25. Screw Fate
Chapter Twenty-Five
Screw Fate
DYLAN
“You seem overly happy,” Eli said as he taped his stick on the bench next to me.
The locker room was loud tonight. It was our seventh game of the season.
We were up with four wins and just two losses.
I’d gotten a good amount of playtime, too, and could feel myself getting better and settling into my routine.
I never really had the goal of jumping to the NHL—mainly because I felt good playing with my pack here—but that didn’t stop recruiters from reaching out to my manager about it.
Apparently the emails and call requests had doubled in the last two weeks.
That wasn’t all that had me on cloud nine, though. “I’m just a happy guy,” I said.
I’m just his good boy.
I chanced a fleeting glance toward Miles, who was across the locker room taping Emmy’s ankles.
“Uh huh,” Eli said. “I’ve seen that look, you know. I’ve felt it actually.”
Fucking hell. “Am I that obvious?” I asked in a near whisper. The room was loud with music blasting and guys chirping but instincts still had me keeping my voice low.
Miles had a meeting with Coach before the game. We hadn’t had a chance to talk between then and now, so I still wasn’t entirely sure that the wolf was out of the bag yet. Our full moon night happened almost a week ago and I still couldn’t stop thinking about it.
But had things somehow changed for Miles? What if he wasn’t even genuine that night? Just taken for a ride on the rush of a full moon shift…
“Kind of. But you were never good at acting.”
“Nope. Took a theatre class in college once and the teacher asked me if I had any other career goals in mind.”
Eli laughed at that. “I didn’t know you wanted to be an actor.”
“Yeah, because it died after that class freshman year.” I bent down to tie the laces of my skates. Even though Eli was a human, he was still part of my pack, and I knew I could trust him like a brother. “I think we’re fated, Eli.”
“I had a feeling.” He kept his response calm. No one would be able to pick up on what we were talking about underneath the pre-game chaos in the locker room.
“But it hasn’t been as easy as you and Gabe. He doesn’t feel it for some reason. Not the same way I do. And, fuck, it kind of fucks with my head.”
Eli paused from putting on his shoulder pads. “Really? He’s said that?”
“He has. We spent a full moon together last week, and that was great, but he said he’d tell the Coach about us and I don’t think that’s happened yet.
It’s something else that kinda messes with me.
” I shook my head, moving to tie the laces on my other skate.
“I get the reasoning, it’s just not a great feeling. ”
“Damn. I’m sorry, Dyl, that is a lot.”
“Don’t get me wrong, when it’s great it’s really fucking great. Like, I feel it down in my bones, I feel like we’re meant to be. But it does make me anxious that maybe I’m missing something. Maybe I’m wrong about us?”
“When I met Gabe,” Eli said, almost geared up, “I was just trying to find a pizza spot downtown when I bumped into him, and I remember feeling something different, but I didn’t feel that world-stopping sensation he described to me. And we’re still fated. I don’t have any doubt about that.”
I nodded before deciding to state the obvious. “You’re a human, though. He’s a shifter. He should have felt something.”
Eli didn’t have a counterargument to that.
I started to get anxious. Not only did I have some pre-game jitters building up, but I was now back to spiraling about my relationship with Miles.
He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d say something he didn’t mean, and he had told me he loved me, but…
it was the morning after a full moon. Emotions and sensations were at an all-time high.
I glanced where I thought Miles would be, but he had finished taping Emmy’s ankles and was now helping Gabe stretch.
Our assistant coach hovered around him like a fly looking for a spot to land on the kitchen table.
He had a folder in his hands, holding it so tight that I could see the edges of it crinkling.
They stood near the door where an extra pair of security guards stood.
Coach had become aware of the stalker threat and agreed to double the security budget so that we could all feel safe out on the rink.
Miles, as if sensing me, turned his head toward me for a quick second. He flashed a small grin and then returned to holding up Gabe’s arm and pushing it backward.
That didn’t feel like an I told Coach about us so we don’t have to worry kind of smile.
“What if fate fucked up?” I asked Eli.
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
I rubbed at my forehead. Stress and anxiety started making my chest feel like it was home to a colony of fire ants.
I’d walked into this locker room feeling like I was on top of the world and I was about to leave feeling crushed by it.
“Give it some time,” Eli said. “People are messy. Relationships aren’t always linear. Even the ones that are meant to be.”
I sighed. Had to push this out of my mind and get my head in the game. We were doing so well this season, I didn’t want to be the reason we didn’t get our chance at the Calder Cup. I thanked Eli for the quick and slightly reassuring chat and went back to getting ready.
It wasn’t long before I found myself thinking about it again and—to my credit—it was only because he’d come to check on me.
“I’m good,” I said, a little colder than I intended after he offered me some water. “Thanks,” I tagged on with a warm smile.
Miles could apparently see right through it. He took a seat next to me on the bench. “You sure you’re good?”
The room was getting rowdier as we got closer to game time. Chris was being teased by Derrick, one of the newer guys, while Soren scolded them both for entering his manifestation circle. The chirping was loud enough to conceal the conversation between Miles and me.
“I’m just feeling a little off, that’s all.” I wanted to brush it under the rug for right now. This wasn’t the time or the place to bring up my doubts, no matter how loud my anxious thoughts were trying to tell me it in fact was the perfect time and place.
“I can tell something’s off. Talk to me.” Miles leaned forward. His hand moved as if he was about to place it on my knee but stopped, setting it between us on the bench.
He couldn’t even reach out and touch me when I could use his comfort. That’s how fucked this fated mates situation was. I was setting myself up for a trainwreck. Just like my mom had done with my dad, ignoring all the red flags he threw on the field for the couple of green ones he waved in the air.
Holding his hand back was a small thing compared to all the powerful moments we’d already shared, but sometimes small things morphed to be elephant-sized in my head. And I’d already been feeling that dark gray storm cloud hovering over me. This just added the wind and the hail.
“I don’t think this is going to work anymore, Miles.” I said it as if I had to rip off a Band-Aid. Like I had to hold a burning hot iron rod so I could cauterize a wound. Seal it shut. Close up my heart.
He blinked a couple times, shocked, searching for the words.
I beat him to it. My anxiety was in control now, fed by my realization I’d misjudged all this.
I was better off just being a single fuckboy, messing around and not catching any feelings that had the potential to turn around and gut me like a fish.
“You haven’t told Coach, you still have a wall up in front of other people, and more than all of that, you’ve admitted you didn’t feel that fated mate pull like I did.
I can’t stop thinking about that. Wondering what would happen if we ended up together and five, ten years down the road we cross paths with someone who does give you that fated reaction?
Then I’m just left standing there, holding the pieces of years’ worth of a relationship broken instantly.
” I was getting riled up. The guys were beginning to gather around the whiteboard.
Coach Julian was there with a blue marker in hand, ready to give us his pre-game talk.
Fuck. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to do this.
I could have punched myself. I let myself be controlled by pure nerves. I didn’t like that. But I couldn’t take back what I said, either. I meant it. They were real fears and concerns for me.
Miles swallowed. I could see him trying to compose his thoughts. I really had blindsided him with this. A stab of guilt hit me in the gut. I didn’t want to hurt him. That was the absolute last fucking thing I wanted to do. But in the rush to protect myself, I think I did exactly that…
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I’m sorry,” I continued, unable to stop this train from barreling off the tracks.
“I think you deserve to find someone who gives you”—the same bubbly and paradise type of feeling you give me?
—“the fated pull. I don’t want to hold you back from that.
I also don’t want you to jeopardize your career or anything.
So, I’m sorry. But I think we’re better off apart than together. ”
Saying those words was the equivalent of swallowing a broken mirror.
Each syllable felt like a fresh shard of glass slicing my throat.
It’s not what I wanted. Not a single cell in my body wanted to say that to Miles.
I wanted to be with him for however long fate had decided.
He completed me in ways I couldn’t quite explain or pinpoint.
I just knew he made me happy. Which also gave him the power to destroy me.
I remember my mom trying to hide her crying from me. Her praying, begging, asking why. She’d been devastated.
I didn’t want that for me. I’d rather suffer through this hurt now than have it compounded years later.
“Dylan… I… You do feel like my mate. I felt it the night of the full moon. I don’t know exactly why it wasn’t the same before but—”
The coach blew a whistle. I shook my head. It was too late. He could be lying. Or he could be exaggerating his feelings. Whatever the case, I couldn’t let myself give in. As badly as I wanted to, I just couldn’t. If we started like this then we’d be destined for disaster.
“I’m sorry, Miles. Maybe we can stay friends.” Even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t a possibility. I cared too deeply, felt too passionately about him to ever have the label of “just friends.” If this were really a break, then it would need to be a clean one.
I reached for my helmet. I wanted my face concealed in case tears betrayed me, showing just how deeply this hurt me. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to do this to Miles or to myself. But I felt like I had to.
I got up onto my blades and went to the gathered team. Coach started drawing some plays on the whiteboard, talking about weaknesses and last-minute switch-ups and whatever the fuck else. I tuned him out. Couldn’t really hear him past the pounding of blood in my ears.
That was truly fucking terrible. I hated myself. Started to second-guess what I’d just said. Tried to stop the spiral from taking hold, from dragging my thoughts down to the depths of hell.
Couldn’t do it.
I only found focus once I was out on the ice. That night I played one of the most aggressive and reckless games of my entire career.
Our win felt like nothing. As inconsequential as an ant getting stepped on. The deep, dark void inside me—the one that Miles had fought back with his light and his presence—started to swell again.
It was time for me to close my eyes and dive in headfirst. Fuck it. I wasn’t meant for love, and I had to give up on ever finding it.
Fate could go fuck herself.