Page 169 of Stick It
Lucas.
He’s standing there in the stands like he owns the place. Smirking.
That same smug, calculating look I’ve seen too many times before.
A flare of something sharp twists in my gut. I nudge Jax beside me and lift my chin toward the stands.
He follows my gaze. So do Finn and Griffin.
All three of them go still. Jax’s jaw clenches. Griffin’s hands curl into fists. Finn mutters a quiet, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
No one says it aloud, but we’re all thinking the same thing.
What the hell is he doing here?
And did he have something to do with what just happened to Dylan?
The whistle blares, ripping through the moment like a blade.
Jax claps a hand on my shoulder. “We need to focus.”
I force myself to turn away from Lucas, my spine rigid. Facing the rest of the team, I shove the fury down deep and push all questions regarding what he might be doing here to the back of my mind as I bark, “Huddle. Now.”
The team closes in, expectant eyes on me. I meet them all, one by one, my gaze hard, determined. “You saw what they did to one of ours,” I start. Murmurs go up, tones of disgust and anger. “I don’t know if we can win this, but we can at least give them hell.”
My words are followed by a chorus of “Hell yeah!”
“Let’s show them that if you mess with one Steelhawk…”
“You mess with us all,” Griffin finishes, a lethal glint in his eyes and a cruel curl to his lips.
I hold out my hand in the center of the huddle. “For Dylan.”
Jax’s palm slaps against mine. Then Finn. Griffin. The rest of the team.
“For Dylan.”
51
DYLAN
I don’t remember goingdown. Just the crack of my skull against the helmet and the white-hot pain that exploded in my shoulder and up my side.
And distant voices yelling my name.
Now I’m in the medical room—a side hallway off the main rink, all white walls and disinfectant—perched on an exam table while a trainer gently palpates my shoulder.
“Good news is, there’s nothing broken,” he states, voice calm but firm.
“And the bad news?” I grimace as I try to roll my shoulder.
“You’re bruised, maybe some muscle strain, but your range of motion is decent, and your reflexes are intact. You got lucky.”
Lucky. Sure.
I nod through the dull throb that pulses from my shoulder to my spine. Every muscle aches, and I’m still pissed I had to miss the end of the game. And even while the trainer drones on about anti-inflammatories, hot pads, and soaking, all I can think about is the game. What happened after I left?
“Thorn,” Ethan growls, throwing the door open and crossing the room in three strides. Finn, Griffin, and Jax areright behind him, all still in partial gear, skates off but pads and jerseys askew. The panic on their faces is palpable.
