Page 89 of Racking Up Penalties
I catch my breath, still trembling from the encounter, but Ethan’s intervention cocoons me in safety. His anger isn’t just a response; it’s a declaration, a line drawn in the sand that demands respect for my well-being.
“Understood?” Ethan steps closer to Tyler, who’s nursing his jaw and glaring up with a mix of shock and defiance. But even Tyler seems to sense that Ethan’s fury is not to be tested further.
“Fine,” Tyler grunts, pushing himself off the floor with a grimace. He throws a venomous look my way, but there’s a wariness in his gaze now. Ethan has altered the equation and instilled a fear in him that wasn’t there moments ago.
Ethan turns to me, his expression softening as he takes in my state. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, the transition from rage to care almost instantaneous.
I nod, still catching my breath, unable to fully articulate my gratitude. In Ethan’s unwavering stance, I see the depth of his affection for me.
“Let’s get back to the others,” he says gently, offering me an arm to steady myself. As we walk back toward the bar, I lean into his strength, grateful for the sanctuary it provides.
We’re halfway down the dimly lit corridor when I halt, my hand gripping Ethan’s forearm. My heart is still trying to escape the confines of my chest, each beat a chaotic rhythm that refuses to slow.
“Ethan,” I start, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t tell Tristan about this.”
He turns to face me, confusion creasing his brow. His protective aura hasn’t waned; it’s a tangible force that both comforts and overwhelms me. “Baby girl, he should know what that jerk tried to do—”
“Please.” It’s a plea wrapped in fear, the word spilling from lips that tremble despite my efforts to appear composed. “Tristan can’t know. It’ll just cause trouble, and he’s finally found his place on the team. He will go after Tyler and lose his spot on the team.”
Ethan’s gaze searches mine, the intensity of his brown eyes making me feel as though he’s reaching into the very depths of my soul.
“Okay,” he sighs after a heavy pause, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of my request anchors him to the spot. “I won’t say anything to him.”
“Thank you.” Relief washes over me, cooling the heat of panic that had set my nerves ablaze. But there’s also a twinge of guilt that knots in my stomach, knowing I’m about to keep a secret from Tristan.
“Doesn’t mean I’m okay with it, Tessa,” Ethan adds, his voice low and firm. “If Tyler comes near you again…”
“He won’t,” I interrupt, more assertive now. “I can handle myself. And I have you, don’t I?” A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, an attempt to lighten the mood that’s grown too dense, too dark.
Ethan’s lips twitch the ghost of a smile in return. “Always,” he assures me, his hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear—a gesture so tender it stands in stark contrast to the brute strength he wielded moments before.
My breath catches at the contact, the simple touch igniting a warmth that spreads through my veins.
“Let’s go back,” I murmur.
“Let’s go,” Ethan agrees, and we move together toward the laughter and the light, leaving behind the shadows that linger in the hallway.
Ethan’s hand rests lightly on the small of my back as we step into the cacophonous embrace of the bar. The raucous cheers and laughter of the football team wash over us, mingling with the scent of spilled beer and exuberance. Every fiber of my being craves normalcy—craves to forget the chill of Tyler’s grip.
I see Tristan and Liam leaning against the bar, drinks in hand, their presence like a lighthouse beam cutting through the fog. Relief floods my chest, warm and soothing. It’s not just their physical proximity that comforts me; it’s the unspoken promise of safety they represent.
I put my best smile on my face.
“Hey,” Tristan says, his smile reaching those deep blue eyes that seem to look right through me. “You made it back.”
“Couldn’t stay away from the party for too long,” I quip, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. His gaze is perceptive, and I wonder if he can hear the lie in my laugh, see the unrest lurking beneath the surface.
Liam steps forward, his gray eyes reflecting the pulsing neon lights, and pulls me into a hug that lifts me off my feet. “I missed you, Tessa,” he says, his tone light but his embrace firm.
“Missed you too,” I manage, and it’s the truth. In their arms, I feel the pieces of myself slotting back together, the edges of fear smoothing away.
The weight of Ethan’s gaze lingers on me, protective and questioning, but I offer him a smile and turn my attention back to the celebration around us. Ethan’s understanding and his willingness to respect my wishes anchor me.
“Let’s dance,” I suggest.
“Lead the way,” Liam says with a grin, and together, the four of us merge into the crowd, becoming part of the undulating mass of bodies moving to a rhythm that feels like a triumph.
We dance and we laugh.
