Page 108 of Blindside Me
“You’re spiraling,” Blake says quietly. “I can see it happening.”
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” He nudges my untouched whiskey glass farther away. “You need to talk to her, man.”
“I just…” My eyes drift back to the door. “I don’t even know what to say if she walks in right now.Sorry, I showed you exactly what you’re getting into if you’re with me.Or more appropriately,Sorry, I’m exactly who you should be running from.”
Blake doesn’t flinch. “How aboutI care about you enough to risk everything?”
I freeze.
“Seems like a decent place to start,” he adds.
I stare at him, momentarily speechless. Here I only thought Jade was the only one ever to see. Am I made of fucking glass? Fuck.
“She gave you a chance,” he says. “That’s more than most guys get with her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs. “Amanda says Jade’s reserved and doesn’t do relationships. Her ex was the only boyfriend she ever had. Something about her mom bailing on her a lot when she was a kid. She doesn’t trust easily.”
The irony slices deep. Here I am, trying to protect her from me, and I’m doing exactly what she feared most—leaving when things get hard.
My breathing turns shallow. My vision tunnels. The noise in the bar goes fuzzy around the edges.
I should text her. Call her. Something. But every time I try to form words, all I can see is my fist connecting with Roman’s face. The savage satisfaction I felt. The complete loss of control.
The bastard’s words echo:She was damaged goods before I got hold of her.
But the truth is, I’m the one who’s wrecked, and tonight proved it.
Someone jostles my elbow, spilling beer onto my sleeve. I don’t even flinch. The cold liquid seeps through to my skin, but I barely feel it.
“You’ve gotta snap out of this, man,” Blake says. “The team needs you focused.”
“The team might not have me for the rest of the season.” My voice comes out flat.
“Coach won’t let that happen. Not with scouts coming to watch the games.”
I almost laugh. Blake thinks this is about hockey. About my career. Like that’s the thing keeping me up at night.
The neon beer sign above the bar casts harsh blue shadows across my hands. I flex my fingers, watching the light play across the broken skin of my knuckles. The physical pain is nothing compared to the vise grip around my chest.
“Have you even looked at her messages?” Blake prods.
I turn my phone over, revealing the screen with Jade’s texts still displayed. Blake reads them, his eyebrows rising slightly.
“She’s not running,” he says. “So why are you?”
The question hangs there, unanswerable because I’m afraid. I’ve seen what happens when Klaas men love something. They destroy it. They can’t help themselves.
Maybe I didn’t just lose my spot on the team. Maybe I lost her. And if I did, that’s on me. Not Beaulier. Not Coach. Me.
The thought slices clean through whatever’s left of my focus. Because this spiral? This silence? This pushing her away before she can leave? It’s not protecting her. It’s proving her worst fear true.
My breathing becomes shallow, each inhale catching halfway. The walls of Barton’s press closer. Bodies shift and move around me in a blur of color and sound. Someone’s perfume—vanilla and something floral—triggers a memory ofJade’s hair spread across the pillow. The way she looked up at me that night, uncertain but trusting.
I don’t deserve that trust. Never did.
