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Pushing the blankets off me, I sit up and glance back at her once more. She looks so peaceful, so sweet lying there, her hair a mess along my pillow, her lips parted, and her lashes kissing her cheeks. Along her neck are red spots from our lovemaking last night, and while I hate that I blemished her gorgeous skin, they give me a certain kind of rush.
She’s mine.
And everyone will see that.
Pulling my gaze from her, I go to get off the bed, but I pause when little, straight lines on her thighs catch my gaze. There have to be hundreds of them, dark ones, thick ones, faded ones. Like cuts. I don’t know how they could have happened because of the way they’re shaped, and they aren’t marks made by stitches. Only thin cuts, long ones too. They had to be made with a knife or something. They’re just odd. When she moves her legs, rolling over, I look away to get down from the bed, my heart causing havoc in my chest.
When my feet hit the floor, I’m unable to breathe.
I’m pretty sure that’s why she doesn’t like the lights on when we have sex.
Which means she’s embarrassed by them.
Swallowing hard, I don’t want to think it, but…
No. She couldn’t have done that to herself.
Could she?
For the rest of the morning, I can’t stop thinking about what I saw.
Work is a blur, and when I hit the ice, I feel like I’m not even there.
That is until Bryan, our big defender, takes me into the boards.
With an umpff, I come off the boards, falling to my knees before getting back up and chasing the puck. It was my fault I got hit like that. I had my head down because I was too busy thinking about Avery. Dumb-ass mistake. Digging in, I make it to the other end within seconds—the joys of being the fastest skater on the team—and block a shot before controlling the puck with my stick. Looking up, I see Markus hauling ass up the middle, and I send the puck quick to him. With ease, he goes five-hole, scoring.
That should have been me. Instead, I was too caught up on what I saw. I’ve gone through every single scenario I could. She was attacked by a beaver or a raccoon? Or maybe a cat! But why between her thighs? Then I think maybe she was raped. But that doesn’t feel right because, if that were the case, I wouldn’t think she would be so into sex now. Baylor was almost raped earlier this year, and she didn’t have sex with Jayden for months; she even had to go to counseling for it. But maybe Avery has gone to counseling, and it happened a long time ago? But what did the sicko do? Cut her up?
It just doesn’t make sense, and it’s driving me mad.
I go to back to the end of the line, and Markus meets me there, tapping my shin with his stick. “Great pass.”
I nod. “Great shot.”
He grins at me, but I don’t return it. I want this to be over so I can go find her. But what am I going to say? Do I just ask her? Will she shut down on me or freak out? Fuck, it’s driving me batshit and also scaring the shit out of me.
“What’s got you all messed up? Since you locked me out of my room, I’m sure you got laid. You shouldn’t be looking like I just took your spot in the draft.”
I snort. “Please. Won’t happen.”
Markus laughs. “Just sayin’. You look like shit.”
“Hungover.”
“No, that’s not it.” I feel him eyeing me. I don’t kno
w how to tell him this, though. Or if I should. It’s no one’s business, not even mine, but I saw it and I don’t know what to do. I need someone to guide me, but I don’t want him knowing that about Avery. Whatever it is.
“What’s up? She break up with you? Or, wait, un-Javery you? Stupid shit.”
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “No, we’re together now. No more Javery.”
“Thank God,” he moans. “That shit was wack.”
I smile as I watch the next play go. We are cleaning up our game, and I really think we have a chance at the cup this year. We are playing some major teams this year since we moved up into the Big Ten, but I’m ready. I may be nervous, but I’m confident in my team. We’ve got this.
If I can get my head out of my ass and focus.
