Page 178 of Stick It
“I’m so sorry, Menace.” The bed shifts as Jax moves, his hand landing lightly on my ankle, a silent tether.
“She seemed like she was doing okay when we arrived,” Ethan says softly.
I nod. “I thought so too. She seemed…more like her old self.” I shrug. “But that’s the thing with grief and depression. It can hit you at any time.” I gesture around the room. “Being here, in a hospital. It triggered her.”
“We should never have let her leave the room alone,” Finn says, voice pained.
I shake my head. “You didn’t know. Honestly, it probably had more to do with seeing me than…being here.”
“What do you mean?” There’s an edge to Ethan’s voice, like he’s ready to jump up and defend me.
I can’t quite meet any of their eyes when I admit aloud for the first time, “I’m a reminder of everything she lost. I’m a reminder of my dad.” I press my hand against my stomach to keep it steady. “Seeing me is like ripping the scab off a wound that never healed. I always set her off. That’s why I rarely go to see her now.” My voice is so small by the time I finish that I’m sure they have to strain to hear.
Griffin’s hand tightens over mine. “You shouldn’t have to carry that,” he mutters, voice fierce. Protective.
“She’s my mom.” My voice cracks. “I’ll do whatever she needs, even if what she needs is for me to stay away.”
“What about whatyouneed?” Jax asks, his voice rough. He leans in closer, those deep, bottomless eyes of his holding me hostage. “Who’s looking out for you?”
His question lingers heavily in the air. I’ve had Bear. He’s done everything he can—checking up on me, getting meenrolled in BSU, and offering me a spot on his team. But it’s not quite the same. I appreciate everything he’s done, but I can’t unload everything that’s bottled up inside me onto him. Not the way I could with my dad. Not the way I can…with each of them.
“We’re here now,” Ethan answers, voice low but certain. “You’re not alone anymore, Thorn.” He moves, his hand covering mine where it’s still tangled with Griffin’s. Finn shifts closer too, until his thigh is pressed firmly against mine. Jax leans against my feet, his presence a warm, solid weight.
“Never again,” he adds gruffly.
Finn nudges me with his shoulder, a small smile breaking through. “You’re stuck with us.”
Griffin presses his forehead to the back of my hand, breathing me in like he needs the reassurance too.
I laugh, watery and broken. But it’s real.
They don’t try to fix it. They don’t make promises they can’t keep. They just stay with me, anchoring me when the world feels like it’s falling apart all over again. And for the first time in a long while, I let myself lean into them. All of them.
I let them prop me up when all I want to do is crumble.
“What happened to Kyle?” I finally pluck up the courage to ask as we’re driving back to the house. I was medically discharged earlier with a bottle of pain pills that I’m sure Ethan is going to force down my throat if I refuse to take them, and the aggravating advice torest.Ugh, all I want is to get back on the ice and prepare for this week’s game. The thought of missing yetanothergame this season prickles. Yet, even as I shift in my seat, I feel the pull of bruised muscles, the tightness that still resides in my chest. None of it is as profound as when I woke up in the hospital two days ago, but it’s still there, a constant niggle whenI move or breathe too deeply. Hopefully, another couple of days will see it easing up enough for me to do some light skating.
Turning round from where he’s sitting in the front passenger seat, Finn flashes me a wicked grin. “He’s in police custody. Coach dealt with it all. Gave a statement to the police.”
“He did?” My eyebrows hit my hairline, but of course, I shouldn’t be surprised.
“They might want to talk to you too,” Ethan warns, his gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before he returns his focus to the road before us.
“But for now, they obviously have enough from Coach to arrest him.” Jax, sitting beside me in the back seat, gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“So he’s gone?” The relief that fills me is euphoric.
“He’s gone.” So caught up in the knowledge that I am finally fuckingfreeof Kyle Reed—that he is gone from the house, gone from the rink, gone from campus.Gone—I don’t even know which of the guys responds, but I feel Jax and Griffin press in on either side of me. I feel the goofy grin stretch across my skin. The weight lifts from my shoulders.
I feel…free.
“Plonk your ass on the sofa and I’ll grab snacks for us all,” Jax orders as soon as we make it home. Finn is already directing me toward the living room, stealing the seat beside me on the couch.
Snuggled beneath a blanket, with Finn fussing over me, the TV humming in the background, and the guys chatting amongst themselves, I let out a yawn, my eyelids suddenly feeling ridiculously heavy. How can a simple journey home make me this exhausted?
And yet, I know it’s not the journey. Or, not solely the journey. It’s knowing that I’m safe. That I’m surrounded by the four of them, cocooned in a fortress of warmth, loyalty, and love.
It’s knowing they came for me. That they didn’t hesitate. That when it mattered most, they were there—dragging me from the water, chasing off the darkness, fighting for me when I couldn’t fight for myself.
