Page 189 of Stick It
Finn’s a step behind, carrying my backpack and shooting shit with the guys.
And Ethan’s walking in front of me, leading the way with that naturally commanding stride of his. Every so often, he glances over his shoulder like he’s checking I’m still here. Still with him.
It’s quiet for a beat, the kind of peace that settles in when everything feels…right.
It’s simple. Uncomplicated. A perfect end to a long day.
And right now, I don’t want anything else.
The cafeteria hums with the low roar of voices, the clatter of trays, and the squeak of sneakers against tile. Finn’s thigh brushes mine under the table, his hand ghosting across the back of my chair like he owns the space. Ethan sits across from me, sharp blue eyes softened by the way he keeps sneaking glances at my plate as though to make sure I’ve eaten enough. Jax is to my left, quiet as always, but his presence at my side is steady, immovable. Griffin leans back with that calculating smirk of his, saying little but watching everything.
The rest of the team is spread out around us, shouldersbumping, voices overlapping, the easy rhythm of inside jokes and trash talk. And for once, I’m in the middle of it—laughing, chirping back, adding my own digs when someone brags about their shot accuracy.
Ever since Kyle tried to drown me, something’s shifted. The guys haven’t just closed ranks—they’ve pulled me into them. I get texts now, random check-ins, a sophomore sending a meme at midnight just to make sure I’m okay. On the ice, someone always seems to have my back—Matthews grabbing me an extra water before drills, Donaldson quietly retying a loose strap on my pads, Connors knocking into anyone who skates too close a second late. After my first attack outside the stadium, their concern had been…distant. Removed. How anyone would feel hearing about someone they don’t really know ending up in that situation. Any offer of protection or help was offered to Ethan.Forhim. But this? This is different. This isn’t protection out of obligation. It’s rage that one of their own would turn on me. It’s worry not for the incident, but forme.
“Carter,” Matthews calls across the table, smirking. “Tell me straight—whose shot’s harder? Mine or Finn’s?”
The table erupts in laughter, Finn arching a mischievous brow at me like the answer better be obvious. Heat creeps up my neck, but I grin, leaning into the easy ribbing.
“Depends. Do we count the ones that actuallyhit the net?”
A chorus of “Oooooh” follows, and Matthews clutches his chest like I’ve wounded him. Finn just smirks wider, smug as hell, and Ethan shakes his head like he’s trying not to smile. For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m trespassing at this table. I feel like I belong at it.
A thick, sweet, suffocating scent has my nose twitching, and I turn instinctively, my laughter dying on my lips as Selena glides toward us, hips swaying, eyes locked on Finn. A felinesmile curves her mouth, predatory and polished. She’s a viper ready to strike, every step a warning coil.
She doesn’t even pause before she’s pressing up against his side, fake nails grazing his chest. “Hey, babe.” Her voice is syrupy, a practiced purr, and I’m still staring at her in shock when she blows my mind by lowering herself right into his lap like she belongs there.
Only she doesn’t land.
Finn’s hands are on her hips, but instead of holding her steady, he shoves her firmly off.
“What the hell, Finn?” Selena’s voice is shrill, disbelief twisting her features.
“Not interested, Selena,” he states flatly, barely sparing her a glance as he drags his chair closer to mine. His arm drapes over my shoulders, pulling me tight into his side as his lips brush the crown of my head, casual but unmistakable.
Selena stumbles back, blinking like she’s been slapped. “Excuse me?”
Finn’s gaze meets mine, an apology in his green depths before he sighs and turns to face her.
“I’m. Not. Interested.”
Her face flames, shock crumbling into venom as her eyes cut to me, sharp enough to slice. “You’ve got to be kidding me.Her?The little Bench Bunny? What, you couldn’t find anyone with an actual chest?”
Hey! Rude!Not all of us want giant tits jiggling in our face. I can’t imagine anything worse than attempting to score a goal with those giant blobs of hers getting in the way.
Before I can say a word, Griffin’s voice cuts through, dark and unamused. “Watch it.” He leans forward, pale blue eyes glinting like a predator scenting blood. “You’re about three seconds from getting dragged out of here by your hair.”
Selena turns wide eyes on Griffin, backing up astep at the vicious look shadowing his features. However, it’s not enough to stop the slight sneer that curls her lips. “I bet she’s sleeping with you, too.” Scanning the broader table, her disgust deepens as she spits, “All of you.” She laughs caustically. “That’s what a Bench Bunny does, after all.”
My lungs lock, eyes sweeping the room and realizing we have the attention of everyone in here. Of course we do. I can practically hear the whispers, the speculation from our onlookers. Then, the scraping of chair legs snaps my attention back to the table.
Ethan is standing now, every inch of him radiating authority as he stares Selena down. “Get out.”
Another chair scrapes. Jax. His voice is quiet but thrums with warning as he mirrors Ethan. “Leave. Now.”
Selena falters, but her sneer snaps back in place. “Wow. She really does have you all wrapped around her?—”
“Shut. Up.” Finn’s tone is sharp enough to cut glass. His arm tightens around me, a vice-like squeeze before he also rises. He stares Selena down. “Funny thing, Selena,” he sneers at her. “You keep calling her a Bench Bunny, but you’re the only one I’ve ever seen hopping from lap to lap.”
