Page 173 of Break the Ice
I’m in a daze, typing out message after message and deleting it because I can’t seem to get the words right when Dylan walks straight into me. His six-six brawn is shrunk with the way he’s curled in on himself. He’s always the one that stands tall and strong. It’s part of what makes him the daddy of the team.
“Shit,” he steps back with a muddled expression when his eyes meet mine. “Sorry, Eli.”
Something isn’t right.
The thought causes my insides to twist as he side-steps me and I turn on the spot, incapable of ignoring the worry that nags me as he walks away.
“Hey, Dylan,” I call after him, striding to catch up to him. The fact he doesn’t pause cements that something’s up. Stepping in his way when he turns to head down the corridor to Coach’s office I ask, “You okay, man?”
“Huh?” He sounds as glassy as his stare. “What was that?”
Man, he looks like he’s seen a ghost. I’ve never seen him so pale or disheveled. He looks like how I felt right before I collapsed. That recognition stirs a panicked frisson in my gut.
“Fuck, you don’t look so good.” I grip his arm, in case he collapses in on himself. “Do you need to take a seat… some water?”
Red-rimmed and puffy, his gaze meets mine, like he’s trying to decipher what I’m saying. He’s stuck in his head, something I know of all too well.
My heart hurts for him so bad.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I wrap my arm around him, pulling him to the side so that we’re not in the middle of the corridor and the wall is close by for support.
“You okay, bud?” I ask again, wincing at the ridiculous question because it’s more than obvious he’s not.
“I got a meeting with Coach,” he says, staring blankly in the direction of the office.
“Okay. Well, do you need a minute?”
“A minute…” His eyes blink back to mine, completely flooded.
When I wrap my arm tighter around him, a long, guttural sob rushes out of him.
Shit.
I stumble backwards when he collapses into the wall and he drops to his ass. For a long minute, I debate what to do. He’s the pillar of our team, and he’s crumbling in front of me. What do I do? What do I say?
Crouching beside him, I coax, “Dylan, talk to me, man…”
Pulling his legs into his chest, he looks at me. “Paige is sick,” he says, choking on the words that stutter with his sobs.
A lump forms in my throat, blocking all the air from leaving or entering my lungs. From his defeated expression and the despair tracking down his face, I know it’s not the kind of sickness his baby momma is going to get better from. The day Jayden found out his momma had cancer is burned into my memories. The devastation and hopelessness... I’ll never forget it.
If I didn’t know what to say to Dylan before, I’m fucking useless now.
“I’m sorry.”
A scoff hisses between his teeth. “That’s what I told her.”
“What can I do?”
Gripping his sandy hair in his hands, he pulls and tugs at it as he rests his forehead on his knees. When he shrugs, I sit back into the wall, keeping my arm around him so he knows that I’m not going anywhere and that I’m here for whatever he needs even if he doesn’t know what that is yet. He’s not alone.
The soundof Finley’s laughter dissipates some of the heaviness in my chest when I walk into the apartment. A warm sugary scent greets me along with the whisper of caffeine.
“You better not disappear on me next time,” she says into her phone with a playful huff.
I pause in the opening to the living area, watching her pour a couple cups of coffee before she dishes up some of the peach fritters I can smell.
The sight of her in my kitchen eases the heaviness that’s been holding on to my chest since I woke up this morning and realized she wasn’t here. Not a single part of me begrudged that she was with Jayden. I just missed her.
