Page 30 of Blindside Me (Cessna U Hockey #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Jade

“Why haven’t you told me about this place before now?” Callie eyes the opening to Captain’s Cup like it’s the Second Coming. I swear if she dropped to her knees and started worshipping the door, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“We haven’t hung out enough, I guess.” That’s not a lie. Between classes and the arena, my social life is basically a rumor.

She gives me a coy look. “Hmm, I feel a certain hockey player has something to do with that.”

I direct my attention to the sign painted on the door, a cartoon sea captain, all beard and bravado. What does that have to do with Wildcats? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” She laughs as I push open the door. The smell inside is a punch of caffeine and sugar, and honestly, after this week, I need both.

“This place is adorable!” Callie’s gaze ping-pongs from the antiqued shiplap to the retro turquoise couches. “So nautical.”

“I figured you’d like it.”

“You were right.” She beelines toward the counter like a woman on a mission. I trail after her, tugging my hoodie sleeves over my hands to keep from checking my phone like a lunatic.

Normal girls get coffee.

Normal girls have chill Saturday mornings.

Normal girls don’t stand there grinning like idiots because a certain hockey player with unfair cheekbones texted them good morning and something about missing how she tasted.

My cheeks burn hotter than the espresso machine, but I don’t care. Not even a little.

“What are you getting?” Callie calls over her shoulder.

“My usual. Black coffee, two sugars.” My voice sounds steady. Good. I can do this. I can be normal, hang with a friend and not obsess over a hot defenseman who should come with a warning label. One that reads: Warning: Big Dick Energy Ahead. Multiple Orgasms Possible. Proceed with Caution.

Jesus. When did I become a size queen?

I shake it off, half-laughing as Callie chats up the barista, a guy from her biochem class, judging by the way they’re talking about enzymes and pipettes. That’s Callie: instantly comfortable, making friends everywhere. A skill I never quite mastered.

My phone buzzes in my hand. The room stutters.

Three seconds. Four. Five.

Don’t seem eager.

Don’t be that girl.

Callie pays for our drinks, and as we move to the pickup counter, I cave and look.

Drew.

Just four letters, but they hit me like a freight train. My breath goes ragged.

Drew: Thinking about you today. Specifically about what you were wearing. Or not wearing.

Heat floods my cheeks. Memory rushes back: his mouth on my skin, his hands unapologetically exploring. I shift on my feet, suddenly too warm.

I type, delete, and type again. My hands are shaking.

Me: If you keep thinking about it, you might need another cold shower. Or I could help with that later?

I hit send before I could overthink it, immediately regretting my boldness.

Too much? Too forward? Why am I like this?

This is why I don’t flirt. Vulnerability is a crack in the armor.

“Oh, my God. Are you sexting?”

“Jesus, Callie. Keep it down?” I glance around, cheeks flaming hotter.

She cackles. “Come on. Your face is giving you away.”

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she’s not wrong.

“Spill it, Howell. You’re blushing like a teenager.”

Before I answer, the barista yells our name, saving me for now. We grab our drinks and scan for seats.

“There’s Amanda Hoyt and Maddy Grimes from the rink.” I point to the two girls sitting near the back room.

“Are they puck bunnies?” Callie’s nose wrinkles like she smelled something foul.

“No. Girlfriends. Should we go say hi?”

She hesitates, which is weird for her. “Nah, they look busy. Let’s grab a table.”

We find a spot, and the moment I sit down, she leans across the table.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook.” She tears off a piece of croissant. “You’ve been checking your phone every thirty seconds.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m observant.” She pops the croissant in her mouth. “And you’re dodging the question.”

I ignore her and flip my phone face down.

It buzzes again.

Callie’s eyebrow quirks. “Ignoring it now, huh?”

I wrap my hands tighter around my cup. “It’s nothing. Just a joke.”

Callie stares me down like she’s calling bullshit.

I cave and peek.

Drew: You’re killing me. Really wish you were here.

A stupid smile threatens to split my face.

So much for chill.

“Drew,” I say his name as if it explains everything.

Callie’s eyes light up. “I knew it!”

“He’s…” I fumbled, searching for words. “He’s intense. Like everything matters more to him than it does to normal people.”

Callie sips her coffee, uncharacteristically quiet.

“And that intensity … when it’s on you?” I shake my head, biting my lip.

“Is terrifying?”

“And exhilarating,” I add quietly.

“So I was right! You do like him.”

I shrug, defensive. “Drew doesn’t play games. When he looks at me, it’s like he actually sees me.”

Callie softens. “He makes you feel seen.”

“Yeah.” The word sticks in my throat. Everyone else sees what they want. Drew sees … me.

Even if it’s terrifying how much he could hurt me.

“Anyway, it’s probably nothing.” I try to brush it off. “He asked why I wasn’t an art major like he actually cared.”

Callie smirks. “Intellectual foreplay. No wonder you disappeared into a closet with him.”

I throw a napkin at her, eyes widening, but I’m smiling. “You know about that?”

“Everyone knows about that.”

Panic spikes in my chest. Please don’t let my uncle find out.

I shove the worry aside. “Anyway, when we’re together, he lets his guard down a little. And when we…”

I trail off, suddenly self-conscious. I don’t usually share details about hookups. They’re not worth sharing.

“When you…?” Callie prompts, eyebrows raised. “Did the vertical tango?”

My cheeks go nuclear. “When we were together, he was still so … present. Like every touch, every moment mattered. Not rushing to the finish line.”

“Damn,” Callie breathes. “That’s not a hookup, Jade. That’s a connection.”

I shake my head, pushing away the thought. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“And now he’s texting you suggestive messages.” Callie grins triumphantly.

“Mmm.”

“Ohhh, I know that look.”

“There is no look.”

“Oh yes, there is. That man’s got you dick drunk.”

I snort. Like a real, coffee-coming-out-of-my-nose kind of snort. “Dick drunk?”

She grins, croissant crumbs on her lips. “It’s like Stockholm syndrome, but for dick. You get one taste and suddenly you’re doing crimes for it.”

“He definitely delivers.” And then some. The stretch. The fullness. I press my thighs together, heat rising through me. God, I am dick drunk.

She leans in, lowering her voice. “No judgment. Last guy I got hot and heavy with was a TA who never even learned my last name. If Drew Klaas is lighting you up, ride that wave.”

“Not sure it’s a wave. Maybe more like a tsunami.” My phone buzzes again, and I crush a smile before it gets out. “He’s relentless.”

“Show me.” She extends her hand, palm up, like a tiny, adorable mob boss.

Nope. No way. She’ll roast me for days.

I eye her. “I’m not showing you our texts.”

She grins. “Oh, so there are nudes?”

“There are no nudes. Yet.” My brain immediately screams shut up, but it’s too late. The words are out there, hanging over the table with the weight of a thousand overshares.

Callie’s jaw drops. “Jade! You sly dog.”

“Shut up. It’s nothing. We’re just … flirty.”

She gives me a slow clap. “This is serious. And he clearly is into you. I get it.”

“Callie! Jade! We thought that was you!” Amanda’s all sunshine as they slide into the booth.

“We’ve heard so much about you!” Maddy beams.

About me or about me and Drew?

I stiffen.

Callie covers, chatting easily. We talk about team updates, campus gossip, and tournament plans, but the back of my mind is racing.

“It’s always boring when the guys have away games,” Amanda says. “But Blake says Drew was on fire last night. His defensive plays have never been sharper.”

I try not to blush.

I fail.

Maddy laughs. “We were starting to wonder if Drew would ever let loose again. He’s been so serious since his suspension.”

Their laughter is casual, but it leaves a burn.

They don’t know the Drew who presses bruising kisses into your skin like he’s starving.

They don’t know how his walls drop when you catch him off guard.

But I do.

I smile tightly. “Maybe he decided he likes being boring?”

They laugh and move on.

And I pretend it doesn’t sting.

We’re just settling into a rhythm when my phone buzzes again.

I expect Drew.

It’s not.

Unknown Number: We should catch up after the game next week. We have unfinished business.

My face pales. Hands tremble before I can stop them. I set my phone down too fast, the clatter drawing Callie’s attention. Suddenly, the café is too loud, too bright, the walls closing in.

It has to be Roman. The ex who spent months tearing me down and made sure everyone knew it. The guy who turned our private moments into locker room jokes. The guy who showed up drunk at my door, sometimes begging, sometimes threatening.

And now he’s back. I knew we had to face his team next weekend, but I blocked it out.

“You okay?” Callie asks, voice low.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

The conversation around me blurs. Maddy’s talking fundraisers. Amanda’s listing local bars.

I hear none of it.

I fight to keep breathing.

Roman doesn’t matter. He’s the past. A toxic, manipulative past that I’ve worked hard to leave behind. But one text and I’m right back there, weak and exposed.

The coffee turns bitter now.

What does Roman want? Why now? Is it because he knows about Drew? He always had a sixth sense for when I was moving on, swooping in just as I started to feel okay again.

“So anyway,” Amanda continues, completely unaware of my internal struggle, “we’re thinking about hitting that new place downtown after the tournament. You two should come! The whole team will be there.”

Callie jumps in, giving me a second to pull it together. “Sounds fun! Right, Jade?”

I look up, forcing a smile. “Absolutely.”

Callie shoots me a look.

Please don’t ask.

I thought maybe she had read my mind, but the tremble in my hand betrays me.

“Jade, you’re coming to the game Friday, right?” Amanda asks.

“I … I had planned on it,” I say, glancing at Callie. “But now, I’m not so sure.”

Callie’s eyes narrow. “Okay, you’re acting weird. Who was that last text from?”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I told you?—”

“Yeah, but you were all about going to the game. Was that Roman?”

All eyes zero in on me. My heart pounds. Fuck it. I am not bottling this up.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Unbelievable.” Callie says, voice sharp. “God, he’s worse than Easton ever was. At least my ex had the decency to stay gone after we crashed and burned.” Her tone’s casual, but there’s a bite to it, like Easton’s name still stings, a reminder of a breakup that left scars she doesn’t talk about.

I raise an eyebrow, tucking my phone away. “You and Easton? That’s a story I need.”

She snorts, but her fingers tighten on the cup’s handle. “Not worth telling. Let’s just say he’s better at hockey than commitment.” Her smirk doesn’t reach her eyes, and I know there’s more she’s not saying.

“We so need to hear that story, but who’s Roman?” Amanda asks.

“Roman Beaulier. Her ex,” Callie says.

Maddy nearly spits her coffee. “Your ex is Roman Beaulier.”

“Yes.”

“Wait, did he send a threatening text?” Callie asks.

I don’t speak. Only nod.

The girls gasp and exchange glances.

“Don’t let that asshole win.” Amanda’s voice is fierce. “You’ll be at that game, sitting with us.”

For the first time, I feel like I belong. Like I have backup.

But isn’t this always how it goes? Just when I start to feel something real with Drew. Just when I start to trust the flutter in my chest every time those brown eyes find me.

For once, I don’t want to look back. I want to move forward, see what this thing with Drew could be, without dragging all my baggage along. I want to be new again, unburdened.

But the past isn’t done with me yet.