28. Dylan
DYLAN
Tonight’s the first time in forever that I haven’t had a practice or gotten on the ice.
The amount of extra time I have is insane.
I’m all caught up on my assignments, I’ve read ahead in most of my classes, and there’s literally nothing left for me to do except stare at my ceiling in utter boredom.
It’s stupid, but I’m reluctant to leave my room.
I should’ve asked Wren about doing something tonight or hanging out at her place, but I’m exhausted after my first full day back on campus.
A knock on my door makes me jolt.
“Dylan?” Jax’s voice filters through the wood. “Ethan and I made dinner.”
I hesitate, staring at the door like it might suddenly dissolve. I don’t have anything else to do, and I do need to eat. Better to go downstairs when I know there’s no risk of getting caught alone with Kyle. Besides, the thought of sitting in my room alone all night feels suffocating.
“Yeah, okay,” I say, pulling open the door.
Jax smiles, a small quirk of his lips, and steps aside to let me through. I feel his presence at my back, like a protective shield against the world, as I make my way down the hall .
Downstairs, the scent of garlic and something rich and savory fills the air. Ethan is at the stove, dishing out pasta onto plates, his broad shoulders tense with focus.
“You guys actually cooked?” I ask, a little skeptical. I just assumed they grabbed most of their meals on campus—like I do. Although, the food we ate the night before the roster was announced was home-cooked, so I probably shouldn’t be surprised.
Jax scoffs, nudging me lightly with his elbow toward the table while he grabs drinks for us. “Ethan cooked. I supervised.”
Ethan huffs, dumping a pot into the sink. “You sat on the counter and scrolled through your phone the whole time.”
Jax shrugs, looking over his shoulder at me as he retrieves glasses from the cupboard. He winks, and that simple action is like a live wire aimed directly at my core. “Like I said—supervised.”
Despite my laugh, I stand behind one of the chairs at the table, my hands clenched around the wood as I glance around the open-plan living-kitchen area.
“He’s not here,” Ethan says, noticing my not-so-subtle search when he carries two plates over. “He and Finn went out earlier.”
“Oh.” It’s stupid how my stomach drops.
Ethan’s gaze meets mine before he gestures to the chair.
“Sit.” There’s a hint of an order there, but it’s hidden beneath gentle concern.
I do as he says, but any appetite I had has fled, knowing Finn voluntarily went out with Kyle.
With the way he responded to Kyle at lunch today, I thought perhaps…
But that was stupid of me. Kyle is his friend.
Jax must see something on my face as he and Ethan share a glance. “We told Finn to take him out for a while so you wouldn’t have to hide away in your room all night. He…wasn’t as excited about it as you might think. ”
My eyebrows hit my hairline, my gaze bouncing between the two men who have taken it upon themselves to be my protectors. Warmth spreads through my chest. “Thank you,” I murmur quietly.
The two of them join me at the table, Ethan taking the seat beside me and Jax sitting opposite.
A strange sense of normalcy settles over us as we dig into our food.
Other than my dinners with Bear and the occasional one with Wren, I usually eat alone.
Jax and Ethan banter back and forth, joking and teasing one another.
It reminds me of family dinners. Ones I haven’t allowed myself to look at too closely ever since my dad died.
At first, we keep the conversation light—hockey, classes, practice, but as our plates empty and the warmth of the meal settles in our bellies, Ethan asks, “So, how did you first get into hockey?”
I shrug, feeling his stare on me but not able to meet his gaze. “My dad used to play. He basically raised me on the ice. Pretty sure I learned to skate before I could walk.”
Jax hums, setting his fork down. He’s the only one who knows my dad is dead. Who knows what a sensitive subject this is for me. “He played college or pro?”
I hesitate, reaching for my water. “College.” It’s not a lie, it’s just not the full truth either. I shift in my seat. “I think, even if he hadn’t played, I still would have ended up on the ice. It was just…always home, you know?”
Ethan nods like he gets it. “You still close with him?”
The question lodges in my chest. I swallow, forcing my voice to stay even. “He died last year.”
“Shit, Thorn,” Ethan mutters, regret deepening his voice. “Sorry.”
“What about your mom?” Jax questions, and I sense he’s been wanting to ask that since the night I fell apart in his arms.
“My mom and dad…their love was like a fairy tale.” There’s a heaviness to my words, the weight of grief tugging them down. “Losing him broke something in her.” I shake my head. “I’ve barely seen her since… She’s more of a ghost than a parent anymore.”
Neither of them says anything for a moment, but I don’t feel pity from them. Just…understanding.
Jax leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Yeah. I know what that’s like.”
I glance at him, waiting.
He shrugs. “I didn’t really have parents growing up.
They were in and out, and when they were around, they were more into each other’s drama than they were into raising me.
I lived with my aunt for a while. My uncle after that.
Spent most of my childhood bouncing between them until I got old enough to look after myself.
” He flicks a crumb off his plate. “Never really felt like I belonged anywhere.”
“What age were you when you started looking after yourself?” I ask, curiously, my heart aching at the thought of a young Jax getting himself dressed, making himself breakfast, going to school in wrinkled, day-old clothes.
“Ten.”
I frown. That’s even younger than I’d expected. I don’t know what to say to that, but I don’t think he expects anything.
Ethan exhales, shaking his head. “Jesus. This got depressing fast.”
Jax smirks. “Don’t act like you’re exempt from the shitty family stories.”
Ethan rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “Fine. My dad owns a mechanic shop. Been working there since I was a kid, cleaning up oil spills and handing him tools. He made me earn every penny I needed for hockey gear, lessons, and camp.”
I tilt my head. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Ethan’s jaw tenses. “It wouldn’t have been.
If he didn’t spend every second reminding me I’d never amount to anything more than he did.
Laughing at me for thinking I could ever do better.
Ever be anything more than a lowly mechanic—the guy with grease under his nails.
” His fingers drum against the table, giving away his agitation.
“It never mattered how good I was, how well I played. He’s just waiting for me to fail and come crawling back. ”
Jax lets out a low whistle. “Holidays must be a real treat.”
Ethan snorts. “Which is why I typically spend them here.”
That thick silence settles in again. It’s strange. I don’t think I’ve ever sat with them like this—no teasing, no sharp edges. Just them . Just me .
Ethan stretches back in his chair, and I don’t miss the way his T-shirt rides up as he lifts his arms above his head, the flash of white skin and taut muscle before it falls back down. “Jesus, we sound like a bad therapy group.”
I chuckle. “Same time next week?”
Jax huffs a laugh while Ethan flashes me that boy-next-door grin of his. Pushing back his chair, he grabs my plate along with his. “I’ll tidy this up. You and Jax go pick a movie?”
Dinner and a movie? This is beginning to look a little bit like a date. Admittedly, a weird-ass one where there are two guys. “Uh, sure.”
We’re interrupted by a knock at the front door. Jax glares in that direction, not looking pleased at the interruption. “Who the hell is that?” he grumbles, setting his plate back on the table before stalking toward the hall.
Moving to help Ethan while Jax talks to whoever is at the door, I’ve just added Jax’s plate to the pile of dirty dishes when voices and the stomping of feet have me spinning.
“By all means, invite yourself inside,” Jax grouses, each word dripping with sarcasm as Griffin marches into the kitchen. His sharp gaze darts around the room before locking on me .
Ethan bristles immediately. “What are you doing here?”
“Why aren’t you at practice?” I ask, knowing this is the time when he’s typically on the ice.
“Like I could focus on anything else when I know you’re under the same roof as him .” He jerks his chin toward the stairs.
Ethan makes an exasperated noise. “We’re perfectly capable?—”
“Is he here?” Griffin demands. His hands clench at his sides as though pitching for a fight.
Jax sighs, the sound born from frustration more than anything else. “No. Finn took him out.”
Griffin nods, seeming somewhat satisfied by that at least.
A standoff ensues.
“Well, thanks for stopping by.” Jax attempts to usher Griffin out of the house.
“I’m not leaving.” Folding his arms over his chest, Griffin becomes the immovable man as he glowers at Ethan and Jax, just daring them to try and kick him out.
I sigh, stepping forward. The movement catches Griffin’s attention, his glower softening, even though his lips are still pressed in a flat line. “We were going to watch a movie, if you want to join us?”
It’s not really in my nature to be the peacekeeper, but I’m equally aware that each of these guys is fighting over protecting me. Plus, there’s that strange pull…
Ethan and Jax exchange a look, but they both remain silent, letting me take the lead.
Griffin stares at me a moment longer, the room seeming to hold its collective breath, before he gestures toward the living room. “Lead the way.”