Page 43 of Stick With Me
I laugh, but it’s forced. “Jace and Rebecca are apparently dating.”
“Oh.” His expression stays fixed in confusion, and when he doesn’t say more, my nerves spike. I start pacing the small space, unable to stand still, my mind racing as I try to figure out what he’s thinking. I’m usually pretty good at reading him, but right now, I can’t make sense of his expression. Is he upset that Jace is dating his ex-whatever?
His eyes track my movements, but he still doesn’t say anything. I pull out my phone and show him the post I shared with Ada earlier this morning. For a second, his face is blank, and then amusement spreads across his features.
“Well,” he says, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “that’s the stupidest caption I’ve ever seen.”
Laughter breaks the tension, easing the knot in my stomach. “Right? I thought so, too.”
“Does it bother you?” His voice is softer now.
“I don’t know. It’s just a bruise to my pride, I guess. Does that even make sense?” I pause, searching his face, but I’m still coming up blank. “What about you?”
He nods. “It makes sense. Does Knolls dating Rebecca bother me? Nah. Like I told you in Florida, it wasn’t serious with her. She was never my girlfriend or anything like that.”
“Have you ever had one?” The question comes out before I can stop it.
“A girlfriend?”
I nod wordlessly.
His brows scrunch together in thought. “I guess not. Unless you count high school.”
“Oh, okay. That’s good,” I say before realizing the implication of my words. “Not good that you’ve never been in a relationship… good it doesn’t bother you about Rebecca.”Welcome back, awkward Hannah.
He chuckles, but his expression quickly turns serious again. “I don’t like it because it’s hurt you.” His tone is relaxed, though it feels like he’s putting in effort to keep it that way.
His simple statement makes a tight knot form in my throat. I can’t remember the last time someone supported me so completely, someone who genuinely cared about the things that affect me, outside of Natalie and now Ada.
Not knowing how to respond, I close the distance between us and take the hug he offered earlier, sweat and all. He cups the back of my head, pulling me closer.
“Thank you for being such a great friend,” I murmur.
He tenses ever so slightly, something I wouldn’t have noticed if my body wasn’t pressed so tightly to his. “Of course.” He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “I’m guessing you won’t be coming to the game tonight?”
“I’m going to sit this one out.”
“Probably a good idea.” A mischievous grin pulls at his lips.
EIGHTEEN
A great friend.I really need to stop fixating on those three words. I want to be a great friend… but I also want to be so much more than that to her.Patience.
As soon as my skates hit the ice, the roar of the home crowd washes over me, a wave of sound that hits like a sudden rush to the head. The bright arena lights blind me before my eyes adjust. Nothing compares to this moment—it's one of the few times my mind goes completely silent.
Except tonight, because we’re playing the Dallas Spurs. Which brings me to the other six words I’ve been repeating in my head since meeting with Hannah this afternoon:I will not kick Knolls’ ass. Not because I don’t want to, but because beating him on the ice will be far more satisfying. I’m not a fighter, preferring to play a clean game… most of the time. But no one gets under my skin quite like Knolls does, even more so with how he’s been stirring things up with Hannah since their breakup.
It’s only been a couple of weeks since All-Star Weekend, but no matter how much time passes, it always feels too soon to see him.
My teammates surround me in a huddle, Fox’s arm slung casually over my shoulder. “Keep it simple, boys. Pucks in deep, bodies on net,” he says, addressing Helm, our other winger, and the two defensemen starting the game. We break apart and drift toward center ice to take our positions. I skate to the face-off circle, where Knolls waits across from me.
“You see my new girl, Logan?” Knolls chirps, his smug grin practically begging for a reaction.
I bite my tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction. The look in Hannah’s eyes when she told me about his post is burned into my memory. And now, watching him gloat about it only fuels the fire simmering under my skin.
I flex my fingers around my stick, trying to refocus on the game as we wait for the ref to step into the circle for the puck drop.
“When she’s riding my dick, she tells me about how you couldn’t even get it up for her,” he continues.
