Page 25 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

Then he walks away.

8

THEO

Practice should start any minute, but Coach is taking his sweet time today, giving the rest of the team way too much free time to talk to Blake for my liking. You’d think she’s a shiny new toy by the way the team is surrounding her next to the bench along the side boards, but I keep my head down, forcing myself to ignore them. It doesn’t block out her light laugh, though, or the way her freckled skin heats anytime Burrows skates toward her.

Fucking Burrows.

I actually like the asshole, which only makes it worse. He’s a decent guy most of the time and doesn’t sample the puck bunnies quite as often as the rest of us. Well, the rest of the team, anyway.

After being fucked up enough to kiss Blake at my place a couple months ago, it felt weird to touch anyone else. Wrong, maybe. Which is messed up on a whole other level since it’s not like I plan on making the mistake of touching Blake again.

Especially after the locker room incident.

My dick twitches at the memory, but I push the thought aside.

I’ve fantasized about the moment for days. What she looked like. The way her breath hitched and her lips parted as I leaned closer to her. What I wish I could’ve done––and would have––if she were any other girl but my best friend’s little sister.

Russ calls for Blake from the arch leading to the locker room, and she waves goodbye to the team, heading down the tunnel and out of sight.

The rest of the guys watch her leave as Depp says something to Graves, but I’m too far away to hear what he’s said. The bastard laughs as I skate toward them, braking at the last second until a plume of icy mist blankets their calves and skates.

Depp looks down at the slush on his legs, then cocks his head. “There a problem, Theo?”

“You guys need to stay away from her.”

Tukani laughs, his elbows on his knees and ass still resting next to the spot Blake had been sitting. “Come on, man. We were just talking––”

“So, you don’t want to get in her pants?” I argue, my attention shifting from one asshole teammate to the next.

Austin, who’d been sitting on Tukani’s opposite side, stands up and rests his hip against the partition separating the ice from the bench. “Coach didn’t say she was off-limits.”

“It’s Colt’s little sister.”

“Yeah, we know,” Depp reminds me, fiddling with his glove. “And he doesn’t have a problem with us talking to her, either.”

“‘Cause he’s too busy hanging out with Ash to see you guys fuck anything with two legs on the weekends,” I counter.

“We’re just talking to her,” Graves argues. Logan adds, “Why’s a stick up your ass, man?”

My brows raise in surprise as I turn to him, throttling my hockey stick while attempting to keep my temper in check. Logan and I have been on shaky ground ever since Ash broke up with him and started dating Colt. Afterward, Logan decided to shove her nose in a bunch of shit in hopes of breaking them up. Unfortunately, it backfired. Colt decked Logan for being a dick, and I politely asked him to move out of the Taylor House, despite us being roommates and best friends since we were kids. I’m not one to pick sides––I’ve never been one to pick sides––but after the shit Logan pulled, I had no choice. It seemed like the perfect time to clean house, so I told Shorty and Graves to find a new place to live too.

It was the best decision, even though it made things a little more tense on the ice and in the locker room. But overall, it needed to be done, and I’m not the only one who knows it. However, unless it’s hockey related, Logan and I haven’t spoken since. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised he’s being a dick about this, though, especially since it involves a Thorne.

“I don’t have a stick up my ass,” I answer. I keep my tone light, but my muscles are tight and begging for a fight. “I just think she deserves a little more respect––”

“You like her or something, Taylor?” Burrows interjects, skating toward us from the opposite side of the rink.

My molars grind together, then I clear my throat. “She’s not some puck bunny.”

“Never said she was,” Burrows returns. “Doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to talk to her.”

“Fine. You can talk. But as your captain, I expect all of you to keep your junk covered when she’s around from now on, including in the locker room. We clear?”

Tukani laughs as Depp points out, “Dude, it’s a men’s locker room. We gotta get dressed somewhere.”

Graves adds, “And it’s not like she hasn’t seen a dick before. She isn’t the Virgin Mary or some shit.”

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