Page 39 of Blindside Me
I groan. “Fine. Maybe I like him a little. Microscopic levels. Basically subatomic.”
“Your sketchbook has his eyebrows memorized, Jade.”
I grab her pillow and smack her with it. She yelps, laughing as she tries to shield herself.
“Those are just good eyebrows! They’re very … architectural.” I can’t help but laugh, too, the tension finally breaking.
Callie recovers, hugging the pillow to her chest. Her expression shifts to something more serious. “You know, sometimes the people around you see the truth before you’re ready to admit it.”
My smile fades. “I don’t need anyone. I’m fine on my own.”
“You keep saying that like you believe it.” Her voice is gentle, not accusing, which somehow makes it worse.
I go quiet, eyes drifting to the vision board taped above my desk. A collage of magazine cutouts and watercolor paintings. In my own handwriting across the center: “Build your own safe haven.” My uncle never meant to leave me behind, but here I am anyway. Another person who walked away when something better came along.
“I just don’t want you to shut me out,” Callie says, breaking into my thoughts. “Or yourself. It’s okay to want things, Jade. Even if they’re complicated and might hurt.”
“I know.” I don’t, not really, but it’s easier than explaining how terrifying it is to want something I’m not sure I can keep. How much safer it is to push people away before they decide to leave. “I tried that once.”
“Sorry Roman was a dick. But not everyone will be manipulative like him.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. My uncle would throw a fit if any of his hockey gods came near me.”
She frowns and then holds out her pinky. “Promise you won’t ghost me when things get real? Friend code.”
I link my pinky with hers, a childish gesture that somehow feels more binding than any oath. “Promise.”
For a moment, I let myself feel the weight of being known, of someone seeing past my carefully built walls. It’s terrifying. It’s also, maybe, a little bit like coming home.
“But just so we’re clear,” I add, pulling my hand back, “if you tell Drew about the sketchbook, I will absolutely murder you in your sleep.”
Callie grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides,”—she tosses me another Sour Patch Kid— “watching you two orbit each other without crashing is way more entertaining.”
I catch the candy and pop it in my mouth, the sour-then-sweet taste mirroring the mess of emotions I’m not ready to name. Not yet. But maybe soon.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Drew
The locker room is nearly empty, with most guys showered and gone by now. Thank fuck. The last thing I want to do is talk to people. Practice was a shitshow. I missed a read on their forward, and let a puck slip through on a breakout. Coach’s glare burned worse than the sprints he made me run after. This happening on Fan Appreciation Day makes it worse. More people watching, more chances to notice how far off my game is.
I’m zipping my gear bag when my phone buzzes. Dad’s name lights up the screen. Fuck. I could let it go to voicemail, but he’ll just call again, angrier. I step into the hallway’s dim light and answer.
“Hey, Dad,” I mutter, already bracing.
“Watched the practice feed,” he starts, no hello, no warmth. “That breakout in the third? You froze. Left a gap their guy could’ve driven a truck through. What the hell was that?”
My jaw clenches, teeth grinding. I forgot they live-streamed practice during this day. “It was one play. I recovered.”
“Didn’t look like it.” He pauses, and I can hear the disappointment. “Jake used to choke like that. Got cocky, lost focus, and tanked his shot. You know that.”
My fingers crush the phone, plastic groaning. Jade’s face flashes in my mind, her smirk in class, challenging me to keep up. I shove the thought down. She’s a distraction, a risk I can’t take. “I’m not Jake,” I snap, but my voice shakes, betraying the fear crawling up my spine.
Silence, thick and heavy. Then, his voice grows colder. “You’re my last chance, Drew. Don’t throw it away like he did.”
The call cuts off. I stare at the dark screen, my reflection warped in the glass—Jake’s jawline, his eyes, staring back like a ghost. Jade’s laugh echoes in my mind, and I wonder if no distractions means losing something I’m not ready to let go. My fist twitches, begging to smash something, but I jam the phone in my pocket instead. The weight of his words presses down, heavier than the gear slung over my shoulder, as I head toward the exit.
I need to get things under control before teammates start noticing. I snapped at Country when he asked if I was okay, telling him to mind his own game. Total dick move. I’ll apologize tomorrow. Maybe.
