“Fuck,” Jack swears, pulling out his phone before looking at me with his intense gaze. A part of me feels relieved that he knows about Bradley, but what I appreciate most is he’s not looking at me any differently. “Get your stuff, you’re not staying here.”
“And go where? Jack, this is where I live.”
His face softens, and his hand lifts to rub the top of his shirt, subconsciously finding comfort in whatever meaning lies behind the silver he wears around his neck. “I know you don’t want to let him control you, so if it makes you feel better, do it for me. Please, stay at my place. It’d make me feel better about leaving you alone, and Dylan already told Ellie not to come here. We’ll figure it all out later.”
“I won’t hide from him this time,” I insist, and maybe it makes me stupid.
Jack moves to kneel in front of me, reaching to pull the pillow out of my hands. “I’m not asking you to hide, Alondra. I’m asking you to give me a little time to figure this all out becauseI won’t be able to focus on hockey tonight if the only thing I can think about is whether you’re safe or not.”
I grip his hands before he can pull them away to give me space. “Okay,” I whisper, dipping my chin in agreement, and he breathes out a sigh.
“I’ve got you,” Jack says, and I lurch forward without a second thought to wrap my arms around him. He folds me into his chest, resting his head against mine as I relax in the safety of Jack’s arms.
“Thank you.”
I know I was mad at Macy earlier when I told her she pushed me into kissing Jack, but really, I should be thanking her because who knows where I’d be if she hadn’t.
CHAPTER 17
Jack
My arms ache,and I can feel the sweat dripping down my back underneath all the layers of gear, but I’ve never felt more alive.
Hockey often reminds me of a carefully choreographed dance, each player knowing exactly what steps to take from the countless hours spent getting ready for these sixty minutes. Tonight has been a hard-fought battle, but it’s not over yet, and I refuse to let this game end in a tie with thirty seconds on the clock. The Michigan Lions are good, but we’re better.
The Lions’ forward misses the pass, and I make eye contact with Nate before I take off. “Mine!” I call, retrieving the puck as it bounces off the boards. Checking my other shoulder, I spot Dylan filling in the open area between the dots as the other team’s forward closes the gap I planned to take behind the net. I pass the puck to him as I wheel behind the net, pushing hard to catch up to my zone. Dylan passes the puck to Shane, the senior right wing on our line, and he uses his body to protect the puck, pivoting to drive behind their net as I find a gap in the Lion’s defensive line with both of them trying to focus on the puck and so little time left while their goalie shouts, eying me. Like a well-oiled machine, Shane flicks the puck in my direction as I crashthe net, giving me the perfect opportunity to tip it into the goal just before the buzzer sounds.
“Atta boy, Schultz,” Shane shouts, shaking my shoulders as he lets out a loud whooping sound that disappears as the crowd roars.
I grin at him, relieved this isn’t ending in a fucking tie. “Fucking filthy! You’re an animal,” Dylan says, hitting me from behind and we meet the rest of our team at the bench as Coach Brown tips his head in approval at the breakaway and scoring opportunity I helped facilitate.
For the first time all night, I let myself think about the girl with dark curls who I hope listened to me for once and is waiting at my house with Ellie and Sarah. Thank god we still have another game tomorrow because it means the guys should keep their celebration tonight on the tame side compared to their usual celebrations after a grueling win.
“How does it feel?” Nate asks, clapping me on the back as I unclip my helmet to drop it on the bench while I grab my water bottle, squirting some into my mouth.
“You should know since I thought you were out there with the rest of us.” I snort, giving him a side eye because what the fuck is he talking about? A win feels damn good, and this was a much needed one.
He grins, dragging a hand through his dark hair, damp with sweat. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about your girl showing up with my name on her back,” he says, pointing a gloved hand further up in the stands where I find Ellie, Sara, and Alondra. Sure enough, Alondra’s wearing a Wilder Wolves away jersey with the number four on it—Nate’s number.
My jaw falls open when she lifts her hand in acknowledgement, a faint smirk pulling at her lips, and while I’m happy to see her with her usual spark compared to the way I found her earlier, I’m thrown by how fucking jealous I am.
Nate laughs, and I clamp my jaw shut, forcing a smile, but when her head tips back in a laugh, that’s when I know Al’s trying to get a rise out of me. If I didn’t think it would attract her dad’s attention, I’d consider making a scene.
The hustle back to the locker room is a rush, with everyone chimes in about Shane’s puck handling and how Coop was a wall in the net. On our way to the tunnel, Coach Brown catches me.
“Schultz, whatever lit the fire under your ass tonight, keep it going,” he says, squeezing my shoulder as he glows with pride.
I stare at him for a moment, trying to understand how the man in front of me can be the same one who didn’t show up for his daughter at her last skating competition while her boyfriend hit her. I force a smile that feels wrong. “Will do, Coach,” I say, and he lets go of me, letting me follow the team into the locker room, but the interaction sobers my mood.
The locker room smells worse than a dead animal, the stench of twenty-five hockey players’ gear and sweat casting a fog. I’m quick to strip and jump in the shower, so I can get out of here fast to meet Alondra. “Where are we going tonight to celebrate?” I hear Johnny ask when I walk back to my stall, holding the towel around my waist in place.
He got some playing time during a line change in the second period, and Johnny looked better than he had before I started working with him outside of practice.
Nate looks to me, and I shake my head because I have no plans to go out. As much as I’m sure she’s going to try avoiding the conversation, we need to clue our friends in on Bradley and make a plan to keep Al safe.
“We’ll celebrate tomorrow night. Maybe we should all take a page out of Schultz’s book and spend the night doing our hair with face masks. I think I can do without the black eye, though,” Shane suggests, and I snort, rolling my eyes.
“Wanna see how much of a shit I give?” I ask, flipping him off with both hands. Honestly, I keep forgetting I have the damn thing until someone else mentions it.
