Page 80 of Break the Ice
The agony of it pulls me to my knees as I lap at the water in my hands. Trying to put something more inside me. Something that will help cleanse me. Nothing works. It’s all still in there. Hammering in my chest. Slicking through my veins.
And sometimes…sometimesyou have to bleed it out.Sometimesthe only way to atone is to bleed. Clawing at the strainer, I frantically pull at it. Working the silicone loose with my short nails until it comes loose.
The sharp point of the screw grazes along my thumb before I grasp the disc in my hand and press the screw into the top of my thigh. Just the tip, deep enough that when I drag it across, my gritted cries empty my chest as my wickedness trickles over my skin.
I watch it stain the water before it swirls down the drain.
A trickle at a time. Drop by drop.
Just like every other time.
CHAPTER 23
JAYDEN
Eli is still unusually quiet when the press is let into the locker room. Tonight was a hard-fought win that went all the way through to a shoot-out between us and Chicago. Not the kind of showdown we want at home.
In between questions from the reporter I’m talking to, I watch him give a distracted interview to one of the major networks. It leaves the reporter dissatisfied enough that she finds another of the guys to talk to before the post-game press time is up.
“So what’s your take from today’s game?” The guy asks me, pushing the microphone right into my face before he’s finished observing, “The lack of connect between you and Sylkes seemed like one of the major flaws in the Comets’ game. The defense was scatty at times… not something expected from your partnership.”
I swallow, glancing back at Eli to find his intent stare on me. It’s hard to think past the rush of my pulse even when I focus back on the reporter. “Umm… it’s been a grueling start to the season. You know, uhh…”
“There’s been a lot of drama off the ice as well as on the ice...”
I ignore his quip, because it’s bullshit. Eli doesn’t let anything affect his game. Ever.
Today was simply a bad day. We all have them.
Still, there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head echoing the distance the reporter is talking about.
What if I’m ruining our partnership with my stupid attraction to hisgirl? What kind of friend am I to be thinking about Finley in any way other than his?
“Maybe the distractions are bleeding into the game...”
“No. Not at all. We’ve had a few runs of back-to-back games, but we’re definitely gonna work on tightening the defense. You know, uhhh… reviewing the mistakes we made, the holes we left open… and, ummm, yeah, we’ll be working hard to avoid going beyond the regulation clock.”
“Thanks,” the reporter salutes me with the mic before joining the other members of the press being herded out of the locker room.
Elijah is straight in the shower. In and out before I’ve finished signing my shirt for auction along with my stick and few other items of merch. Luckily, Coach asks to talk to him which means I’m showered, ready to go home, and waiting for him when they’re done.
I don’t know what’s happened since we went to dinner a couple nights ago, but it feels like he’s avoiding me outside the arena. Although he sometimes needs space, it’s never been like this. Never affected our game.
“It’s for your own good, son,” Coach tells Eli as he snatches up his baseball cap and pulls it down over his damp hair. “Schedule the appointment.”
What appointment? Is he talking about Dr. Armstrong again?
Coach’s blue stare narrows on me. “See you tomorrow, boys!”
I follow Eli out. We each drove ourselves to the arena today, and he’s striding to his car like he’s on a mission.
A mission to get away from me. I’m so over pussyfooting around the awkwardness that I chase his stride with my own.
“Wait up, man,” I call, only for him to ignore me.What the fuck?“Eli!”
He pauses as he slams the trunk of his SUV shut. His hands are on his hips, and I can only see the hard set of his jaw shadowed by the bill of his cap.
“What’s up?” He asks.
