Page 90 of Full Tilt
“How about you mind your own business?” I tell all four of them, centering my attention mainly on Jack and Archer.
Sawyer shifts closer to me, placing a palm on my shoulder.
I fight the urge to shrug it off and cross my arms instead.
“Just ignore these three.” He thumbs to his teammates. “They’ll do anything to get under a guy’s skin.”
“That’s what she said.” Archer snickers, causing Emmett and Jack to fall about laughing.
On a raised brow, I look between them, quietly waiting for them to get it the fuck together.
“You act like you’re a virgin who just got out of college,” I tell Jack when he finally stops laughing. “Hardly captain behavior.”
At this point, I’m out to rile him up. Jack Morgan is captaincy material through and through, and we all know it. Even if I don’t want to admit it out loud.
I tip my chin at Archer. “And you need my ass for shutouts, so how about showing me a little respect?”
He scoffs at that. “Respect? You haven’t shown an ounce of that since you got traded here last season.”
Emmett hums his agreement, and I throw him a look.
Respect.
Something I failed to show Jenna when I snuck out of her apartment at five a.m.
I know I’ve fucked up. Big time.
When Jenna fell asleep in the early hours, I desperately wanted to stay with her, wake up, and then take her for breakfast at Rise Up—the café where we randomly bumped into each other that time. That’s what I should’ve done, and I know it. Instead, I freaked the fuck out and snuck out of her bed, grabbing my clothes, phone, wallet, and keys on the way.
And when she called me and I listened to her voicemail? I didn’t know what to say. She’s right; it was a shitty move. But something tells me that my inner fear of getting close to another human being isn’t going to wash with her.
Jenna deserves a man who will go all in, with zero fear of getting hurt. She doesn’t want or need a guy who can’t push past his own rejection issues and tell her what he truly wants. I promised that I’d prove myself to her, and I’ve gone ahead and done exactly that.
I’m an asshole who knows that he doesn’t deserve her.
My teammates might be pointing to the scratches she left on my back, but in truth, they could never see her deepest marks.
I’ve got feelings for Jenna Miller. And I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do with them.
Archer is still waiting on my response when I turn back to my bench and continue getting ready for practice. I’m done with games and trying to gain the upper hand in verbal duals.
It’s fucking exhausting.
“Tommy …” Sawyer’s calming voice filters over my shoulder.
I can sense he’s standing directly behind me, although I ignore him.
“Slow down, buddy. You’re going to damage something, ripping at your pads like that.” He rests another palm on my shoulder, trying to steady my temper as I continue getting ready.
He probably thinks I’m mad at my teammates. He’s wrong. I’m only mad at myself.
“They weren’t trying to humiliate you.” Sawyer continues talking.
On a deep exhale, I spin around to face him, half dressed for practice. “I couldn’t care less what they think,” I lie, taking another metaphorical punch to the gut in the process. I told Jenna who I cared about, and that definitely included my teammates.
Sawyer’s brows knit together; he’s not buying a word of what I say.
I cast a quick glance around the locker room, which is slowly emptying as the guys head out to the ice.
