Page 143 of Stick It
Clapping his hands together, Griffin says, “It’s settled then. I’ll move in here and take Kyle’s room, and he can have my old one.”
Finn’s head whips in his direction, eyes narrowing. “We didn’t agree to that.”
“I wasn’t giving you a choice,” Griffin drawls. I swear, he lives to antagonize those around him.
“It’s the best solution,” I say, holding up my hands andpinning Finn with a glare. “It’s him or someone else on the team. Who do you think Dylan would choose?”
That seems to get through to him, and he snaps his jaw shut. Turning his sharp stare to Griffin, he jerks his head toward the stairs. “In that case, you can help me carry down the rest of his shit before he gets home.”
“Where is he anyway?” Griffin inquires, a gleam entering his gaze. “I want to make sure I’m here when he gets back.”
“He went home with some girl he picked up at The Stanley last night,” Finn informs us. “He’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t think this will be enough to make things right with Dylan—or with me,” Griffin states with a touch of warning as he eyes each of us.
“What the fuck did we do to you?” Finn barks.
The look Griffin levels him would have lesser men pissing themselves. But we’re hockey players. We don’t balk in the face of pain. We stand taller.
“You hurt the only thing on this planet that I care more for than hockey.” There’s a possession behind his words, a level of loyalty that runs so deep I don’t believe even death could sever it. “And I will make sure you get on your knees and fuckingbegfor her forgiveness before she gives it to you.”
I can already see what a fucking blast it’s going to be having Griffin living here. Don’t get me wrong, I will willingly get on my knees before Dylan and beg her to forgive me. I just didn’t expect to be doing it with Griffin smirking down at me. Asshole.
43
DYLAN
I checkthe time on my phone, my stomach twisting tighter with every passing second. 7:57 a.m. The team meeting starts in three minutes, and I’m still tucked in an alcove down the corridor, heart hammering against my ribs. I really,reallydon’t want to go in there. I haven’t seen Ethan, Finn, or Jax since Friday night. Haven’t spoken to a single soul besides Wren, Griffin, and Bear, choosing to hide out at Wren’s all weekend. However, Monday has now rolled around, dragging reality with it.
Not showing up to this morning’s meeting isn’t an option. Missing it and practice afterward would mean sitting out the games this weekend, and there is no fucking way I’m letting some humiliating stunt and a shattered heart keep me off the ice.
7:59 a.m.
I dig deep for my big girl pants.
Exhaling sharply, I shove my phone in my pocket and force myself forward. Every step toward the team room feels heavier than the last, but I keep moving, fingers curled into fists at my sides. I’ve got this. They can’t say or do anything worse than what has already been done.
The second I step through the doorway, the room goes silent, all eyes swiveling my way like they’ve been waiting for me. I duck my head, keeping my gaze on the floor as I maneuver through the room. I expect whispers to break out. Hushed laughter. Slurs hissed just loud enough for me to hear. But nothing comes.
Silence clamps over the room like a vise.
I can feel the weight of every gaze pressing into me, but no one says a word. No one smirks. No one sneers. The unease coils tighter inside my chest, but I don’t stop, moving quickly to the back of the room where Griffin always sits. He’s waiting there for me, his hand moving to rest possessively, protectively on my knee as soon as I sit down.
No sooner has my ass hit the chair when Coach marches into the room. If the vicious scowl on his face wasn’t an indicator of his piss-poor mood, the fact that he slams the door so hard the glass rattles in its pane would be.
All heads snap toward the front of the room, players sitting straighter in their chairs, shoulders squared like they are soldiers lined up waiting for their commanding officer’s orders.
Fury rolls off Coach in waves, his expression a mask of unrelenting authority as he glares out over the room with eyes sharp as flint. Even the air crackles with the extent of his contempt as he takes his time, sweeping his gaze over each individual player like he’s committing every face to memory. I fight the urge to scan the room, not wanting to see where Ethan, Finn, or Jax are seated. If they are beside Kyle and his cronies. I definitely do not want to see the smug look on their disgusting fucking faces.
When Coach finally speaks, his voice is a blade, slicing through the air with finely crafted precision. “What happened Friday was adisgrace.” The words land like a slap, several players around me flinching from the verbal blow. “I don’t know which one of you thought it would be funny to humiliate one ofyour teammates, but let me be clear—if you choose to spend your spare time crafting high school pranks,you don’t belong on this team.” His fist bangs against the top of his clipboard.
No one moves. No one speaks. No one dares to even breathe.
My pulse stumbles. Even knowing Bear wouldn’t let this slide, I wasn’t prepared for the force of his anger. The sheer authority in his voice.
“I do not tolerate bullying.” His jaw flexes. “I do not accept hatred amongst teammates. If you have a problem with another player, you bring it to me. We handle it like fuckingadults.” His grip on his control falters as he smacks his clipboard against a nearby table, the sound reverberating through the room and bouncing off the walls.
“When you wear your jersey, when you step ontomy ice, you represent me. You represent this program. You represent this university.” He shakes his head, his voice quieter now. “Friday night was an embarrassment. Not just for the player you humiliated, but for every single one of you.” I struggle not to slide lower in my chair.I am strong. I have survived worse.Instead, I lift my chin an inch higher as Coach glares out over the room and declares, “An attack against one of our players is an attack against us all.”
