Page 182 of Puck Me Back to Life

Something inside me snaps.

I spin before I consciously decide to move. My free hand grabs the front of his shirt. The next thing I know, Ash's back hits the tiled wall with a dull thud.

The sound echoes through the empty shower room. For one suspended second neither of us moves.

My breathing comes fast.

His eyes are wide.

Not frightened.

Surprised.

I don't think he's ever seen me angry before.

Neither have I.

I hold his shirt tightly enough that my injured hand throbs. I barely notice.

I lean closer until only a few inches separate us.

My voice comes out low. Quiet. Far calmer than I feel. “I may have let you have control over me for the past few months. Let you fuck me, tie me up to your bedpost, call you fucking sir. But you don't have any control over me, Ash. It was only because I let you.”

Ash doesn't interrupt.

He just watches me.

His expression has changed completely.

The confidence is gone.

The teasing.

The certainty.

All of it.

“I said leave me alone.”

The words hang between us. For the first time since we met, Ash doesn't know what to say.

I slowly let go of his shirt.

The fabric remains wrinkled where I'd been gripping it. He stays exactly where he is against the wall.

Still looking at me. Still processing what just happened.

“I…” he starts quietly, “Kai…”

“No.” I step around him without another word.

The locker room feels impossibly loud despite only a handful of teammates being inside.

Equipment bags zip open. Tape tears. Someone laughs at the far end of the room. The ordinary sounds of hockey continue as though nothing has happened. I sit heavily at my stall and begin pulling on my gear.

My hands shake enough that tying my skates takes twice as long.

Across the room, Ash finally walks out of the shower area. No one seems to notice the silence following him. He moves more slowly than usual. When he reaches his own stall, he doesn't look at me.