CHAPTER 27
Team building exercise, a one-on-one scrimmage with Hayes, everything that screams bad.
Everything that screams close proximity, something I’m not sure I’d be able to handle.
The truth is I don’t trust myself when I’m alone with Hayes, and what happened last week at that lake is a true example of how he’s got me beneath his palm.
The memory of that night lingers like a shadow I can’t shake.
The way his voice softened, the way his gaze burned into mine as if he could see straight through me—it’s been haunting me ever since.
And now, Coach Rivera’s brilliant idea of forcing us into this team-building exercise feels like a cruel joke.
I throw my hockey bag into the trunk of my car and slam it shut.
The school’s parking lot is calm, deserted except for the faint hum of the overhead lights and the distant rustle of trees in the cool evening breeze.
I exhale sharply, leaning against the side of the car, my chest still tight from the scrimmage with Hayes.
The rink was one thing—controlled chaos, where the adrenaline could mask the frustration. But out here, in the stillness, it all comes rushing back. The way he looked at me, the tension in his voice, the heat of his presence on the ice—it’s too much, too overwhelming.
I run a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts.
Fuck’s sake, Dakota. Get your shit together. He’s just a boy. Someone who’s not worth all this headache.
But the lie tastes bitter, and I know better. It means too much, and that’s the problem.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulls me from my thoughts, and I glance up to see Hayes striding across the lot, his own hockey bag slung over his shoulder. His dark eyes catch mine for a brief moment before he looks away, his expression unreadable.
Great. Just what I need.
“Don’t worry,” he says as he passes, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll make sure to let Coach know you tried your best.”
I scoff, pushing off the car and crossing my arms. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”
Hayes stops, turning to face me, his jaw tight. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Miller.”
“Yeah, well, it’s easy when I’m not the one dragging the team down,” I snap back, the words leaving my mouth before I can think them through.
His eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say something cutting, something that will push this confrontation over the edge. But instead, he just stares at me, the weight of his gaze heavy enough to make my stomach twist.
“Is that what you really think?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost… hurt.
The question catches me off guard, and I hesitate, unsure how to respond. The anger between us has always been easy, a shield against the mess of emotions I can’t quite untangle. But this? This feels different, and I don’t know what to do with it.
“I don’t know what I think,” I admit, my voice low. “But I know I can’t keep doing this with you.”
Hayes exhales sharply, shaking his head as he shifts his bag on his shoulder. “Neither can I,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.
He turns and starts walking again, leaving me standing there, the silence of the parking lot pressing in around me.
“We leave tomorrow around 10 a.m. and I expect you to be ready by the time I arrive at your house,” Hayes calls, not once stopping to glance at me.
“You don’t even know where I live.”
Hayes stops by his car, pulling open the backseat door as he turns to look at me, a small smirk on his stupid face. “10 a.m. Miller, or I’m leaving your ass behind.” He throws his hockey bag into the backseat, shuts the door, and then climbs onto the driver’s seat.
I stand there, my fists clenched at my sides as I glare at his retreating figure. “Good luck with that,” I mutter under my breath, though I know damn well I’ll be ready at 10 a.m. because Coach Rivera would have my head if I wasn’t.
Hayes rolls down the window, his stupid smirk still plastered on his face as he revs the engine. “Don’t be late,” he calls, his tone smug, like he knows he’s already gotten under my skin.
I scoff, crossing my arms. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Right. See you tomorrow, princess.”
Before I can come up with a snarky reply, he drives off, the sound of his car disappearing into the night. I stand there for a moment, my chest tight with frustration, before turning and heading back to my own car.
The entire drive home, I can’t stop replaying the way he looked at me, the way his voice carried that infuriating mix of arrogance and amusement. It’s like he knows exactly how to push every single one of my buttons—and he does it just to see how I’ll react.
By the time I pull into my driveway, my head is spinning with everything I should’ve said, could’ve said, but didn’t. And as I climb out of the car and head inside, one thought lingers in my mind, refusing to be silenced:
Tomorrow is going to be hell.
Dinner is supposed to be quiet, but when you’re part of this household, it’s not.
Mom and Mark talk about something that has to do with Mark’s job, while Harper texts on her phone instead of focusing on her food.
All through this week, that’s exactly what she’s been doing—texting nonstop and I wonder who she’s texting with.
I push the vegetables around on my plate, not really hungry, my thoughts still stuck on the scrimmage earlier and the way Hayes looked at me in the parking lot. His words replay in my head—low, almost resigned: “Neither can I.”
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” my mom says, snapping me out of my thoughts. Her tone is neutral, but I can sense the hesitation in her voice, like she’s worried she’ll say something that’ll offend me.
“Just tired,” I reply, not meeting her eyes.
“You should eat,” Mark chimes in, a small smile on his face. “You’ve got a big game coming up, right? Need to keep your energy up.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, taking a halfhearted bite of the roast chicken. It tastes fine, but I barely notice. My mind is too preoccupied.
“Everything okay with the team?” my mom asks, her gaze sharp now, like she can sense there’s more going on than I’m letting on.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say quickly, too quickly.
She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press, for once. Instead, she picks up her glass of water, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’d tell us if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
“If something is wrong, I can handle it myself. I’m not a child, Mom,” I say, my tone clipped and sharp, the words come out harsher than I intend.
“Of course,” Mom mutters, flashing me a small smile but I can see the hurt in her eyes.
I exhale heavily, feeling the judgmental look of Mark and his daughter on me. “I’m sorry, Mom. I just mean to tell you that I’m fine and the team is great. And if there’s something wrong, I can handle it. You don’t have to keep worrying about me.”
Mom’s smile falters for a moment, and I can see the conflict in her eyes—like she wants to believe me but doesn’t quite trust that I’m telling the truth.
It’s always like this with us, a constant push and pull of unspoken words and unresolved tension.
I know she’s trying to right all the wrong she did in the past, but it takes time, and we’re getting there slowly.
“Alright,” she says softly, her voice laced with doubt. “I just want to make sure you’re not overloading yourself.”
“I’m not,” I reply quickly, forcing a reassuring tone. “I’ve got it under control.”
Mark clears his throat. “You’ve got a lot riding on this season, Dakota. Colleges are watching. Scouts. You can’t afford to let anything—or anyone—get in the way.”
I nod stiffly, biting back the urge to roll my eyes.
I glance at Mom, who looks like she’s about to say something, but she hesitates, her gaze flicking to me and then away.
“Well,” she says finally, forcing a brighter tone.
“I’m glad to hear things are going well with the team.
I just can’t wait to watch you play next week.
You know it’s your first game in years,” Mom says, with barely contained excitement.
I flash her a small smile, “Yeah.”
“You’re not nervous, are you?” Mark asks, his heavy gaze fixed on me.
“No, I’m not.”
He grins. “Glad to hear that.”
“Hmm-mm,” I mutter, turning my focus to the plate of food in front of me.
The rest of the meal passes by quickly, and by the time I get to my room, I feel like I can breathe again.
I bring out my laptop and place it on my desk. Clicking the FaceTime icon on my laptop, I click on Seth’s name as I watch it ring.
The familiar ringing tone fills the quiet room, and I lean back in my chair, exhaling heavily as I wait for Seth to pick up. I run my fingers through Shepard’s fur, listening to him purr softly beneath my touch. The sound is soothing, a grounding contrast to the storm brewing in my head.
After a few seconds, his face pops up on the screen, his expression immediately brightening when he sees me.
“Hey, Coty,” Seth says, flashing a grin. “What’s up? You look like you just survived a war.”
“Really? We’re going with Coty again tonight?” I ask, smiling despite myself.
“Yeah. Go with it, amigo,” Seth says, leaning back on a chair as he smiles at me. I imagine he’s in his living room, probably playing a soccer game. “You good?”
“I don’t know, man,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “It’s been a day.”
Seth raises an eyebrow, leaning closer to the screen. “Let me guess—Griffin?”
I scoff, nibbling at my bottom lip as I glance around my room just to stall.
“Dakota?”
“What?”
“You’re hiding something from me and you better start to spill it out. These past few days you’ve been avoiding my calls and texts. What’s going on, man?”
I glance down at Shepard, his amber eyes half-closed as he stretches lazily across my lap. “It’s just… school stuff. Hockey.”
“Hockey,” Seth repeats, dragging out the word like he doesn’t believe me. “Or a certain someone on the hockey team?”
I wince, hating how easily he sees through me. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting,” he says, grinning. “I’m just saying, if this is about Hayes—”
“It’s not,” I cut in, though my voice falters enough to make it clear that it is. “It’s just… everything feels off lately.”
Seth hums thoughtfully. “Off how?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. Like, one minute I’m fine, and the next… he’s in my head again. And I hate that he gets to me like this.”
“Maybe because you haven’t let go of whatever it is between you two,” Seth says simply. “You keep saying you hate him, but hate doesn’t look like this, Dakota.”
I groan, rubbing a hand over my face. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”
Seth laughs, his eyes glinting with something I’m too tired to point out.
“Coach is making us work together—team bonding or whatever. And now I’m stuck with him tomorrow. He’s showing up at my house at 10 a.m., acting like he’s doing me a favor.”
Seth whistles, his grin widening. “Team bonding with Griffin? That sounds… intense.”
“That’s one word for it,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “I swear, he lives to make my life miserable. He doesn’t even try to hide it.”
Seth’s smile fades slightly, and his tone softens. “Are you okay, though? Like, really okay? I know he gets under your skin, but—”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, cutting him off. “It’s just frustrating, you know? Being around him all the time, the way he looks at me like—” I stop myself, realizing I’ve said too much.
“Like what?” Seth presses, his gaze sharp now.
I hesitate, my fingers tapping against the desk. “Like he knows something I don’t,” I admit quietly. “Like he’s always one step ahead.”
Seth studies me for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “Maybe he’s just trying to figure you out. Or maybe… he already has.”
I shake my head, scoffing. “Don’t start with that, Seth.”
“I’m just saying,” he says with a shrug. “You and Hayes have this… thing. It’s obvious, even if you won’t admit it.”
“There’s no ‘thing,’” I say firmly, though my chest tightens at the words. “He’s just a pain in my ass. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” Seth says, clearly unconvinced. “Well, good luck tomorrow. If you survive the day without murdering him, I’ll be impressed.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say dryly, but a small smile tugs at my lips despite myself.
“Anytime,” Seth replies, his grin returning. “Just call me if you need to vent—or if you need help burying a body.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Noted.”
As we end the call, the weight in my chest feels a little lighter. But even as I close the laptop and get ready for bed, Seth’s words linger in my mind, and I hate that a small part of me wonders if he’s right.