Page 56 of Stick It
“You’re such an idiot,” I mumble to myself.
I swore off teammates, and yet here I’ve gone and kissed not one buttwoSteelhawks players. Is self-sabotage one of the ten stages of grief, because that is clearly what I’m attempting to do.
As the reminder of how good Jax’s lips felt on mine fades, my gut twists, remembering what came after—Kyle holding my dad’s mug, smirking like the smug asshole he is before he dropped it.
Iknowhe dropped it on purpose. No way was that a simpleaccident, no matter what he’ll proclaim. A heavy sadness descends, and a sigh escapes me as I drag myself upright, resting my back against the headboard and scrubbing my hands down my face. There’s a team meeting this morning, and I need to get ready.
When I turn to grab my phone off the nightstand, I pause. The mug is sitting there—the one Kyle broke last night.
Except…it’s been pieced back together. Cracks run across the surface like a fractured mosaic, and some pieces are so tiny they’re missing altogether. It’s not perfect—not even close—but it’swhole.
Jax.
A lump wedges in my throat. It has to be him. He’s the only one who would’ve done this. Sitting up straighter, my hand shakes as I reach for the mug. The cracks are rough under my fingers, but they’re solid, glued carefully with the kind of patience I can’t even fathom. Jax didn’t have to do this. Most people would have swept the pieces into the trash. But he did, because he understood how much the mug meant to me. Because helistened.
God, this must have taken him all night to painstakingly glue back together. Tears sting my eyes as I cradle it gently in my hands, unable to fully process that this is real life and that I’m not still dreaming.
Swallowing hard, I get out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the carpet as I cross the room to where I have all of my other mugs set out on a shelf. The morning light spills over each one, carefully chosen, illuminating the colors as I slide the glued one cautiously into its place. My hand lingers there for a moment before I step back, doing a quick survey of the rest of the room.
My bedroom is small but cozy. A twin bed shoved into the corner with plain white bedding on it. A desk cluttered with notebooks, a few pens, and an empty water bottle is pushedagainst the wall beneath the window, and my favorite hoodie hangs off the back of my desk chair. It’s not much, but it’s mine. Or it was—until Kyle stepped into it without me knowing.
I shiver, my face scrunching as my gaze flickers toward the door. The idea of him being in here, touching my things, makes my skin crawl. It suddenly crosses my mind that he could have doneanythingwhen he was in here.
With a shiver skating down my spine, I rip my bedsheets off the bed and dump them in a pile by the door to wash. Next, I go through my bookshelves, ensuring he hasn’t messed with anything—or worse,plantedsomething. It would be easy enough to hide a recording device among my belongings.
I rip my room apart before putting it back together again, not finding anything. Still, I feel like there is a layer of slime covering my skin. One a hot shower won’t wash off. I frown at the door, an ache in my chest as I wonder if I’ll ever feel safe in this room again.
Kyle broke something fundamental by violating my privacy.
No way am I letting him steal anything else.
After the team meeting this morning, I’m going to buy a lock for my door.
The soles of my Converse slap against the stairs as I descend while simultaneously scraping my hair back into a ponytail. I’ve been at BSU for an entire month already. It’s the end of September now, and fall is starting to seep in—leaves changing from green to burnt orange, a crisp freshness entering the air. However, today is gorgeous. The sun is shining, and I’ve decided to brave it in shorts and a tank. I’m pretty sure it’s the last chance I’ll get to wear them before autumn fully arrives, and the snow will soon follow.
Hitting the bottom of the stairs, I tie a hoodie around my waist as I beeline for the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before our team meeting. As soon as I round the corner, I bump nose to chest with Ethan. “Jesus, what are you doing lurking around corners?” I grumble, rubbing at my nose. Is his chest made of granite or something? I mean, I know, like most hockey players, Ethan is ninety percent muscle, butdamn, that hurt.
“Sorry. I heard you coming?—”
“And you thought you’d break my nose before breakfast?”
He pins me with adon’t be dramaticstare, but clearly Ethan has no idea just how freaking solid his body is.
“No,” he drolls. “I wanted to check in with you. Jax told me about last night.”
Miraculously, the pain in my nose is forgotten as I straighten, searching Ethan’s gaze as if that will be enough to tell me exactly what he knowsabout last night.
“Did he now?” I hedge.
He nods. “I’ll have another word with Kyle.”
I scoff, shaking my head.Seriously?“Yeah, ’cause that approach is clearly working so well.”
Ethan’s jaw tightens. “What would you have me do?” he demands, folding his arms across his chest and staring me down.
Exhaling harshly, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Kyle can come at me on the ice all he wants, but what he did last night crossed a hard line.” Meeting Ethan’s unwavering stare, I ask bluntly, “Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it makes me to have to live under the same roof asfourguys? Men who are essentially strangers to me? Men who hate me because I dared to break societal norms?” I shake my head. “And now I can’t even relax in my own room. Kyle stole that solitude from me by going in there without my permission or knowledge. The only safe space I had in this house—on this whole campus—and it’s gone?—”
“Kyle went into your room?” The absolute fury behind Ethan’s words cuts me off, and I blink at him before slowly nodding.
