30. Ethan
ETHAN
I wake with a start. The hard wood of the doorframe digs into my spine, the stiffness in my neck a sharp reminder that I haven’t slept in a bed for too many nights in a row. But how could I sleep peacefully knowing I’ve left Dylan unprotected?
I groan as I roll my shoulders, stretching out the aches and pains that are becoming a familiar part of my morning routine. I’m scrubbing a hand over my face when the door creaks open. Dylan steps out, her eyes widening when she sees me slumped there.
“Ethan?” She glances around in search of some explanation. “Uh, what are you doing out here?”
I shift, getting to my feet and wiping the last remnants of sleep from my eyes.
“I was waiting for Kyle to get home last night,” I mutter by way of explanation.
She doesn’t need to know that I’ve slept outside her door like a puppy begging for scraps since the night of her attack, even when I know Kyle is tucked up in his own bed down the hall. “Must’ve dozed off.”
Crossing her arms, she scowls at me in displeasure. “You shouldn’t be sleeping out here. You’ve got a game on Friday; you need your rest. ”
“It was one night, Thorn. Won’t kill me.” I look away, swiping a hand through my mussed-up hair so she won’t see the lie on my face.
Her lips flatten, and she holds my gaze for a moment.
It affords me the opportunity to analyze the bruising on her face.
While it’s healing, it still looks painful, and it’s an effort not to wince.
I wish I could take away her pain, the reminder she must experience every time she looks in the mirror.
Before I can do something stupid like apologize— again— something that only serves to rile her up every time I do, she shakes her head before moving past me and heading down the stairs.
Breathing out a sigh, I head into the bathroom to shower off the stiff ache in my muscles before getting dressed for the day.
Guilt gnaws on my bones the entire time. It’s become a constant companion, a shadow that follows me everywhere. I should have seen it coming. I should have known what Reed, Fletcher, and Monroe were doing wasn’t just regular locker room shit.
I should have stopped it before it got this far.
Making my way downstairs, I hear voices in the kitchen. Dylan’s and?—
Shit.
I speed up, skipping the last few steps altogether.
“You should pack up and leave BSU while you still can,” I hear Kyle say before I make my presence known.
I step into the room, gaze narrowed on Reed as I place myself between him and Dylan. “Walk away, Kyle.”
He smirks, that arrogant one he’s always worn that says you can’t touch me .
Unlike me, Kyle comes from money. It bought him his spot at BSU, although thankfully not his position on the team.
Coach would never sell out like that. However, it did afford him the best hockey coaches and trainers money can buy.
Enough to make him a solid hockey player.
He’s not exceptional. Not like Finn, Jax, Griffin, or Dylan.
He doesn’t have the raw talent or drive that they do—like we do.
He’s used to money buying him whatever he wants, and for the first time in his life, he’s discovering that money can’t buy everything.
It can’t buy Coach, and it won’t buy him his way back onto the starting lineup. Not at BSU, anyway.
“Relax, Cap. We’re just having a friendly chat.”
“I said walk away. Now, Reed.”
For a second, he holds my gaze, like he’s debating pushing his luck. Then, with a scoff, he grabs his coffee and saunters out, leaving me standing there, vibrating with barely restrained fury.
I’m wound so tight that when someone shoves my shoulder, I whirl on them, ready to put them in their place. That is, until I’m met with all five-foot-eight of lean, brown-haired fierceness.
“What the hell was that?” Dylan demands with a wicked glower. “I had that perfectly under control before you came barging in here all caveman-like.”
“I was not?—”
“I don’t need you stepping in every time he opens his goddamn mouth.”
“I’m not letting him get in your head.”
She lets out a bitter laugh. “He’s been in my head for weeks, Ethan. It’s not something you can fix by playing bodyguard.”
Crowding her, I growl, “I can make sure he doesn’t get another chance to hurt you.”
“I can take care of myself,” she insists, infuriating me further.
“Yeah? And look how that turned out.” The second the words leave my mouth, I know they’re the wrong thing to say. Dylan goes still, her jaw tightening as hurt flashes in her eyes before she locks it down.
“Screw you,” she mutters before stalking out of the kitchen .
“Shit.” I slap my hand against the countertop, shoulders hunched as I bow my head. I shouldn’t have said that. I let my own fears, my own insecurities, get the better of me. It probably doesn’t help that I haven’t had a decent sleep for three consecutive nights.
Raking a hand through my hair, I check the time before breathing out hard. Great . I don’t even have time to apologize right now because we need to leave for class. I’ll just have to find time later to pull her aside and make up for my idiocy.
Several minutes after I told them to arrive, Fletcher and Monroe walk into the meeting room. “Where is everyone?” Monroe muses. Like clueless chickens, they both look around the empty room.
I make my presence known. Not giving them time to process, I shove Fletcher against the wall, forearm pressing hard against his throat. He lets out a grunt, eyes flashing with shock before it turns to anger. Monroe takes a step forward, but I cut him a look that stops him cold.
“Don’t even think about it.”
The air in the room shifts, the weight of my authority settling over them like a threat. Pinning each of them with my stare, I keep my voice even, but there’s no mistaking the edge in it, as I demand, “Where were you the night Dylan was attacked?”
Fletcher’s brow furrows. “What?”
I press harder against his windpipe. “Don’t play dumb with me,” I hiss, spittle hitting his cheek. “Where the hell were you?” Glancing Monroe’s way, I add, “Both of you.”
“Dude,” Monroe protests. “We don’t even know what night you’re talking about. ”
I’m two fucking seconds away from punching one of them in the fucking face.
Shoving my arm into Fletcher’s throat until he chokes, I step back, worried I will do exactly that and cause an even greater mess.
In-fighting is not something I tolerate.
It’s not something Coach will tolerate, and there’s already enough fucking hostility without adding to it.
Fletcher’s eyes flick to the side, the two of them sharing a fleeting look. Then Monroe shrugs. “We were at The Stanley.”
My jaw tics. It’s the answer I expected.
The party line Reed has been touting. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss me off.
Not when I highly suspect Dylan is right that these two were involved in her attack.
Nothing else makes sense and they are the type of pathetic pissants to be pissed at a girl joining the team and immediately being better than them.
“You’ve been hassling Dylan all season,” I spit. “On and off the ice.”
Fletcher scoffs, rubbing at his throat. “Since when was hazing against the rules?”
“You know damn fucking well what you’re doing goes beyond hazing,” I snap, glaring at each of them. “Not to mention that it went against my orders to leave her be.”
“She can’t just come in here and take our spots!” Monroe stupidly protests.
“She can and has,” I retort, giving him a less-than-impressed once-over. “And last I checked, you could barely maintain your position on the third line, never mind riding the first.” I glance between them, knowingly. “Or are we specifically talking about Kyle’s spot?”
The crack of Monroe’s jaw snapping shut is audible. Strangely, neither of them has anything to say about that. Their silence says everything I need to know.
“It is not our place to question Coach’s decision.
He wants Dylan on the team; it’s our job to include her and ensure we have the best team possible so we can go all the way this year.
From what I’ve seen so far of Dylan’s talent and skill, Coach made the right call.
If Kyle has a problem with that, he can bring it to me or to Coach.
He should not be getting you two idiots to carry out his dirty work, and he sure as shit should not be targeting Dylan.
” I shake my head, sneering at the two of them.
“The fact that you’d go after a defenseless woman and attack her in a dark parking lot is disgusting.
You should be locked up in a jail cell.”
“We didn’t—” Fletcher splutters. Panic widens his eyes. Good. He deserves to feel even a minuscule amount of the fear Dylan must have felt that night. If it were up to me, they’d each find out exactly what it feels like to be targeted like that, alone and outnumbered.
“Don’t finish that fucking sentence!” I bellow, jabbing a finger his way.
“Don’t finish that fucking sentence unless you want to lose some teeth today.
” I spare Monroe a glance, ensuring he knows he’s included in my threat.
“If I find out you were involved in her attack in any way or that you’ve continued to harass her, you’ll both be done. ”
Monroe glares. “You can’t?—”
“Try me,” I snap. “You so much as look at her funny, and you won’t set foot on the ice for the rest of the season.”
Fletcher sneers. “You can’t make that call.”
My hands fist at my sides. “You think Coach won’t back me on this? Go ahead. Test it. See what happens.”
Neither of them speaks. They know I mean every word.
They share an uneasy look, sparing me a final glance before they move toward the door.
I step into their path. My expression is one of pure menace, the threat in my tone very fucking real.
“I just want to clarify. When I say you’ll be done, I don’t just mean on the ice.
I mean at this university.” I step closer.
“On this fucking planet. You won’t breathe another breath of fucking air if I find out you’ve laid a single fucking finger on that girl.
Disobey my order again and see what fucking happens. ”
Wide-eyed, they race out of the room like the hounds of hell are on their asses. Alone, I blow out a harsh breath.
The sound of slow clapping has me whirling toward the door as Griffin steps into view. “That was beautiful,” he taunts with a triumphant smirk. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Fuck off,” I grumble, half-heartedly. “You’ve seen me go after guys on the ice.”
“Sure,” Griffin shrugs. “But I don’t see skates on your feet right now, Mr. Diplomatic.”
Twisting my head, I crack my neck in a bid to relieve some of the tension. “Yeah, well, some people heed action better than words.”
And I have no fucking problem going as far as I need to when it comes to protecting Dylan.