Page 48 of Stick It
Shaking my head fervently, I step back farther. My strap slides over my shoulder, the bag knocking against my hip before falling to my feet, and I realize my back is literally against the wall.
“Leave me alone, Lucas.”
I force steel into my voice, but he takes no heed as he reaches out, twirling a strand of damp hair that has escaped the bun I scraped it into between his fingers. “You’ve missed me. Admit it.”
I slap his hand away, glaring. “About as much as I’d miss a UTI.”
His smirk twists into something darker, his eyes narrowing. This is therealLucas. The one who gets off on messing with a grieving girl. Of stringing her along. Toying with her. Fucking her up so badly that she no longer knows up from down.
“You’re still so much fun to mess with.”
“I’m done playing your twisted games,” I tell him. “You got what you wanted, so leave me the hell alone.”
He pouts. An outsider looking in would think it was the cutest expression on his stereotypically handsome face, but I see it for the manipulation tactic it is.
Leaning in, I recoil as his warm, repugnant breath sticks to my skin. “Did I, though? I might have gotten you off my team, but it looks like you still haven’t figured out you aren’t wanted here.” His cold gaze flicks over my face. “Maybe I’ll keep playing with you until you’re nothing but a shattered mess. Until the thought of stepping onto the ice makes you sick. Until just seeing a hockey stick sends you spiraling, crying in some dark corner where you belong.”
My stomach churns, bile rising up my throat. I’m on the verge of shoving past him and hoping he trips over his skates, when a voice cuts through the tension.
“Everything okay here?”
I glance past Lucas’s shoulder to see Jax standing a few feet away. His expression is deceptively calm, but his dark eyes are locked on Lucas, sharp and unyielding.
Lucas steps back, but those hard, hateful eyes stay pinned on mine for a moment longer before his entire demeanor shifts. His body relaxes, his lips hooking up in his characteristic smirk. “Just catching up with my girl, here,” he says easily.
“I’m not your girl,” I snap, at the end of my tether.
“Mm, we’ll see.” Lucas finally backs off, turning his attention to Jax and flashing him a practiced, charismatic grin.
Jax doesn’t return it. He doesn’t say a word, just stares Lucas down until he chuckles, taking several steps backward down the tunnel.
“All right, I’m going. Got me some celebrating to do tonight.” He glances at me one last time, smirking. “I’ll see you around, babe.”
It’s not a throwaway comment. It’s a promise. One that chills me to the core.
I don’t breathe until he’s gone.
“You okay?” Jax asks when we’re alone, his voice low as he steps closer, moving into the spot Lucas just vacated. Except his close proximity doesn’t send me spiraling—at least, not in the same way. It doesn’t feel like he’s closing in around me, trapping me, kicking me until I’m two feet tall. However, the hint of cedarwood and something minty-fresh as Jax takes up my entire field of vision makes me lightheaded. Dizzy. The menacing darkness from a moment ago lifts, and instead, I feel safely cocooned in Jax’s presence.
Which…makes zero sense considering I know next to nothing about this guy.
Not trusting myself to speak, my head jerks in a quick nod.
He studies me for a moment, his brow furrowing. “You used to date that clown?”
He sounds so put out at the notion that, somehow, magically, it actually makes me laugh. It’s a sharp, high-pitched sound, but it’s far better than the fear I was drowning in a moment ago.
“Yeah, not my best decision ever.”
He grunts an agreement before silence descends over the hallway like the first snowfall of winter—muted yet peaceful.
“Well, I should probably go?—”
“You played well tonight.”
We both speak at the same time, catching ourselves before chuckling.
“The whole team played well,” I tell him.
