Page 8 of Make Me Yours
Without Lilah’s presence, I feel off.
And I fucking hate it.
I take a shot, missing the net by a mile.
“Jesus,” River mutters as he skates past. “What the hell was that?”
I grit my teeth, skating harder, trying to push through the frustration making my hands clumsy and my focus scattered.
By the time we hit the locker room between periods, I can feel the guys watching me, silent questions brimming in their eyes.
Oliver tosses me a towel. “Are you playing like shit for the fun of it or what?”
“Fuck off,” I grumble, dragging a hand through my sweat-dampened hair.
He snorts. “I’m just saying, man. Maybe pretend like you give a damn about the game.”
How can I respond when they’re right?
I need to get my head out of my ass. As soon as the game isover, I can find Lilah and make sure everything’s okay. Until then, I need to focus.
I don’t play any better during the third period. Thank fuck the guys are there to pick up the slack. The final buzzer sounds, and the crowd roars. My teammates throw their hands in the air as sticks tap against the ice in victory.
Even though it’s another win under our belt, there’s no pleasure to be found in it. I’d usually be caught up in the rush of the post-game high with them. But tonight, as I skate off the ice, there’s only one thing dominating my mind.
Lilah.
I scan the stands one last time, searching for her face in the crowd.
She promised she’d be here.
The empty seat hits harder than I want to admit.
Where the hell is she?
With that jackass boyfriend of hers?
Even the thought of Devon Peterson is enough to make my jaw clench.
She deserves so much better.
Then again, I’m not sure there’s a guy out there who’s good enough for Lilah Monroe.
She’s like the sun rising over the horizon—impossible to ignore and even harder to forget.
When Lilah’s near, she’s all I see.
All I feel.
All I want.
It’s been that way since our freshman year of college, and nothing has changed. If anything, my feelings for her have only deepened, growing stronger with every year, every moment, every look.
The thought of her marrying that smug bastard makes my stomach twist.
Not just because I’d lose her.
But because I know deep in my bones that she doesn’t belong with him.
