Page 134 of Break the Ice
Shit.
I’m about to pour the coffee down the drain when my doorbell rings and my phone vibrates with the notification from the connected app.
Sucking in a deep breath, I steady myself while I watch Eli fuss with his hair in the feed from the doorbell camera. He looks more on edge than normal, and by the time I reach the door, I can feel his nerves like my own.
Pocketing my phone, I open the door. Eli freezes mid hair tug. His dark stare finds mine, and I swear I can hear his thoughts matching mine at a billion miles per second.
“Hey.” He finally speaks.
“Hey.” Fuck, I don’t know what to say. “Ugh… do you want to come in?”
“We probably should leave. Coach wants to see me before morning skate, and I need to drop by Dr. Armstrong’s office…”
Oh, he’s actually going to talk to her.
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to come in, the voice in my head taunts.
For a beat I look for a sign that it’s wrong. That I’m internally spiraling because I spent the best part of my night thinking about Eli, Finley, and me, and there’s nothing I want more. Nothing that’s ever excited me as much as the thought of the three of us together. Nothing feels as right or as perfect as our girl squished between us.
“JJ, you ready?” Eli asks.
“Sure. Yes. Let me grab my things and we can go.”
Quickly, I get my shit and meet him at the elevator. Eli’s staring at the doors, kitbag slung across his back, hands in his pockets.
When I pause next to him, I realize that he hasn’t pressed the call button yet. He’s all in his head and it’s giving me heartburn.
On any given day, brooding Eli doesn’t faze me. However, quiet, brooding Eli after last night isn’t good for my sanity.
“We good?” I ask, leaning across him to press the button.
“Of course. Why?” the question is rushed, somewhat slurred.
“Well—” I shift to face him. “—you’re literally rocking on your feet.”
“I’m… I don’t know…” Combing his fingers through his hair roughly, he sucks in a breath. As he continues, he starts itching his bicep. Scratching at the band-aid peaking from under his short sleeve. “I’m not looking forward to seeing the shrink.”
He’s picking at the covered spot on his arm so bad, that it’s making me even more on edge.
“Eli, stop.” My hand grips his, prying it away from his bicep. “If you’re not ready to talk to her, you don’t have to.”
This is when I should release his hand and step back, but I can’t let go. Not when I can feel his frantic pulse throbbing in my grasp. Not when he doesn’t pull away.
“What if I say the wrong thing and she tells Coach? I mean, it could screw me over. He could properly bench me and?—”
“It’s confidential,” I assure him with a squeeze to his hand before I reluctantly let go.
The regret is instant, but he’s already spiraling about seeing Dr. Armstrong, I don’t want to add to his turmoil.
He and Finley have been through some dark shit. Although I haven’t used the word with either of them, and they probably wouldn’t see it that way—from what I know, they were physically abused, emotionally mistreated…
Talking to a psychologist is going to be hard. At first, it’s going to drudge up a lot of bad feelings. In the long term, it’s going to make him realize that he is this insanely incredible man because of everything he went through. He’ll come to know that the cruelty of others is what makes him strong and kind.
“It’s going to be okay, Eli,” I tell him, carefully stopping him from picking at his arm again. Blood is soaking through the breathable adhesive… “What happened to your arm?”
Too quickly, he yanks his sleeve over the band aid. “Nothing. Just… umm… stupid accident. You know?”
Even though his reply doesn’t sit right with me, I nod. That’s the second random cut or wound he brushes off as nothing. Just an accident. First his leg. Now his arm…
