Page 133 of Stick It
All this time, I’ve been thinking we have something special—not only between myself and Dylan but between the five of us. I’ve sat back and watched as she got closer to my friends, catching glimpses of a future where she isours. I’ve even accepted Griffin’s role in all of this.
And now I’m wondering if she’s done this before, with her old team. If it means nothing to her at all. IfImean nothing to her. It hurts. My entire life, the only thing I’ve ever had, the only thing I could call my own, was hockey.
Until Dylan.
I never had a stable home growing up, never a place where I felt like I truly belonged, but when I was around Dylan, I felt at peace in a way I never thought possible.Shewas my home—the one I’d longed for as a kid, convinced myself I didn’t need as an anguished teen, had found the beginnings of in Ethan and Finn.
The thought that we—thatI—didn’t mean the same to her…makes my stomach churn. Makes my blood feel like it’s burning under my skin. IlikedDylan. Hell, I was fucking falling for her. Based on how fucking wretched I feel right now, I’d go so far as to say I was nearly in fuckinglovewith her.
And now, after weeks of watching her, learning her, getting pulled deeper and deeper into whatever this thing is between us, I’m starting to wonder if any of it was real.
There’s a swoosh as the door swings open.
Dylan walks in, skates digging into the floor, helmet dangling from her loose grip. Her shoulders are rounded, her head low. But the second she spots the three of us sitting there, her spine snaps straight. There’s a sheen to her eyes that makes them sparkle beneath the bright overhead lights—a flash of raw, unfiltered emotion—before it vanishes behind a cold, unreadable mask.
Hergaze slowly sweeps over us before flicking around the otherwise empty room, looking for someone else. Looking for Finn.
“What are you still doing here?” she asks, returning her focus to us. There’s an edge to her voice, something wary, closed off. Like she’s suddenly realized she’s alone in an empty locker room with three guys who might not be on her side anymore.
Before I can say anything, Ethan steps forward, his expression hard. “We need to hear your side.”
Dylan scoffs, lifting her chin as she defiantly stares Ethan down. “You need to hear that I’m not a slut? That I didn’t make out with half the fucking NSU team? Or do you need to hear that I haven’t been playing you?”
Her gaze locks on to me, then Ethan, then Griffin. “We’ve been living in and out of each other’s pockets for two months. We live together. Train together. Play together. One of you is with me every moment I’m on campus. If a ten-second video is enough to make you think I’m someone else, then we never had a chance of being anything.”
Silence stretches tight. Her words dig under my skin, planting themselves there like barbed wire.
Then Griffin moves. One step. Another. Until he’s standing directly in front of her. With her skates on, it puts her at nearly the same height as him. Her throat bobs as she waits for him to speak, but he seems content to drink her in for a moment, his gaze roaming over her face as though committing it to memory. “I know exactly whose bed I’ve been sleeping in every night,” he murmurs, voice pitched low, but the words carry nonetheless. “Whose lips I’ve been kissing. Whose body has been wrapped around mine. Anyone who believes that amateur soft porn is an idiot undeserving of you.”
Her gaze softens with hope, but she doesn’t truly allow herself to relax until his arm curls around her, pulling heragainst him. She buries her face in his chest, and a shudder rolls through her as she relaxes into his hold.
After placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head, he shifts, moving to stand behind her. One arm snakes around her waist, the other banding around the front of her chest as he pulls her flush against him.
They both stare at Ethan and I. Dylan with a shuddered, albeit slightly nervous expression, and Griffin with hard, unyielding eyes that promise pain and retribution. It’s clear whose side he’s on. Without a single moment of hesitation, he has chosen Dylan.
I envy him. I wish I could so blindingly move to her side. Wish I didn’t have these questions and doubts. And yet, seeing how resolutely he stands with her makes me wonder if he’s right. What did that video on the jumbotron really tell us? That Dylan has kissed a few guys? It would make each of us a hypocrite to say we hadn’t gotten around with other girls before her. Some of us more than others, but there have been puck bunnies a plenty since we started at BSU.
There’s bound to be some reasonable explanation. Hell, even if it’s just that she hooked up with a few guys after a win or on a night out. That doesn’t have to diminish what we have. Her past shouldn’t be held against her.
My foot moves forward.
My weight shifts.
Dylan’s keen gaze zeros in on the movement.
And then the door bangs open, and we all turn as Kyle strolls in, Finn at his side.
“The gang’s all here,” Kyle sneers, his gaze landing on Dylan. “Even the whore.”
Griffin is on him in seconds, shoving him back against the wall so hard Kyle grunts in pain. However, he still finds it in him to smirk—cocky and sure.
Mygaze catches on Dylan and Finn. The two of them are locked in a silent battle, seemingly oblivious to everything going on around them as they just…stare at one another. Even with his jaw ticking, Finn looks broken.
As for Dylan? She just looks resigned.
“Say that again,” Griffin’s menacing growl draws my attention back to his confrontation with Kyle. A vein pulses along his temple, his hold on Reed’s shirt unrelenting. “I fucking dare you.” A vehement snarl rumbles from his chest, his lip curling. “Please, do,” he taunts, voice low and deadly. “I’m looking foranyexcuse to rip you limb from limb.”
Kyle remains smug, quiet, satisfaction glinting in his eyes because he knows he’s getting under Griffin’s skin.
