"I'm cool." I shrug off his touch, drawn like a magnet to Mollie. "Are you okay?"
She looks up at me, cringing. "He got you pretty good."
It's only then that I realize my lip is bleeding. I touch it and shrug.
Inside, I’m seething. I’m the team’s golden boy. Generally, I don’t get in fights on the ice. I certainly don’t run around punching people.
But that asshole threatened my girl.
I say, "Let's go. You have to let me take care of you now since I defended your honor."
It's a joke, obviously. And thank god, Mollie snorts and says, "Yeah right. Lead the way, oh champion."
I do the only reasonable thing a man in my position would do. I take her to my cabin and take care of her.Is there a shit ton of risk to taking a tipsy Mollie back to my cabin with nearly the whole team watching?
Yes.
But doing the reasonable thing, taking her back to her own cabin, grates against me. I need to know that she’s safe and comfortable.
Consequences be damned.
Once we get in the door, I pull off her shoes, grab a hoodie and pull it down over her head, and then make her lie down on the big bed.
Mollie shivers and I chase the sensation with a blanket. She nibbles on her lower lip. "Thanks, Thorne."
"Of course. Tea?" I walk over to the mini kitchen.
"That'd be nice." Her voice is soft and sleepy. "I think I drank too much."
"You're fine. You didn't do anything wrong." I put the kettle on and pop a tea bag in a mug.
"Well, I got drunk. Maybe I was giving Brad signals. Like... without meaning to?" She hiccups again. "Fucking hiccups."
I walk over and sit down on the bed beside her. "You didn't do anything wrong,” I repeat. “He was a douchebag who tried his luck out on the wrong girl."
"He was pushy.” She wrinkles her nose. “He was trying to get me to go back to his cabin. Which, like… no?”
"It’s creepy. He should know better than to pull that shit at all, much less here. All the girls work for the teams!" I rub my chin. "I think I'll call his team and lodge a complaint."
What’s really sticking in my craw is the idea of what might’ve happened to Mollie if I didn’t spring in. I have no idea if Brad is just an immature frat boy or a serial predator. And the fact that he was trying to take my girl somewhere more secluded… it’s eating at me.
Mollie sits up, brushing back her wild red hair. "Don't do it on my account."
"I’d feel better about it if he learned his lesson.”
She sighs. “You already punched him in the face, Thorne.”
“Maybe he should learn it twice. Next time, he’ll avoid trying to drag drunk girls into the woods.”
The kettle beeps for her tea. I get up and busy myself with pouring the hot water into a cup, adding a little honey, and putting a plate under the mug.
Taking care of Mollie feels natural. When I was a kid, my dad would constantly let my mom down, break her heart, and then come right back and do it all again. And when my mom was at her lowest, I'd make her a cup of tea, make sure the lights were turned down, and tuck her in her recliner in the living room.
I've mastered the art of taking care of someone. It's been years since I last doted on someone like this, but the knowledge is still there, still in my muscle memory.
When I carry the tea back, though, Mollie's eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with tears. She blots at her face and clears her throat.
I set the tea down on the bedside table. "What is it? Do you need something? Tell me what I can do."
