Page 10 of Break the Ice
Elijah grabs me, guiding me away as Presley sputters curses behind us.
“You’re not his type,” Presley calls. “Remember the Bobcats, pretty boy? Every fucking hole?—”
Elijah freezes.
I feel his heart slam against my shoulder before he moves again, faster now, grip like iron.
“Elijah,” I plead. “He’s not worth it. Take me away.”
His jaw ticks. His voice rough. “You are.”
We reach the SUV. He buckles me in, hands shaking, then leans into the wheel, forehead pressed to his arms.
Breath in. Out. Again.
Finally, he sits back, forcing a smile that never reaches his eyes.
“Finley,” he murmurs, brushing my hair back.
My trembling hand catches his before he can pull away.
Tears choke my throat. “You came back.”
“Too late.” His stare falls to my neck where Presley’s grip left its ghost.
“No. You came like you promised.”
He nods once. Starts the car. Drives us away.
Without looking back.
Without another word.
CHAPTER 4
JAYDEN
If my legs bounce any higher, the plates on the table will start dancing in time with the bass muffled through my AirPods. Music was supposed to distract me from the fact no one has heard from Eli since he left our arena more than twenty-four hours ago. Not even Eminem can drown out the silence of undelivered messages.
Eli is the most dependable of the guys. While the others are living their best bachelor life or have kids and families to focus on. He shows up. I message, he replies. I call, he answers. Him going dark is a big deal. My focus is shot.
Eli’s a grown man, I tell myself, staring at my phone beside my plate. He can take care of himself. He’s fine. I’m fine. Sometimes a person needs to zone out, get away from the pressure. It’s okay. He’s okay?—
Fuck.
An Air Pod pops from my ear. Matheo nudges me and tips his chin toward the end of the table where Coach is doing a head count in the hotel restaurant.
“Any of you hear from Sylkes?” he asks, landing a narrowed stare on me. +When I don’t acknowledge Coach’s stare, he goes on, “Jayden?”
Matheo slides me a look that says I told you so.
“I’m not Eli’s keeper,” I mutter, eyes on my plate.
“Bullshit,” Matheo scoffs. “Since Sylkes joined the team, the two of you are joined at the hip. No parties, no late nights…”
“Cut the shit, Hillier. After losing to The Wolves, your energy should be on tonight’s win.” Coach drags out the chair opposite me and sits. “Have you talked to him?”
I shake my head and shred a piece of pasta. “His cell is off.” “Morrow?” Coach catches my wrist to stop the fidget. “Do I need to be worried about him? Should I escalate this?”
