Page 66 of Stick Handled

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Chapter twenty-two

~DAMIEN~

I left Avery tangled in the sheets this morning, still sleeping soundly, her face half-buried in my pillow. It took everything in me not to wake her up and kiss her until her sleepy little sighs turned into something more. But she needs rest, and I’ve got responsibilities: meetings, schedules, physical therapy, and everything else I’m not in the mood for.

Last night was the first time I admitted it to myself. I’m in love with her. And for once, I didn’t try to fight it. No running, no deflecting. Just truth. And she said it back. I can hear that sweet voice of hers in my head, saying,I’m in love with you, too.The confession is burned into my skin, leaving marks no one can see.

Now, I’m stuck in a meeting I don’t care about, surrounded by people telling me how to spin my fight with Jake into something appropriate for the press. “Heated on-ice rivalry,” they’re calling it like that makes it clean. It wasn’t clean. It was messy and personal, and he deserved every punch I threw. They can call it whatever they want, but I know people won’t buy it.

The manager’s pacing at the head of the room, laying it all out. There will be a couple more interviews, the usual PR bullshit about sportsmanship and competition. Coach is grumbling next to him about keeping my head in the game and off distractions. The worddistractionsmakes Ares throw a hard glance my way. I don’t have to guess what he’s thinking.

But he doesn’t say a damn thing, just leans back in his chair like he’s watching a chessboard unfold, silent until he’s ready to drop a bomb that leaves no survivors.

“Colton,” Coach snaps, his voice dragging me back. “You got it? No more stunts until the end of the season. Keep your nose clean.”

I give a quick nod, just enough to get him off my back. “Got it.”

He sighs, running a hand through his thinning hair. “And where the hell is DiMarco? He’s late for our meeting.”

The Panthers’ gym is buzzing with the usual grind. Players are stretching, lifting, and chatting, the high from the win still holding up. We’re not practicing today. The team is here for physicals, medicals, and some gym time.

The coaches are talking with the manager, toward sorting out the schedule, as they walk out of the gym toward the offices. My teammates are scattered around, working through their checks and getting their equipment inspected—just a normal day. Ares is at the far end, his eyes glued to his phone.

Now that I look around, I notice most of the guys’ noses are buried in their phones as they throw an occasional glance my way.

Why the hell are they looking at me?I catch the buzz in the air. The hushed whispers. The knowing glances.

I’ve got that restless feeling, the one that says something’s coming. I keep telling myself it’s nothing, just nerves, but it’s there. In my gut. The way it twists when you know you’re about to be hit with something you can’t dodge.

“Hey, Colton,” one of the rookies says, looking nervous. “Is it… true?”

“What?” I furrow my brows.

“Not that we’re judging, man,” one of our defensemen says, shaking his head. “We’re just a bit surprised.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snap, but before he can answer, I see Ares.

He’s staring down at his phone, his jaw tight. Ares isn’t one to get rattled, so when he’s focused like that, you know something’s off.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Before anyone can answer me, the door slams open, and in walks Rowan, very late and very angry.

Oh, no. Fuck my fucking life.

The room goes quiet. Teammates start whispering, heads turning.

“Uh-oh,” one of the rookies says. “Guess the captain didn’t know about it either.”

I’m past wondering what they’re talking about. The look on Rowan’s face says it all. He knows.

Things are about to get fucking ugly.

“Ooooh,” Lance mutters, eyes flicking from me to Rowan.

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