taped hand. "See? Still kicking their asses."
That makes me laugh despite everything. "You're ridiculous."
"But you love me."
"I do." I lean against the boards. "How does it feel?"
"Honestly? Barely notice it. The tape helps." He flexes his fingers slightly. "The doctor was being overly cautious with the two-week thing."
“You’re sure?”
"I'm fine, Sutton. Really." His expression softens. "Stop worrying."
"I can't help it. Everyone is convinced I cut off your right hand and your left foot."
He chuckles. "I don't care what everyone's saying. Do you know how many guys on this team have played with broken bones?" He gestures to the bench. "Ashton played half of last season with a fractured rib. Pierce has a pin in his ankle. Crew broke his nose three separate times and kept playing."
I sigh. “I know. I just hate it.”
“Baby, I'm not going to regret defending you. I'm not going to wish I'd done something different." He squeezes my hand. “I don’t get to play white knight very often. I liked it. I might punch somebody else. Who’s bugging you? Point me in their direction, and I’ll handle it.”
“That’s not funny.”
He winks at me. “It’s a little funny.”
Coach's whistle blows.
"Hayes! Get back on the ice!"
"One second, Coach!" Declan looks back at me. "I'll see you at home?"
"Yeah. I'll be there."
He leans in and kisses me quickly. "Stop worrying. I'm fine. We're fine. Everything's fine."
"You're very optimistic for someone with a broken bone."
"That's because I've got you." He grins. "And honestly? Worth it."
"You keep saying that."
"Because I keep meaning it." Another whistle from Coach. "Okay, I really have to go before he makes us run suicides."
"Go. I'll see you later."
I watch him skate back to the team. Ashton says something that makes him laugh. Pierce shoves his shoulder playfully.
I go home, make myself that sandwich, and tell myself everything is fine. I’ll do a better job of watching out for him.
No more fistfights on my behalf.