Page 25 of Blindside Me (Cessna U Hockey #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Jade

I find Drew exactly where I knew he’d be, in the back, near the free weights, punishing his body like it’d drown out everything else. He’s drenched in sweat, headphones jammed in, slamming through a set like the devil’s chasing him. Maybe he is.

I stand there for a second, just watching. The angry lines of his muscles. The tight set of his jaw. The way he refuses to look at anything, as if he keeps moving fast enough, he won’t have to feel whatever’s tearing him apart inside.

I cross the gym floor, nerves buzzing like a live wire, voice steady. “You know, most people just do yoga when they’re having an existential crisis.”

He yanks out one earbud. A smirk forms on his lips, but he doesn’t sit up.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice is low and teasing, but damn, he looks good. His black T-shirt is soaked through, clinging to the hard planes of his chest and back like a second skin. And those gray sweats? They showcase his favorable genetics. It’s a struggle to keep my gaze upwards.

“Too bad,” I fire back, stepping closer, my shoes scuffing against the mat. “Get used to random intrusions.”

He finally lifts his head, and the world narrows to just this when our eyes lock.

No noise. No gym. No other people.

Just him. Just me.

And the hurricane of feelings brewing between us.

“You really shouldn’t be here.” He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat off his face. “I’m serious. Coach has eyes everywhere.”

“There’s no one here, now.” I glance around the room and add, “Besides, I just came to work out.”

His gaze sweeps over my tank top, leggings, and boots. Not exactly dressed for heavy lifting, but passable gym attire nonetheless. “With no water bottle? No towel? No plan?”

Drew and his plans.

I shrug. “Some of us don’t need a NASA-engineered spreadsheet to exercise. Some of us just move our bodies when it feels good.”

His lips twitch. “Just move when it feels good, huh?”

“Mmm.”

“I definitely can make you feel good.”

“Think so, huh?”

“Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

I move closer but come to a halt when the massive bruise on his shoulder takes center stage. “What the hell happened?”

He glances at his shoulder. “Ran into the wall during practice.”

It takes all of my strength not to rush over there and tend to him. He’s a hockey player. This is one bruise of many. But damn if I don’t want to play nurse maiden.

“That looks brutal.”

“You gonna kiss it and make it better? Because if that’s the case, I had one lower on my?—”

“Ha-ha. I told you I was rushed and panicked. I’m a lot better, I promise.”

Drew’s eyes darken as he reaches for the weights again. “On that note, I need to finish this last set.”

“Are you supposed to be working out with the injury?”

“I’m taking it easy on that side.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am.”

I shake my head and lean against the rack. “I’ll just stand here and count your reps. Make sure you don’t cheat.”

“I don’t cheat.”

“Everyone cheats, Drew. Some people just don’t admit it.”

“Not me.” He grits his teeth and starts his set. I count under my breath, making sure he hears me. One … two … three … His biceps flex with each lift, the muscles in his forearms standing out in harsh relief. He’s beautiful when he’s concentrating.

Drew makes it to eight before his form starts to slip. By the count of ten, he’s clearly struggling. I stay silent, watching him push through twelve, thirteen, fourteen?—

“Fifteen,” I say as he finishes. “Wow. You’re really showing that barbell who’s boss. I bet it’s terrified.”

He drops the bar back onto the holder and grabs his towel. “Getting awfully sassy there, Trouble.”

“Isn’t that why you like me?”

“Didn’t say I liked you.” His mouth curves with the lie. He wipes his face and tosses the towel over his shoulder. “You want something?”

I want to call him out, say everything I’m not supposed to say. Instead, I say, “Thought maybe you’d want to apologize. For you know, the part where you ran away like a cartoon ghost after kissing me.”

The smirk freezes. He looks out over the gym, all the way to the closed door that could open any minute and expose us. “I didn’t run.”

“Mmhmm. Sure. Because you’re a big, brave hockey man. My mistake.”

He exhales hard, shoulders rising and falling. “You don’t get it.”

“Try me.”

He pauses before pushing to his feet and grabbing his water bottle. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”

I lean in. “Like what?”

“Distracting.”

I let it sit. “So don’t be distracted.”

His knuckles go white around the water bottle. He looks at me, and for a split second, I see straight through him. The fear. The want. The messy, beating heart underneath all that armor. He looks away first.

“You’re not scared of Coach,” I say. My voice is quiet, but it cuts through.

His jaw tightens.

“You’re scared of me.”

He laughs, but there’s nothing funny in it. “You’re a lot of things, Howell, but scary isn’t one of them.”

“Is it? You’re terrified because when you kissed me, you actually felt something. Something that wasn’t on your precious schedule.”

“It’s complicated.” His voice drops, almost pleading.

“Maybe complicated isn’t the worst thing.”

Drew shakes his head, his expression hardening into something defensive and raw. “Complicated doesn’t get drafted. Complicated doesn’t keep promises.” His hands squeeze the bottle tighter. “Complicated ruins people.”

Each word lands like a blow. I absorb them, refusing to flinch.

I know what drives him. The need to succeed where his brother failed, the impossible expectations, and the fear of letting everyone down.

Drew Klaas, Cessna University’s star defenseman, carries the weight of his family’s dreams like a cross.

“I’m not asking you to ruin anything,” I say, my voice steady despite the scrape of my breath against my throat. “I’m asking you to choose something for yourself for once.”

“You don’t understand how hard that is.”

“Then explain it.”

He opens his mouth, closes it. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the weight bench creaking as he shifts his weight.

“I can’t.”

“So the text this morning…?” I trail off.

“Still stands. But I don’t know how to navigate it.”

I nod and turn to walk away, giving him the choice. He can either live in the present or keep fighting ghosts. It’s his call. I’m not about to set myself up to be left behind again.

One, two, three steps. My nerves crackle so loud I’m sure he can hear them across the gym.

Then, footsteps behind me. Fast, determined. Before I can turn, a hand circles my wrist, spinning me around.

Drew’s eyes are wild, his breathing ragged. For a split second, we stare at each other, caught in the moment before everything explodes.

He closes the gap.

“You know I fucking want you. Despite everything. I want you more than anything.”

“Yeah?”

“More than anything .”

“Then kiss me like you mean it. Like you want to ruin me.”

“You are fucking trouble.”

Before I can respond, his mouth crashes onto mine. The kiss is brutal. Desperate. There’s none of the hesitation from our dorm room run in. This isn’t careful or sweet. It’s pure hunger.

My back hits the wall, and I gasp into his mouth as his body presses against mine. He tastes like salt and anger, his tongue demanding entrance, and I give it to him without a second thought.

His hands are everywhere. Tangling in my hair, gripping my waist, and sliding under my shirt to find bare skin. I’m just as bad, my fingers digging into his good shoulder, clawing at his back, and pulling him closer like I can somehow crawl and fix whatever’s broken if I hold on tight enough.

Blood roars in my ears, drowning out the world. My heart beats against his mouth, against his hands, like it wants to claw its way free.

We break apart, both gasping for air. He rests his forehead against mine, our breaths mixing in the tiny space between us.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” he says, voice rough. “We still have to be careful.”

“It’s not supposed to.”

For a beat, something raw flashes across his face. Then his expression hardens, determination taking over. Before I can process what’s happening, Drew drops to his knees in front of me.

My eyes widen as I realize what he’s about to do. “Drew—” My voice cracks as his hands grip my hips, pressing me back against the wall.

“Shut up,” he growls, looking up at me with a heat that steals my breath. “Just shut up and let me eat this sweet-tasting cunt of yours.”

His fingers dig into the waistband of my leggings, tugging them to my thighs and baring me to the hot, greedy swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck—” I bite down on my wrist. We’re in public. Anyone could walk around the corner and see the team’s star defenseman sucking my clit like it’s the last water in the desert.

But I don’t stop him.

His teeth scrape the inside of my thigh, just enough to make me shiver, before his breath ghosts over my pussy. His hands clamp around my hips, holding me tight against the wall, leaving no chance to squirm or get away.

“Be a good girl and spread these thighs for me.”

“Drew,” I gasp, my fingers twisting in his sweat-damp hair, yanking, but I obey. “If we get caught?—”

He grins against me, wicked and relentless. “Then I hope they learn something.”

And then his mouth is on me.

Not just on me, in me. Drew’s tongue laps slow, filthy circles around my clit before spearing deep and fucking me with it like he’s got a point to prove.

My hips jerk, grinding shamelessly against his face.

He growls and holds me down, grip pressing tight.

He slides one thick finger inside me and then two, crooking up in a way that makes my vision fuzz at the edges.

I can’t breathe. Can’t think. His lips suck, his fingers pump, and every hot, slick drag of him against my cunt pushes me closer to the edge.

My head falls back against the wall with a thud. I press my hand against my mouth, stifling the sounds threatening to escape.

The danger of our location only heightens everything. Each sensation is sharper and more urgent. Drew works me with the same focus he brings to everything: methodical, relentless, and perfectionistic.

Then footsteps echo nearby. Voices. Someone approaches the weight area.

We both freeze. Drew’s eyes meet mine, wide with alarm that quickly morphs into something else. Defiance. Instead of stopping, he doubles down, his movements more determined than ever.

I bite down on my knuckles, my other hand still fisted in his hair. Want and panic collide as the voices draw closer, then veer off toward the cardio machines. The near miss sends a fresh surge of adrenaline through me, pushing me right to the edge.

His free hand snakes up under my sports bra, pinching my nipple until I choke on a moan. “Drew, fuck, I’m?—”

“Yeah?” His voice rasps against my soaked skin. “Gonna come all over my face, Trouble? Do it.”

I lose it. My thighs clamp around his ears as I come hard. My back arches off the wall, and I clamp my hand tighter over my mouth, muffling the sounds that tear from my throat.

For a moment, the world narrows to just this, Drew’s mouth still working me through the aftershocks, my legs trembling, and sweat cooling on my skin.

Then reality rushes back in. We’re in the gym. Where people could come in at any moment. What the actual fuck just happened?

Drew rises to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, but his expression is unreadable. I quickly tug my leggings back into place, my fingers fumbling with the waistband.

“At least your clit won’t be bruised.” Heated humor laces the edges of his tone.

A startled laugh escapes me. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

His lips take mine once more before he backs up enough to look me in the eyes. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestures between us. “Whatever this is. I don’t know how to fit it into my life.”

His honesty disarms me. I rest my hands on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath my palms. “Maybe you don’t have to fit it in,” I say softly. “Maybe it just … is.”

He closes his eyes like he’s trying to absorb my words. His forehead presses to mine one last time.

Then, he steps back. Just a breath at first. Then more.

Like tearing Velcro apart, every inch of distance hurts.

His hand drops from my waist.

My fingers tighten in his shirt for a split second before I force myself to let go.

Neither of us speaks.

There’s nothing left to say that wouldn’t wreck us both.

Drew shoves a hand through his hair, muscles coiled tight, and for a beat, I think he’s about to yank me right back.

About to do something reckless and beautiful and catastrophic.

But he doesn’t.

He stares at me, eyes so dark and torn that it physically hurts to look at him.

Then he turns and walks away, shoulders stiff and fists clenched like he’s leaving a part of himself behind.

I stand frozen, the ache setting like wet concrete, letting him go.

He walked away, but the damage stayed.

For now.

Because he can fight it all he wants.

So can I.

But some battles were lost the second they began.

And this one?

We never even stood a chance.

There was never a version of this where we made it out clean.