Page 7 of Blindside Me (Cessna U Hockey #3)
CHAPTER SEVEN
Drew
She doesn’t look back.
My hand tightens around the bag handle as Jade slings her giant purse over her shoulder and walks away, chin lifted as if nothing just happened. Like she didn’t just torch me and leave me standing here, every nerve in my body sparking like live wires.
Good. I’m glad she’s gone.
That should be it. End of story.
I suck in a slow breath, palm pressed against the wall, and try to convince my heart to stop jackhammering in my chest.
It’s better this way. Cleaner. Safer. Easier.
So why the hell am I still staring at the spot where she disappeared?
She got too close. Too bold. Too damn dangerous. And I didn’t shove her away.
Couldn’t.
She talks like she doesn’t care, but the way she looked at me? That wasn’t fake. Wasn’t some act. It was worse.
It was real.
And that makes her a liability.
I rub my thumb along the ridges of my bag’s handle. My grip’s still too tight, like I’m hanging on to something that’s already gone.
The way her voice dropped when she said I wasn’t making her leave. The way her breath hitched when our fingers brushed. The way she didn’t run when she should have. That kind of chaos doesn’t just fade.
It sticks.
And I can’t afford anything that sticks.
She’s Coach Howell’s niece. She’s in my class. She’s the girl from the club.
Pick one. Any of those is reason enough to steer clear.
All three? That’s a career-ender.
I drag in another breath, sharper this time. But her laugh still echoes in my head. That quick, reckless sound. The way her voice went soft right before we almost touched. The flash in her eyes like she knew she was trouble.
And the worse part? I liked it.
A throat clears behind me.
I close my eyes, forgetting for a second I wasn’t alone. When I open them, Coach Howell stands there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
Great.
This year’s off to a killer start.
“Son, I’m only going to say this once. Stay away from Jade.”
He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t need to. The words land like a sledgehammer.
“Don’t make me regret trusting you.”
I nod, jaw locked. No argument, no excuses. Just quiet acceptance.
His warning should be a relief. An easy out. A hard boundary I didn’t have the guts to draw myself.
But all it does is make her more magnetic.
Coach studies me a second longer, and I shift my stance. He knows I’m a step too close to the edge.
“Good. Now get your shit together. Scouts will be at the Elmwood game. You need to take it seriously.”
Hope ignites like a freaking inferno inside me. I’ve been waiting for this chance. Waiting for someone to see me.
“Am I playing?”
“Your suspension was for one game. You’ll be dressed and play your heart out.”
For the first time in weeks, I feel myself starting to relax.
“Keep your eye on the game. That’s what matters.” He claps a heavy hand on my shoulder, not punishing, but firm. Then he turns and disappears down the hall.
I don’t move.
Silence wraps around me, thick as fog, and the only thing loud is the rule I’m about to break.
I let my head fall against the cool tile and stare at the ceiling.
She’s off-limits.
Right.
So why do I want her more now than I did five minutes ago?
I grit my teeth, push off the wall, and grip my bag like it might keep me grounded.
Off-limits never stopped me before.
But this time?
I might not want to.