Page 190 of Stick It
Like a scene from a movie, team members rise one by one. “Yup, you’ve definitely spent time on mine,” Palmer says.
“And mine,” Chen tacks on.
And on and on it goes until basically every guy at the table confesses to having been with her.
And she had the nerve to call me a slut!
When silence reigns, heavy and vindicated, Ethan’s voice cuts through the air like steel. “I think I speak for the entire team when I say, we’re done with you.”
The rest of the guys immediately voice their agreement. No hesitation. No looks of regret. “You’re not welcome hereanymore,” Ethan finishes, voice final. “Not at this table. Not at our games. Not with us.”
Selena’s mouth opens, but no words come. The silence presses in, thicker than any shout, until finally she spins on her heel and storms out, her heels clacking like gunshots.
When she’s gone, the room exhales. Laughter and chatter slowly resume around us, the tension dissipating like smoke.
But me? I can’t move.
I sit frozen, Finn’s arm returning to its place around my shoulders, Ethan’s sharp gaze steady across the table, Jax’s solid bulk beside me, Griffin’s smirk a promise. The rest of the team scattered around, returning to their conversations like what happened was just another day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Completely unaware of how much their support means to me.
My throat is dry, and I struggle to swallow around the lump lodged there. As if sensing how choked up I’m feeling, Jax reaches over to squeeze my hand, and when I glance up at him, there’s a knowing glint in his eye, a soft curl to his lips.
For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m fighting alone.
For the first time, I belong.
57
DYLAN
The sky hangslow and gray over the campus, heavy with the promise of snow. The cold cuts through my jeans and jacket like a blade, making me wish I’d worn something heavier. I swear the weather changed overnight, emphasizing that we are on the cusp of winter. I wrap my scarf tighter, my breath forming puffs of white in the frigid November air as Wren and I cut across the quad.
“Last night was hell,” Wren grumbles, her boots crunching over the brittle grass. “Some idiot puked outside the bar entrance, I got groped twice by drunk freshmen, and to top it off, a hockey player tried to tip me with a Stanley Cup keychain like it was fucking gold.”
I snort. “Ah, the dream of college life.”
“Shut up.” She nudges my shoulder with her own. “We can’t all live out our real-life fantasies of having a harem of hot hockey guys.”
“It’s not all unicorns and rainbows over here.” I filled her in on everything that happened with Kyle after the game as soon as I was released from the hospital. The guys had already given her the cliff notes since she’d inevitably heard about the hit I took onthe ice, but we had alongphone call once I was released, where I told her everything. Followed by a girls’ night once I was fit enough to return to campus. That was a week ago.
She links her arm through mine, squeezing as she gives me an understanding smile. “Ithasn’tbeen, but it will be from here on out. For the rest of the year, all you’re going to have to worry about is hockey and sex.”
I choke on nothing. Leave it to Wren to make me smile after everything that’s happened.
“Pretty sure I have to worry about passing exams, too.”
She waves her hand dismissively. “Small potatoes. Focus on the important stuff.”
“Hockey and sex?”
She flashes me a white, toothy grin. “Hockey and sex.”
We both laugh, the sound curling into the cold air between us. It’s nice to walk campus like this again—without the guys hovering at my elbows. They’re still protective, still close. One of them usually drops by between classes, we eat breakfast and lunch together on campus most days, and they text constantly. But now it’s because theywantto, not because they feelobligatedto.
When I mentioned it to Jax, he rolled his eyes and told me no one was making them do anything. That they’d always wanted to spend time with me, and they wouldn’t have been so protective if they didn’t care—if they didn’t want to be around me.
Still, the distinction feels important to me.
I’m not just someone they are keeping safe. I’m someone theywant. Someone they arechoosing.
