Page 35 of Blindside Me (Cessna U Hockey #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Jade

The crowd pours out of the arena in a blur of navy jerseys and leftover adrenaline. I stand off to the side, arms wrapped tight around myself, pretending to scroll my phone. I’m not. I’m watching every doorway, every face, like a desperate girl who got stood up after the final buzzer.

No texts.

No updates.

Not even one of his dumb memes or a half-assed winking emoji.

Just silence. Thick, endless, and loud.

Callie appears at my elbow, face flushed from the cold. “You good?”

I nod, lie, a nd swallow past the lump pressing into my throat. “Yeah. Just waiting on Drew.”

Her eyes flick to the empty sidewalk, the thinning crowd. She doesn’t press.

The last wave of fans stampedes down the steps, and still no sign of him. My pulse stutters and then drops, leaving that hollow, bruised ache in my chest, like I’ve missed a step in the dark.

I check my phone again. Still blank. My stomach knots.

It’s a familiar feeling. Too familiar. Like waiting for my mom to come home.

Like watching my uncle vanish into his coaching career without a backward glance.

Like knowing, deep down, that people say forever when they really mean until it gets hard.

I text him:

Me: You alive?

Three dots don’t appear. The message just sits there, delivered but unread.

So I try again. Something softer. Riskier.

Me: You don’t have to protect me, you know. I’m not going anywhere.

I stare at it for a beat before hitting send. A tiny offering to let him know I care.

Still nothing.

My chest tightens as Roman’s words from last night haunt my thoughts.

Unknown Number: Babe, I need to see you. You blame me, but I’m not the one who left.

Me: Fuck off.

Block and delete.

New Unknown Number: The truth is, you were already gone. I made the mistake, yeah, but you’ve got walls no one can climb. I didn’t cheat because I no longer cared. I only cheated because I didn’t think you’d let me in. But I’m here now. I’ll always be there for you even when you want to run.

Block and delete.

New Unknown Number: You’ll push the new guy away, too.

Maybe Roman was right. Maybe this is how it ends. Not with a door slammed shut or a final fight, but with a text that never gets answered.

“Do you think he’s still with Coach Howell and the athletic director?” Callie’s voice drops to a whisper. “Do you think he’ll be suspended?”

A sick weight settles. Suspended. A devastating word that’s detrimental to Drew’s future. A suspension would wreck a guy who lives and breathes hockey.

“There’s a good chance.” My voice is tight. If I had answered Roman’s call, this could have been prevented. If I had used real words instead of telling him to fuck off, he wouldn’t have baited Drew. What if this is my fault?

“Have you heard from him at all?” Callie asks, yanking me out of my spiral.

I shake my head, holding up my phone. “Nothing since…”

“Since he tried to murder Roman Beaulier with his bare hands,” Callie finishes, blunt as ever.

The memory slams into me, sharp and clear.

Twelve minutes into the third period. Cessna University up by one. The ref’s whistle.

Then Roman skated over to me, and I heard his words again, stitched into the crowd’s roar.

“You think he’s different? Give it time. Once he realizes how messed up you are, he’ll bail, too. Just like everyone else.”

The words stuck to my ribs like tar. They weren’t meant for Drew. They were meant for me. A whispered poison meant to linger after the bruises fade.

It happened so fast. One second, Roman’s smirk is all I see. The next, Drew launches himself at my ex, gloves already off, helmet gone. His fist connects with Roman’s jaw with a sickening crack that somehow carries over the crowd.

“Fucking bastard,” Drew’s voice was unrecognizable as teammates from both sides scramble to separate them.

The asshole laughed through his bloody mouth. “She was damaged goods before I got hold of her.”

Powerful words that have devastating consequences.

Drew had broken free by then, driving Roman backward into the boards. The crowd erupted, some in horror, others in savage delight at the unexpected violence. I stood frozen, unable to process what was happening.

Coach Howell’s face had darkened to a dangerous shade of red as he rushed onto the ice. “Klaas!” he’d bellowed. “Enough! ”

It took three of Drew’s teammates to pull him off Roman. Blood streaked both their jerseys, Drew’s knuckles, and Roman’s face. The raw fury in Drew’s eyes had been terrifying. He never looked at me as they escorted him away. Not once.

I’d stood there, composure splintering, sick with what he’d done and steadied by the fact he did it for me. No one had ever fought for me before. Certainly not my mother, who abandoned me for whatever man caught her attention that week. Not my uncle. No one fought for Jade Howell.

Until now.

“Hey,” Callie says, concern lacing her expression. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I blink, pulling myself back. “Yeah, sorry. Just ... rehashing it all.”

“It was intense,” she agrees, leaning against the wall. “I’ve never seen Drew lose control like that. He’s always so ... contained.”

That’s what rattled me. Drew Klaas may be a wild cannon off the ice, but on it, he is disciplined, focused, and controlled. Tonight, he snapped. Because of me. Because someone had said something about me.

I check my phone again. Still nothing.

Maybe he’s not texting because he knows it’s over. Maybe Coach already made the call.

“He probably had his phone taken away,” Callie offers, clearly trying to make me feel better. “Or maybe he’s just trying to cool off before talking to you.”

“Or maybe he regrets it,” I say, voicing the fear that grows with each silent minute. “Maybe he’s realized I’m not worth the trouble.”

“Jade—”

“It’s fine,” I cut her off, not wanting pity. “It’s not like we were official or anything.”

The lie tastes bitter. Because we were. We even talked about it with my uncle. They don’t know how Drew’s shoulders relax when it’s just the two of us. Or how he actually laughs, a real, unguarded laugh, at my terrible jokes. Or the intensity when we’re together, like he’s memorizing every detail.

But this radio silence says plenty. I know the pattern too well.

“They always leave when it gets hard,” I mutter, shoving my phone into my pocket. “Always.”

“What?” Callie asks.

“Nothing.” I push off from the wall, suddenly feeling exposed. “I should go. I have a paper due Monday.”

It’s a weak excuse, but I need space. Need to stop waiting outside a hockey rink for someone who can’t send a text.

“Jade, Callie!”

I turn. Amanda and Maddie hurry toward us. Amanda’s bundled in a university hoodie, and Maddie, looks perfect as always, even after a three-hour hockey game.

“You want to ride with us to Barton’s?” Amanda asks, green eyes bright.

I pause, wondering if I heard right. “Barton’s?”

“Yeah, to catch up with the guys.”

A flicker of hope ignites, followed by irritation. At myself. Because what the fuck?

“Is…” I pause, trying to sound casual. “Is Drew going?”

The look that passes between Amanda and Maddie says it all.

“I think so,” Maddie says carefully. “Coach let them all go after the meeting.”

“Including Drew? He’s not waiting for the fallout?”

Another look.

“Blake said they won’t know his fate until the NCAA decides.” Her mouth thins. “Guess that’s why Coach Howell let them leave.”

“So he’s been out of his meeting for what, thirty minutes?” I do the math. “And he’s already headed to Barton’s?”

They nod, clearly uncomfortable.

“Great,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “That’s just … great.”

So Drew had time to make plans with his teammates, but not to text me. Not even a simple “I’m okay.” Just silence.

The familiar weight of disappointment settles in my chest. I should be familiar with people leaving, but the sting never fades. It just rewrites itself in new fonts.

“They always leave,” I whisper to myself.

“You’re still welcome to come with us. If you want.” Amanda’s voice is gentle, which makes me want to scream. I don’t need gentle. I don’t need pity.

What I need to do is get to the bottom of why he ditched me.

“To Barton’s?” I force a laugh that sounds hollow even to my own ears. “Sure, why not? I could use a drink.” Tap into that numbness I know all too well.

Callie gives me a look that says she sees right through me, but I ignore it. I’m not going to Barton’s to chase after Drew. I’m going because I refuse to sit alone in my dorm, waiting for a text that might never come.

“Cool,” Maddie says, clearly relieved that the awkward moment has passed. “My car’s just over there.”

I straighten my shoulders and run a hand through my hair, summoning every ounce of confidence I can fake. “Let’s go.”

As I cross the parking lot, a resolve hardens inside me.

I’m not going down without a fight. Drew Klaas might think he can punch a guy for talking about me, then ghost me like I don’t matter.

He might be used to controlling everything—his training, his diet, his emotions—but he doesn’t get to control this.

If he wants to end whatever this is between us, he’ll have to say it to my face. I’ve spent my whole life watching people walk away.

I refuse to let one more.

My fingers curl by my side. Drew isn’t my mother or my uncle. He doesn’t get to disappear without a word. If he wants to end this, he can look me in the eye and say it himself. I’m done being the girl everyone walks away from.

This time, I’m walking straight into the fire.