CHAPTER 28
“Thank you, Mrs. Turner. These taste really good,” I hear a familiar voice from the kitchen, followed by my mother’s giggles.
He’s here.
That voice—it’s unmistakable. My stomach twists as I slowly stand, the sound of my mother’s laughter echoing down the hallway. She doesn’t giggle like that unless she’s genuinely charmed, and there’s only one person who could manage to do that while simultaneously driving me insane.
Hayes Griffin.
I walk out of my room, my steps measured, as I approach the kitchen.
Sure enough, there he is, sitting casually at the kitchen table dressed in black jeans, a black shirt, matched with a dark blue denim jacket.
Even dressed in something as simple as that, this asshole still looks impossibly attractive.
I can smell his cologne from where I’m standing, taking up the space of the living room and the kitchen.
Hayes leans back in the chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his other hand holding a glass of milk.
His head tilts slightly as he listens to my mom, that signature smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
It’s infuriating, how at ease he looks—like he owns the place, like he belongs here.
I stand in the kitchen doorway, taking in this arrogant but beautiful boy, as I fight the urge to drag him out of my house. He’s flashing that disarming smile of his, the one that makes people forget he’s a walking disaster of arrogance and irritation.
“Thank you, Mrs. Turner,” he says, lifting a plate with what looks like one of Mom’s homemade brownies. “You’re seriously the best. These are amazing.”
Mom laughs again, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Oh, Hayes, you’re too kind. But thank you. It’s nice to know someone appreciates my baking.”
I step into the kitchen, my jaw tightening.
His gaze flicks toward me almost immediately, like he could sense my presence before I even entered the room.
His smirk deepens when our eyes meet, and I swear I see a flicker of amusement there, like he’s been waiting for this moment.
For a brief moment, our eyes are locked together, and slowly the smirk on his face fades, replaced by something else—something deeper, more intense.
The air between us shifts, thickening with unspoken tension that neither of us dared to acknowledge. It isn't anger, not entirely, but it isn't anything soft either. It is charged, electric, like the kind of silence that follows a lightning strike.
Slowly, Hayes shifts his gaze only to run it down my body. My breath catches, my chest tightening as I try to look away, but I can’t. Not when he’s looking at me like that.
The air between us feels suffocating, heavy with an intensity I can’t ignore. Hayes’ gaze lingers, dark and deliberate, like he’s peeling back layers I didn’t even realize I was wearing. It’s not just a glance—it’s a challenge, a test, as if he’s daring me to flinch, to look away first.
I can’t. I don’t.
My breath stutters, my pulse racing as the corner of his mouth twitches, the faintest hint of a smirk threatening to surface as he looks away. “Dakota, honey. Hayes here is just telling me how you boys will be heading out together to do hockey stuff.”
“Is that so?” I ask, shifting my gaze to Hayes who’s still wearing that insufferable grin of his.
“Yeah,” Hayes says, leaning back in his chair like he owns the place. “Coach thought it’d be good for us to spend some quality time together. You know, team bonding and all that.”
His grin widens as he glances at me, and I can see the amusement dancing in his eyes, like he’s enjoying every second of this.
I force a tight smile, my teeth clenched. “Of course.”
Mom, oblivious to the tension simmering between us, claps her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad you boys are working together. Hockey is all about teamwork, after all.”
“Yeah, teamwork,” I echo, my gaze locked on Hayes. “We’re really good at that.”
Hayes raises an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. “We’re getting there,” he says, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. “Baby steps, right, Dakota?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Right.”
Mom beams at both of us like this is the best news she’s heard all day. “Well, I’m proud of you two. This is exactly what your father would have wanted, Dakota.”
Hayes smiles, standing up. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Turner, for your hospitality. I truly appreciate it.”
“That’s okay, Hayes. You’re free to drop by anytime you want.”
I scoff loudly, unable to hold it in as I glare at Hayes who’s already staring at me.
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Turner,” Hayes says, flashing my mom one of his irresistible smiles, as he turns to look at me. “Ready to go, Miller?”
I let out a slow breath, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “Yeah,” I mutter, walking toward the door without waiting for him to follow.
As we step outside, the cool air hits me like a slap, but it does little to cool the fire burning in my chest. Hayes falls into step beside me, the silence between us heavy with unspoken tension.
“Should I be scared you’re stalking me now, huh, Griffin?”
He laughs softly, unlocking his own car with a quick click of his keys. “Don’t flatter yourself, Miller. You’re not that interesting.”
“Right,” I scoff, slipping my hands into my pants pockets. “Care to tell me how you know where I live?”
“Nope,” Hayes says, opening the driver’s door as he climbs into his car, slamming the door shut.
He turns to look at me, igniting the engine of his car. “You gonna get in or do I have to beg you first?” He asks, raising his perfectly carved eyebrows.
“So we’re using your car?”
“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. “Actually, I do. I don’t exactly trust you behind the wheel, Griffin.”
He smirks, leaning casually back in his seat. “Relax, Dakota. I’m an excellent driver. Besides, you’re the one who’s supposed to be impressing Coach, remember? This is all about teamwork.”
I let out an annoyed sigh, glancing at his car like it’s some kind of trap. “Fine,” I mutter, walking around to the passenger side and yanking the door open. “But if you drive like an idiot, I’m going to break your fucking limbs.”
Hayes laughs as I slide into the seat, slamming the door behind me. “Noted. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it slow and steady for you, princess.”
I shoot him a glare as he shifts the car into gear and pulls out of the lot. The silence between us is thick and uncomfortable, the tension from earlier still lingering. I stare out the window, determined not to let him get under my skin, but it’s impossible to ignore his presence beside me.
“So,” he says after a moment, his tone casual but with an edge of amusement. “Are you going to give me the silent treatment the whole way, or do I have to start singing to fill the void?”
I glance at him, unimpressed. “You sing, and I’m gonna fucking kill you.”
He grins, his eyes briefly flicking to me before returning to the road. “Suit yourself. But I’ve been told I have a killer voice.”
“Yeah, by who? Your fancy ass toys?” I shoot back, unable to resist.
Hayes chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Real funny, Miller.”
I roll my eyes, one arm on the open windowsill as I lean back in the seat. “Just drive.”
He doesn’t say anything else, but I can feel his smirk, even without looking at him. The tension between us simmers in the confined space, and I hate how much he seems to enjoy it. This whole “team bonding” thing is already a disaster, and we haven’t even started.
“Where exactly are we going?”
“The city,” Hayes replies, his reply short and straight to the point as he stares at the road ahead.
“Right,” I mutter, looking out the window.
For the next few minutes, the car ride is filled with nothing but the low hum of the engine and the faint sound of tires against the road.
I stare out the window, watching the streetlights blur past, refusing to let my gaze drift toward Hayes.
The silence should be a relief, but instead, it feels charged, heavy with everything we’re not saying.
Hayes keeps one hand on the wheel, the other casually draped over the gear shift, his posture so relaxed it borders on irritating. I stare out the window, watching the scenery blur by, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens every time he shifts in his seat.
The city is still a good thirty minutes away, but the silence between us feels heavier than the distance.
I want to ask where exactly in the city we are going, but the words catch in my throat.
It’s not just the destination—it’s him. It’s the way his stupid hair looks too perfect, messy in a way that shouldn’t work but does.
It’s the way the sunlight filters through the windshield and catches on the sharp lines of his jaw.
It’s the way he doesn’t seem to care, while my mind is a mess of overthinking and unresolved tension.
“You’re quiet,” Hayes says suddenly, breaking the silence. He doesn’t look at me, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I glance at him, my voice coming out sharper than I mean for it to. “Just wondering where you’re taking me.”
He smirks, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in that way that always gets under my skin. “What, you don’t trust me?”
“Not really,” I admit, tapping my fingers on the windowsill. “History hasn’t exactly given me a reason to.”
His smirk fades, and for a second, I think I’ve struck a nerve. But then he chuckles, low and soft. “Fair enough. Guess I’ve earned that.”
The admission throws me off, and I turn to look at him, surprised. “That’s it? No smartass comeback?”
“Not this time,” he says, glancing at me briefly before turning back to the road. “I’m trying to be nice, Miller. Don’t make me regret it.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Being nice doesn’t suit you.”
“Maybe,” he says with a shrug. “But I figured I’d try something new. Don’t get used to it.”
The silence returns, but it’s lighter now, less suffocating. I sneak another glance at him, the way his fingers tap absently on the wheel, the way his brow furrows slightly as he navigates a turn. He’s too damn distracting. And it pisses me off how much I notice, how much I care.
“Why are we even doing this?” I ask, my voice softer this time. “The whole bonding thing. We trying to act like we can tolerate each other, when obviously we can’t.”
He hesitates, and for a moment, I think he’s going to brush me off.
But then he sighs, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly.
“Maybe we just need to try. I’m pretty sure you heard what the coach said.
We fuck this up, and he’s kicking both of us out of the team.
And I don’t want that,” he runs a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs backward, and for a brief moment, I’m lost in how beautiful he looks.
“Guess we just have to see if we could get through one day without wanting to kill each other.”
I blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. “Alright.”
He glances at me again, his smirk returning, but there’s something softer behind it. “Don’t read too much into it, Miller. It’s just a ride.”
“Sure,” I say, leaning back in my seat. But the words feel hollow, and I can’t shake the feeling that this is more than just a ride.
As the car speeds down the highway, the tension between us starts to shift.
It’s still there, but it feels different—like something fragile and unspoken is hanging in the air, waiting for the right moment to break through.
And for the first time, I wonder if maybe—just maybe—this doesn’t have to be so complicated.