Page 16 of Lawson

Monroe and I silently consider, no doubt she's visualizing what I'm visualizing—Nash Stokehill, the Badgers’ resident player, gracing all the social media sites with videos or pictures of him without his shirt on, working out in the gym, flexing muscles upon muscles, flashing the ink that decorates his chest, his dirty-blond hair pulled back in a tie, a neatly trimmed beard lining a strong-as-hell jaw.

Monroe and I purse our lips and nod, unable to argue with her, but I've never had any desire to climb Nash like a tree…which were Reese’sexactwords after two White Claws second semester of freshman year.

Now Lawson Wolfe on the other hand? I didn't need alcohol to admit I thought about it more than once since that kiss a week ago. Fantasizing about it and actually acting on it were two different things, the latter I had no intention of ever doing.

“Either way,” I say getting back to the original question. “Nash has been cool about it too.”

“Have any of them signed up for private lessons?”

“Yes,” I say. “One rookie, Baylor, and Pax.”

“Aww,” Monroe drags out the word, a prideful grin shaping her full lips. They're painted red today, which you would think would clash with the Badger colors but only makes her look more fire. “That's so sweet of him.”

“It really is,” I say. “Pax doesn't need my help as much as the other guys do, but him being a vet and signing up just like Baylor definitely gives me more credibility.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I quickly retrieve it, wondering if it'll be another player seeking out my services. I can only juggle so many, but I’ll cram as many as I can into my schedule if it means they’re going to take me seriously.

I swipe open my screen, and swallow hard when I see the text.

Brian: You promised me. We planned this for years Blakely. You can't go back on your word. You need to get over this little tiff between us and come back to your senses. I only push you so hard because I know you can be better.

“Fuck,” I sigh, shaking my head and sliding my phone across the table. “He won’t quit.”

Monroe and Reese immediately lean over to read the text, their faces curling in disgust as they gently nudge the phone back toward me. I close out the screen and pocket my phone with no intention to respond.

“It's been over a month,” Reese says. “You've told him a dozen times you're not getting back together. How can he not get that through his head?”

“Because he's a narcissistic asshole,” Monroe answers for me, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms over her chest. “Narcissists only believe what they want to believe. And in his mind, Blakely belongs to him.”

I blow out of breath, my heart ticking up a few notches as adrenaline threatens to flood my veins. Every text he sends me feels like a threat, like he might pop up at any minute and start begging again. Like he did the night Lawson intervened. It was the first time I'd ever seen Brian back off without me having to physically leave the area I was in to get him to leave me alone.

“You'd think that after seeing her with Lawson that night he'd back off,” Reese says as if she's reading my thoughts.

“I don't know if he believed it,” I admit. “It's not like he’d ever seen me with him before, and he's been around enough to know if I had a new boyfriend.”

“Maybe you should keep up the act,” Monroe suggests with a shrug. “Maybe if he saw you out with someone more, he'd take the hint.”

I groan. “Why should I have to concoct something like that? Why can’t he just act like an adult and move on?”

I’d broken up with him in the most mature, respectful way I could. Things had been going south between us for a year before I finally realized I didn't deserve to be in a relationship where I was constantly belittled and put on the back burner. Looking back, I honestly don't know how I endured four years with him, except for the fact that we had the same ambitions when it came to figure skating. His dreams of winning competitions and then landing a spot on the reality show, had been inspirational when we first met. Just like he'd been charming when we first met too.

It wasn't until I'd been with him for a little over a year that I started noticing some of the red flags that my friends saw straight away.

I blame my lack of perceptiveness on the fact that we were in all the same classes and we worked after school on routines and training. My world was consumed by him and his aspirations. It didn't matter how many times I told him that I had no interest in having a career as a figure skater, that my dreams laid with hockey and always had, he didn’t care. He always brushed off my ambitions as fantasies that I’d get over and skate dutifully at his side for as long as he wanted me there.

But I'd fallen in love with hockey long before I fell for him. And, thanks to my dad and his coaching position, I'd fallen in love with the Bangor Badgers.

Once Brian realized I wasn't in the relationship to help further his career is when the mask came off. He'd always been a bit on the self-centered side, but once he knew that my career aspirations lied with the Badgers, he really took the gloves off. He forced ultimatums on me and degraded my talents, telling me I'd never get a job on the team unless my father's name was dropped, and went so far as to say that I’d be better off if I married him and traveled the world on the competition circuit.

I feel like an idiot for staying with him as long as I did.

But out of respect for the amount of time we’d been in a relationship, I’d sat him down face to face and told him I didn't love him anymore, didn't love the way he treated me, and that there would be nousanymore.

He'd punched a hole through the wall of his apartment, and I'd been so shocked by the outburst that I hadn't been able to move. I'd been across the room, but it was no less impactful, no less scary. I said goodbye and rushed out of there as fast as I could, hoping that would be that.

It wasn't.

Reese flashes Monroe another chiding look, but I wave her off. “She’s not wrong,” I say. “Brian doesn't want me back. Not for who I am, anyway. He wants what I can offer him. An accredited figure skater to enter competitions with, and to be on his arm at events to give him clout. I wish I would’ve seen that sooner and not wasted so many years on him.”

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