Page 81 of Stick It
Eventually, Jax sighs, stretching as he stands. “I’m gonna grab some sleep.” He moves toward the door but pauses when he sees I haven’t moved. “You coming?”
I shake my head, stepping farther into the room. “No. I’m gonna stay. Keep an eye on her. Just in case.” I sink into the chair he just vacated, gaze intent on the rhythmic rise and fall of Dylan’s chest.
I feel Jax’s eyes on me for a second before his presence disappears from the room, leaving me alone with Dylan.
Slipping my hand into hers on top of the sheet, I make a silent promise not to let her down again. Not as a captain. Not as a roommate. Not as a friend.
I can’t promise anything more. I won’t. Not when my head is a mess and it’s obvious Jax has feelings for her. Plus, whatever the hell is going on between her and Griffin. And if what Griffin said is true, Finn has something for her too.
I wipe a hand down my face. What a clusterfuck.
Keeping my hand in hers, I sink back into my chair and watch over her. Because, for tonight at least, that’s the only thing that makes sense.
Crust lines my lids as I groggily peel them open. I’m momentarily blinded by the first rays of morning light creeping through the window. My neck is stiff from a night spent sitting upright, and I roll it, feeling the muscles pop and grind as I work out the kinks.
Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I shift slightly, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle deep in my bones. Then my gaze lands on her.
Dylan is still sound asleep, her face turned toward me, the soft glow of dawn casting shadows over the bruises marring her skin. The darkening mark along her jaw. The scrape on her temple. The faint imprint of a boot print along her arm.
I’m not sure whether it’s the light of day or the passage of time, but her injuries look even worse this morning.
A fresh wave of fury rolls through me, raw and unrelenting.
How could anyone do this to her? My teeth grind, and I have to focus on my breathing, so I don’t march out of here to track down the sick fucks who did this.
If Griffin is right, that sick fuck is Kyle. Well, one of them.
I want to believe he wouldn’t go this far, but the truth is, I don’t know. Clearly, I don’t know anything anymore.
And for that, I can only blame myself.
Guilt gnaws at me.
Dylan stirs, her breathing hitching. My eyes snap to her face as her eyelids flutter. Then, slowly, those hazel eyes of hers blink open. They’re lighter in the morning sun, flecks of green and gold swirling in the amber.
I exhale, some of the tension in my chest easing. “Hey.”
She swallows, shifting slightly, wincing. “Hey.” Her voice is rough, barely above a whisper.
“How are you feeling?”
She blinks sluggishly, like she’s taking inventory. “Like I got jumped by three guys last night.”
The corner of my mouth twitches despite myself. “Yeah. That’ll do it.”
She exhales slowly, wincing again as she tries to push herself up. I move on instinct, reaching out to help, but she stiffens. I freeze, withdrawing my hands.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
She shakes her head, avoiding my gaze. “It’s fine.”
A thick silence settles between us. I rub a hand over my jaw as I watch her from beneath my lashes, before finally speaking. “Griffin and Jax admitted that Kyle, Fletcher, and Monroe have been going after you during practice.” Lifting my head, I meet her gaze, my chest tightening. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Dylan looks away, staring at a spot on the blanket. Her fingers twist the fabric, and I can practically see a dozen different responses forming and disintegrating on her tongue before she finally says in a tired voice, “NSU never wanted me on their team. It didn’t matter how hard I worked. Whether I proved myself. I came with built-in tits and a vagina so I was automatically excommunicated, regardless of my abilities on the ice.” She pauses, swallowing roughly, still not looking up from that spot on the blanket as she twists the fabric tighter between her fingers. “Maybe it would have been different if Lucas wasn’t their captain.” My nostrils flare. I get the sick sense I know where this is going.
“He encouraged their tormenting,” I fill in when it seems as though Dylan can’t quite get the words out.
She nods, and it seems as though it takes every ounce of strength she has left to lift her head to meet my gaze. “He didn’t just encourage it. He instigated it. He propagated the bullying.” Her lips twist. So much heartache and wistfulness shines from those hazel depths. “I’ve never been able to trust my captain before.” Her words land like a gut punch. “I’ve only ever had myself to rely on. And I know you’re not Lucas, but?—”
