Page 165 of Break the Ice
I can’t control the eager drum in my chest at the thought of them. At the thought of watching them again.
Jayden’s hands on Finley’s skin. Her body melting with his.
Fuck.
There aren’t enough minutes in a day to stop me from losing myself to the thought of them together. I don’t think there’s anything in this world that can stop my body from reacting to my spiraling thoughts.
It’s a problem. Because I need to get my head in check. To show up to the training session this morning. To keep my wits about me around Coach and Connie.
Dragging my ass out of my SUV, I glance around the empty parking lot. Everyone has a rest day before the team gets back to hustlingtomorrow. Which means the facility is completely silent, barring the soft folky song that’s playing on the radio when I walk in.
As I head to the locker room, my phone chirps and just like that, the anxiety that I’ve been feeling since I woke up this morning lifts a tad when Jayden’s name flashes up.
Good luck with Coach. Let me know how it goes.
Before I reply, another message pops up. A photo this time.
When I open it up, my heart trips over itself. Finley’s asleep on Jayden’s bed. Still in my jersey. Her hair a tangled mess on his pillow...
As I zoom in on her, I notice the reflection in the full-length mirror to the side of the bed. Jayden. His stare is on Finley. Not on his phone. His eyes are stuck on her with that goofy expression on his face that makes me certain this is right.
I can’t stop smiling. Zooming in on Finley and then on Jayden. On Jayden, and then on Finley.
I can’t wait to be done here. To go home. To her.
To them.
I’m so engrossed on the message I’m typing out, I don’t see the person in front of me until it’s too late.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say, glancing up.
Fuck.
Ice drops through my skull to my toes. Ryker. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Is this how it’s always going to be between us?” he asks, shoulders tugging back so he’s maybe an inch taller. “We used to be friends.”
“Used to be,” I say, pocketing my phone and stepping past. “I was your friend until you showed me who you really are.”
“Stop.” His fist hooks my shirt. When I yank away, he twists tighter in the navy cotton. “Stop pretending you didn’t want it. Everyone saw you looking. Not just him. Not just me. They all saw you stare at me. Watch me…”
“If I’d been watching you, I would’ve seen what a piece of shit you are before it was too late.” His mouth curls; his knuckles grind into my side. “Get your fucking hand off me.”
This time when I pull, he lets go. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” Ryker says.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself so you can sleep at night.” I shoulder him aside.
I was always too nice. Not anymore.
“You think you’re so innocent?” He stomps after me, that nervous lisp the guys used to mock hissing through his teeth. “You think you didn’t ask for it with the quiet glances, the secret smiles… it was the same then with me as it is now with Morrow.”
The sudden stop cracks pain behind my eye. Nausea heaves.
“Get his name out of your mouth,” I say, turning. “You were never like him. You could never be him.”
“Hi, Coach Hallman!” A bright voice cuts the charge. Cecilia from PR stands a few feet away with an envelope. “Hey, Elijah,” she adds, waving.
“Cece,” I manage, forcing a smile.
