Page 96 of Scarred

“Yes,” I whisper again, feeling like a broken record. “I just didn’t expect…I mean, I had hoped, but…” I turn toward her suddenly. “I’m not imagining things, am I? That wasn’t just a casual I want you in my bed type of look?”

“Well, he definitely wants that,” she laughs, shaking her head, “but no, you aren’t imagining things. It’s the same look I’ve seen in Knox…the same one I see in all my brothers when they look at their wives,” she smiles. “He’s got it bad, and if I know Cayden, he’s going to fight this hard until he can’t anymore. If you haven’t figured it out by now, most men are stubborn,” she chuckles. “Trust me…I know. I married one.”

Her blue eyes get soft as she watches Knox shoot the puck over to Thane before smiling back at me. “But when they finally do let their guard down, they love harder than anyone I know. Guys like Knox and Cayden have lived through the worst and are guarded for a reason. They don’t let love in easily, pushing it away and living with it just outside their reach, where they can control it. Until one day, it becomes too hard to contain, consuming them until they have no choice but to walk into the flames and pray it won’t be taken away again.”

My eyes drift back to Cayden, and he’s zeroed in on the pucks his teammates are shooting his way. His movements are quick and instinctual, never missing a beat. He’s like a machine out there, trained and lethal to anyone who wants past him.

“That man right there,” Savi says, following my gaze to Cayden, “is one step away from thinking he’s losing everything he’s tried so hard to protect when in reality he’s gaining everything. He just needs to realize it.” She pats my leg and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “It’s all going to work out the way it’s meant to.”

The players leave the ice one by one to get ready for the start of the game. Cayden flips his helmet up, and his face is stone cold and in complete game mode as he removes a glove. Not an ounce of emotion is on his face as he slowly lets his blades glide him to the bench.

Right before he enters the locker room entryway, his eyes scan the crowd before finding me. If you weren’t looking for it, you would never see it, but the small curve of his lip on his left side is all the confirmation I need.

He’s glad I’m here.

And somehow that tiny smile seems more dangerous and intimate than all the looks before it.

TWENTY-NINE

CAYDEN

My blades hit the floor as we walk down the hall. A smile curves at my lips, just fighting to come out.

She’s here.

Not only is her gorgeous ass in those seats, but she’s wearing my hoodie.

I felt her before I saw her, like a goddamn magnet being pulled in one direction.

When my eyes finally landed on her, I couldn’t see anything else. The hoodie was just the nail in my coffin.

It was too easy to picture her sitting there at every game.

Too easy to imagine my jersey and number on her body.

Ever since I saw her with Scar eating ice cream, it’s been too easy to picture her in all aspects of my life…permanently.

It’s getting harder and harder to ignore the connection we share. There’s nothing casual about it.

Never has been.

Putting my headphones on when I get to the locker room, I do my best to push away my thoughts and zone out for the next ten minutes. By the time it’s go time, I’m focused to the max as I walk the hall, leading the way with the rest of the starting lineup.

Shifting on my skates, I grip my stick harder and see the world disappear behind the cage of my mask. Sticks are tapped to my pads, and gloves are knocked to helmets.

A brotherhood that can only be felt if you’ve stood in this tunnel and walked this same line.

When the lights dim and my name is called, I hit the ice with purpose. The fans are a distant hum as I reach my net and begin to rough up the ice, getting it exactly the way I want.

I feel her eyes on me every step of the way, and instead of fighting it, I let her seep into me.

A new fire starts to burn deep inside as I warm up my muscles and touch my stick to each side of the net, going through my save motions.

She dances for me.

Tonight, I play for her.

“Get the fuck off,” Kane growls, grabbing the player off of me as I hold the puck from another pressure save. “You get in his net again, and I’m pounding your ass to the ground.”