13. Dylan
DYLAN
The house is eerily quiet when I step inside the next morning. It’s so early that it’s barely light out. But I wanted to get back and grab my gym gear before anyone woke up.
There is still the faint hint of beer lingering in the air, but peeking into the kitchen, I’m surprised to find it sparkling clean. Not a single red Solo cup or spirit bottle in sight. The floors have been mopped and trash taken out like the party never happened.
If only it were that easy to clear the reminder of it from my memories.
The squeaking of a spring has my head snapping toward the living room as Ethan rises to his feet.
He’s wearing the same dark jeans and pale blue shirt that brings out the color in his eyes that he had on last night.
Except this morning, those eyes are dull, exhaustion clouding them of their usual light.
His hair is a mess, too. Well, messier than it usually is—sticking up in every direction as though he spent the entire night running his fingers through it.
If I had to guess, I’d say he still hasn’t been to bed. Did he stay up all night cleaning? Why ?
As I stand there, his gaze slowly drops over my body, sharp and thorough. My skin prickles beneath the intensity of it, but I have no idea what he’s searching for.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demands, finally lifting his gaze to my face. His voice is deeper than usual, threaded almost with…concern? No, that can’t be right. I must be misinterpreting it. It’s most likely from lack of sleep.
I blink at him, in absolutely no mood for whatever this is.
I need to burn off the lingering tension from last night before starting an entirely new fight this morning.
“I didn’t realize I had to run my every decision past you,” I snark, folding my arms across my chest as I stare back at him.
“You’re the captain of my team, not my life. ”
His nostrils flare, his jaw tightening. “You disappeared,” he says through gritted teeth. “No one knew where you were or how to contact you. Do you even realize how not okay that is?”
I rear back, shocked at being scolded like a child by someone only one year older.
“I’m not a kid, Ethan. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Dylan,” he snaps. Those gray-blue eyes blaze with a frigid fire, scalding me to the bone. “Anything could have happened to you. Do you have any idea how reckless that was? I was up all night wondering if—” He cuts himself off, scrubbing a hand down his face.
My brows hitch at his near admission. Still…
“I can take care of myself, thanks.”
“That’s not the point.” His words are a growl as he takes a step closer, face hardening. “Give me your number.”
It’s not a question. It’s a demand.
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head vehemently.
He blinks, visibly thrown. Guess he wasn’t expecting me to deny him. “Why the hell not?” He looks incredulous, like he can’t fathom why I wouldn’t want him to have my number. Well, if he’d endured what I had, he’d understand.
“Because I don’t want anyone on the team to have my number.”
His frustration flares, his long legs eating up the distance between us. “It wouldn’t be the team ,” he growls when he’s standing directly in front of me. “It would be me. Only me.”
Staring up into those thunderous eyes of his, I hold my ground. “It’s still a no.”
“Jesus Christ.” He throws his hands up. “You ran out of here like a bat out of hell! We couldn’t find you anywhere.”
I’d love to know who this we is.
“Yes,” I droll. “I’m sure the entire team was frantically searching for the unwanted player.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhale heavily. Sarcasm will get me nowhere.
The day hasn’t even begun and I already feel a headache coming on.
Wearily, I ask, “Why do you even care?”
“Because,” Ethan grinds, face hard with thunder. “You’re a Steelhawk.” There’s fire behind his declaration. “And that makes you my responsibility.”
I’m stunned into silence. A Steelhawk . He just said I’m one of them, and not in a condescending way.
In a you’re truly a part of the team way.
In a way I’ve never experienced before, and it’s…
so many things. Triumphant. Jarring. Like coming home but still unsure if anyone booby-trapped the house while you were away.
I swallow around the sudden lump that has formed in my throat. “Does this mean there’s no more ignoring me?” I do my best to mask the vulnerability, the hint of hope, but I sense he hears it anyway.
Ethan shakes his head, his gaze steady on mine. “No. Coach wouldn’t have put you in the first line if he didn’t think you deserved it.”
“Do you think I deserve it?”
He blows out a breath, head falling forward on his shoulders as though wishing I hadn’t asked that question. He stares at the ground beneath his feet for a long moment, and I sense he’s gathering his thoughts.
Eventually, he lifts his head, and I’m once again sucked into the vortex of his eyes, held captive as I await his response with bated breath. I don’t know why I care what he thinks. I shouldn’t care—and yet, for some unknown reason, I want Ethan’s approval.
“I think no one else on the team deserved it more.” Before I can let that go to my head, he tacks on, “But, I also think you’re going to have to prove that you can hold your own on the ice against an opponent.”
That gets a smirk out of me. “I don’t know why you all assume being taller and broader means it’ll be easier to corner me. Or why no one has realized yet that being lighter and smaller makes me quicker on my feet, so less likely to get pinned and easier to wriggle out when I do.”
His gaze drops to my lips, the corners lifting as amusement glitters in his eyes. It only lasts a moment, though, before it’s snuffed out.
“I heard about what happened. With Reed.”
I freeze. My stomach clenches, and the blood drains from my face.
Ethan notices. He always notices. His expression shifts—less stern, more cautious. “I…I’m sorry,” he says quietly. So much so that I’m convinced for a second that I heard him wrong.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, rubbing the back of his neck. “It should never have happened. I should’ve been there—should’ve stopped it before it started.”
An apology from Ethan Maddox is the last thing I expected to hear this morning, and I’m stunned into silence.
Shaking his head, he continues, “I pulled him aside after the roster was announced. Told him to keep his head on straight. I even had someone from the team keep an eye on him last night, but—” He shakes his head, expression tight with regret. “That should never have happened.”
No, it shouldn’t, but…
“Kyle’s actions are not your fault, nor your responsibility.”
The tension in his posture doesn’t ease. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the entire team on his back—and I guess, in a way, he is.
He snorts. “This entire team is my responsibility—every single one of you. I don’t care if you think you can handle yourself— I care that you’re safe. And last night…” He trails off, jaw tightening. “Last night, I failed.”
I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to tell him he’s overreacting, but another part of me—the part that’s still reeling from what happened—takes solace from his apology.
The moment grows between us, twisting and bending until it feels like a pin could pop it.
My sigh echoes like the thud of a stick against a drum.
“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll give you my number—but only you.
You don’t put me in a group chat. You don’t give it out to anyone else on the team.
If I get so much as a random message from an unknown number, I’m coming after you, and it won’t be pretty. ”
I swear one corner of his lips quirks, the tension between us fizzling out.
“Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up his index, middle, and ring fingers.
I roll my eyes. “Of course you were a Boy Scout. ”
Grinning, he even seems to stand straighter, as though, by apologizing, he shed the weight of his guilt.
Exhaling heavily, I rattle off my number, and he punches it into his phone, relief flickering briefly in his eyes.
“For the record,” I say, my voice quieter now. “I spent the night with a friend.”
Ethan nods, slipping his phone into his pocket a second after mine vibrates against my ass. I’m guessing he texted me, so I have his number too. “Good.”
“You should get some sleep,” I add when the moment grows fraught between us once more. “You look like shit.”
He scoffs, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Carter. Quite a way with words, you’ve got there.”
Despite everything, I smile. It’s small, fleeting, but it’s there. For the first time since the party, it feels like I can breathe.
Maybe I can rely on more than just Wren to help me survive this season.
Maybe, for the first time, I can trust my captain.
And if I’m lucky, perhaps by the end of the year, I’ll have the support of my team.