Page 144 of Stick It
A slow, suffocating wave of shame crashes over the room. Shoulders stiffen. A few heads dip. The air is thick with tension.
Something hot pricks at the back of my throat.
Coach exhales sharply, nostrils flaring as he drags a hand through his thinning hair. When he speaks again, the rage is still there, but underneath it is something heavier.
Disappointment.
He lets the silence stretch, lets the weight of his words settle like concrete while he scans the team one last time before shaking his head. “I expected better—from all of you.”
The weight of his words, his disapproval, sits there, festering, bubbling, lingering like a bruise. When the tension in the room is pulled so taut it’s about to snap, he straightens.
“Iwillfind out who was behind this,” he declares in a quiet, dangerous promise. “And when I do, you will be stripped of your jersey.You will no longer be a Steelhawk.”
If the silence was deafening before, it’s nothing like the pressure I feel against my eardrums after that statement.
A warm hand squeezes my thigh, grounding me, as Coach moves on to analyze Friday’s game. I don’t hear a single word he says as I glance over, meeting Griffin’s unreadable gaze. However, there is something steady there, something solid.
For the first time since that horrible video began playing on the jumbotron, I don’t feel so alone, so isolated. Things don’t feel so hopeless.
I might have lost three out of four of the guys.
But I still have Griffin on my side.
And this time, I have a coach who’s got my back. I’ve got Bear.
I kept my head down during practice, ignoring the feel of eyes on me. From the team, but most prominently from the guys. Them and Kyle.Fucking Kyle. I never met his gaze purely so I wouldn’t see the smugness residing there, and he couldn’t see the devastation I hid in mine. I focused on my drills, on being the best player out there, and on being part of a team even if I was back to being an outsider. No one spoke to me, but I equally didn’t get any hostile vibes from anyone. Well, other than Kyle and his goons, but I’m so used to it, that it rolls off me like water.
By the time the end of the day comes around, I’m readyto fall into bed. Gathering my things after my last class of the day, I sling my bag over my shoulder and exit the classroom.
“Watch it!” someone sneers as something hard connects with my shoulder, and I fall back against the door. My head whips up, meeting Kyle’s incensed gaze. He’s glaring down at me, lip curled back. It’s a far cry from the smug expression I expected him to be sporting after his stunt on Friday. “Bench Bunny,” he hisses. It immediately gets my hackles up, but I don’t let him see that.
Unfortunately, instead of moving on, he lingers, moving closer. Students file past us, no one paying us any attention as they head out of the building, ready to get home after a long day on campus.
“I don’t know what you did to wrap them so tightly around your finger,” he snarls, deliberately dropping his gaze to linger on my breasts and between my legs. “Your pussy must be made of gold or some shit.” His gaze snaps back to mine, hardening into something cold and cruel. “Either way, Iwillprove that you don’t belong here.” Another curl of his lips. “Women don’t belong in men’s hockey. Especially not bench bunny sluts.”
Misogynistic prick.
He disappears back into the crowd like he was never here. I watch him go before blowing out the breath I was holding. I have no idea what has him so pissed now. Was it Coach’s speech this morning? Except that doesn’t make sense. Whatever has his panties in a bunch, I sense it’s no longer purely about getting his spot back. It’s about getting me off the team. About proving I don’t belong.
One thing’s for sure, I’m going to have to watch my back.
A pang goes through my chest, knowing I’ll no longer have the guys as my bodyguards. Sure, I might have disliked having them constantly watching me—Ethan always knowing mywhereabouts—but there was a sense of safety in it too. Now, I feel exposed.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I cast a glance over my shoulder, doing a sweep of the hallway, but other than the odd straggler, I’m alone.
Fixing my bag on my shoulder, I quicken my steps as I head out of the building, suddenly all too keen to get out of here myself. Except, the idea of going home stalls me on the steps outside.
I want to go back to that house about as much as I wanted to step foot in that meeting this morning. As much as I want to remain here after Kyle’s delightful little threat. What Ireallywant is to go to Wren’s. I want to cuddle up beneath a blanket on her sofa and listen to her bitch the guys out and yell at the characters on the TV like somehow she can make them make different decisions. I want to pretend that I didn’t lose the only people, other than Wren and Griffin, who have come to mean something to me. People who have been steadily plugging the deep, gut-wrenching hole left inside me after my father’s death.
I want to pretend like I don’t already miss playing video games with Jax, Finn’s stealth kisses, or Ethan’s overprotectiveness—even if it did piss me off at the time, at least it showed that he cared and it had been so,solong since I’d had someone trulyworryabout me. In their own ways, they made me feel like I belonged. They included me, looked out for me, ensured I was fed and safe. They…made me happy.
And now I feel truly fucking miserable without them.
“You look like you just found out we lost the season to NSU.”
Lifting my head at the sound of his voice, my lips quirk as Griffin strides up the steps toward me.
“Over my dead body will that be happening.”
