Page 47 of Break the Ice
That kind of stings coming from him. We’re close, or at least closer than I am with the other guys. I’ve never had a friendship with another guy the way I do with Jayden. I haven’t had many friendships at all.
Fuck.
I guess he’s right.
I’m about to tell him I don’t mean to be standoffish when he sits taller and levels me with one of his soft grins. “It’s a general opinion that you are the moodiest asshole on the team.”
“I’m not an asshole,” I argue.
“Well, I mean, you kind of are if everyone thinks you’re cantankerous,” he laughs.
“Wow, that’s a big word for you, JJ,” I chuckle back, taking in the way his eyes light up at my playful teasing.
“See?” He slaps his hand on the armrest between us. “Asshole.”
I can’t not laugh with him, especially when he’s finally coming back to his happy-go-lucky state.
CHAPTER 15
JAYDEN
The smell of vinegar is as nauseating as the slight pressure from Finley’s hand holding the compress she made on my shoulder blade. I knew it the second Jones smashed the wind out of me with his shoulder that it was going to leave a mark. But this is fucking outrageous, I can’t move without the bastard bruise sending a slash of agony to the pit of my stomach.
“You should see Doc in case the damage is deeper than we can see,” Eli says, leaning over his kitchen counter.
Giving me one of his rare lopsided smiles, he rests his chin on the stone surface. Deep brown eyes stare into mine, and instantly all arguments brewing in my head disappear.
He’s fucking gorgeous like this. Looking every bit his twenty-three years rather than the stoney demeanor he usually holds. His blond hair is loose and tousled in all directions now that it’s free from his taut man bun.
I’m lost for words, admiring the sight of him watching Finley taking care of me silently. Maybe I’m wrong, but he looks far too content in the moment. Almost as though he’s enjoying it—his girl touching me.
It’s a crazy thought. Stupid. No guy would enjoy their girl being tactile with his teammate or best friend.
Right?
“Right,” Finley hums, her fingertips tracing over my sensitive skin send a shiver down my spine while she tells me, “Once the bruising goes down, you’ll be fine.”
Her touch is warm and soft, tentative with a little tremble that has my abdomen pulling tight around my stomach.
Slowly, she kneads a careful path to the center of the patch, applying just enough pressure that I hiss, but don’t jump out of the stool like a pussy.
“It always hurts at first,” Eli says, his eyes meeting mine again. “It’ll get better a lot faster.”
With an exhale, I encourage my muscles to relax while I focus on the veins of the granite. In the corner of my vision, Eli’s fingers drum on the counter, and even when I divert my gaze away, my fingertips ache to reach out to his.
Obviously, I don’t.
Instead, I go back to taking him in—his worried expression has my chest constricting around my lungs. Enough that I can’t drag in a breath to hiss every time Finley rubs my shoulder a tad harder.
“The vinegar with the light massage should get enough blood circulating into the bruise to break up the clot. It won’t hurt as much after that, and it’ll fade in no time.”
“How do you know so much about bruises?”
The air thickens with an icy chill as Eli diverts his stare back to Finley when she stiffens behind me. Instantly, a sick feeling takes over me. It’s nothing to do with the Motrin or Tylenol, or the sudden, firm weight of her hand on my shoulder blade, and everything to do with the bitterness hollowing out Eli’s stare to a blacked-out glower. The conversation we had when we were on the road revolves around my head.
The cult they were raised in. Their sadistic ways. Punishment...
“It’s… umm…” Finley sucks in a shaky breath. “I… ugh…”
