Page 141 of Stick It
She even said herself that the photos were Photoshopped.
Is that part of the bullying Coach referred to? Did Lucas pull that shit on her last year? My teeth grind at that notion, even though I have no right to feel anger on her behalf, to feel protective of her. Not after how majorly I’m beginning to realize I fucked up last night.
How majorlywefucked up.
Certainly if Kyle was wrong about this, it reasons that he was wrong about her sleeping with her old coach. Which means that all of it, every moment that played out on the jumbotron last night, was fake.
Except for the ones between each of us.
That was the only real thing displayed on the jumbotron.
And we fucked it all up.
I made the biggest mistake of my life by not believing her. By doubting her.
God, I’m a fucking idiot.
I exchange a look with Finn, then Jax, each of them wearing mirroring guilt-ridden, panicked expressions.
“I agree,” I tell Coach, facing him with a newfound determination. “Dylan is a Steelhawk through and through, and Steelhawks take care of their own.”
Coach nods. From the corner of my eye, Jax straightens, a similar look of resolve settling on his face. Even Finn sits upright in his chair.
Even if Dylan doesn’t want our help. Even if she despises us now. Sheisa Steelhawk, and Kyle has just proven that he isn’t.
I’m sitting on the sofa that afternoon, still reeling from our chat with Coach earlier. All of us are. Jax has chosen to distract himself with video games while Finn took himselfupstairs after Coach left, looking like he’d just been informed he’d never play hockey again. He came down half an hour ago, grabbing the roll of trash bags under the sink before storming back upstairs without looking our way. God only knows what he’s doing up there. His room is a bit of a pigsty, so hopefully he’s on a rampage clean. I’ve been on at him to keep it organized for years now, but he never does listen. If it takes fucking up with Dylan to get him to do it, then who am I to say anything?
We all have our own coping mechanisms for dealing with the fact that we fucked up. Our own ways of passing the time until Dylan comes home. So we can talk. Fix things. Can we fix things? Fuck, I hope so. Once again, I’ve let her down. Let her down as her captain. As her friend. As a guy who is wholly consumed by her and wants everything she’s willing to give.
I let petty emotions, jealousy and insecurity, get the better of me instead of trusting the woman who has been slowly opening up to me—to us.Fuck, I’m an idiot.
“Why do you think Griffin was so quick to defend Dylan?” Jax asks, his mind clearly stuck on the same loop as mine, even as he steers a Formula One racing car around a track on the screen. “Do you think he knew, about what happened at her old school?”
Sighing, I scrub my hands down my face, running them down the cotton fabric of my sweats while I lean back on the sofa and turn over his question. “No clue. Maybe. Or maybe he’s just a better guy than we are.”
Jax scoffs, then seems to think about it and his lips purse. “Things are bad when Griffin is the one doing the right thing andweare fucking up.”
“At least she had someone last night.” That’s all I can think about. At least she wasn’t alone. Griffin took care of her. He got her out of that locker room, and I have no doubt he will havemade sure she made it to Wren’s okay—assuming he left her side at all.
The red car Jax is driving makes it over the finish line and he tosses his controller on the table with a weary sigh. “Assuming we manage to fix this, what then?” Leaning back, he brings his feet up to rest on the edge of the table as he meets my gaze. “We’ve never actually talked about it. Each of us has just pursued her, knowing the others are too.”
I shrug, having even less of an answer for that than his previous question.
“All I know is I want her. She makes me strive to be better. A better player, a better captain. A better man.”
Jax nods knowingly. “Same. She gets me out of my head. She makes me laugh. When she’s around I’m…lighter.”
“You are,” I agree. “You’ve spent less time holed up in your room or absorbed in video games, and you’ve come out with the team more than normal. You don’t hide away the same way you used to. It finally feels like you’re an active member of the team off the ice. It’s good.”
He smirks. “Well, I hate to break it to you, man, but she does nothing for your control issues. You’ve turned into a rabid bear since Dylan showed up. I bet you spent all night staring at that tracker app, making sure she was at Wren’s.”
Guilty as charged.
He barks a laugh, reading the answer all over my face.
“Griffin’s not going to let her go,” he says, growing serious again.
“Would you?” I arch a brow at him, already knowing his answer. It’s the same as mine.
