"I know, and I didn't respect that. I'm sorry."

"Please stop saying that," I beg and his arms come tighter around me, his lips at my brow.

"I can't help it. I just don't want to lose you," he whispers, and everything inside me stops. I've wanted someone to say that to me my whole life, and he just did. But I can't enjoy it like I want to because I've f.u.c.ked this all up. I have to let this go. I have to before I have an anxiety attack and then really let my freak flag fly. I think he feels that I am about to lose it, because his arms gather me closer, his forehead coming to mine as his breath mixes with mine.

I can taste the beer he drank, but that doesn't intoxicate me. No, it's the way his words are vibrating off him in waves. I can feel them deep inside me, all around me, and I love them. Soon, I hear nothing but the sound of my heart as it slows in my chest. I feel safe in his arms, and my anxiety is gone; guilt replacing it. I shouldn't have freaked out like this, and most of all, he shouldn't feel like it's his fault. I need to get it together.

And quick.

Before I lose him.

Sucking in another deep breath, I open my eyes to find him watching me, his thumb moving up and down my arm. "You okay?" he asks gently.

I nod. "Fine. I'm really sorry. Kind of freaked there.

He shakes his head. "It's fine. I got you."

He presses his lips against my nose before he lets me go to remove the condom, throwing it in the trash. When he comes back, I haven't moved because I'm still reeling from what he just said.

He's got me.

Wow.

Okay.

Before I can say anything or even move, he's wrapping me back up in his arms. Holding on to him, I press my head to his chest and listen to his heartbeat as I really think over what he just said. This guy, this man, took my crazy and went with it. He may ask questions, but he is more concerned with how I feel than satisfying his curiosity. He's got me. Meanwhile, I'm over here, holding back on him.

How is that fair?

"Jace?"

"Yeah?"

"What were you going to ask me at the bar?"

I feel him smile as his lips move along my cheek. "Wait till tomorrow, when I'm not so drunk."

"I want to know now."

He doesn't say anything for a long minute and I think he's fallen asleep, but then he whispers, "I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend. I don't want to wait anymore, and if you reject me, then I'll deal."

I knew that was it, which is why I asked now. "Really?"

"Yeah, but don't worry about that. We're good."

"No," I say, pulling back to look at him. "Ask me."

"What?" His eyes are full of disorientation, and I can feel his heart beating harder in his chest.

"Ask me to be your girlfriend."

Eyeing me, he looks uncertain as he asks, "What are you going to say?"

"Ask and find out," I challenge and his grin only grows.

"Don't reject me."

Shaking my head, I lean my head to his chin. "Just ask me."

Reaching up, he takes my face in his hands before tilting it up to look at me. He chews on his lip, his eyes searching mine as I wait. My heart has stopped, my next breath is nowhere to be found, and I can't wait much longer.

Thankfully, I don't have to before he whispers, "Avery Rose, will you be my girlfriend? Leave the Javery zone behind and be mine?"

As I cup his jaw, there is only one word I can say to him.

I feel it, deep in my soul, and I know that it is true.

"Yes."

Ugh. Why?

How is it already four in the morning?

f.u.c.k me.

My head is pounding.

I feel like I'm going to blow chunks, and I have to go serve coffee.

But I'd much rather stay here with her.

d.a.m.n it.

Nuzzling closer to Avery, I take in a deep inhale, the smell of her shampoo making me smile as my arms come around her waist, bringing her closer. Tucking her hands up underneath my chin, she murmurs something unintelligible and I just feel...complete. Whole, even. This girl, man...she really has me in all kinds of ways. I'm completely taken by her, and after last night, I know I should be ecstatic and feel on top of the world.

But I can't.

Not fully.

Mostly because I'm unsure about it all. I want to believe she was ready, that she wants this. But deep in my gut, I'm worried. Did she did just say that because of what happened when we were getting down? And what was that about? I don't understand her issues with the lights being on, but it would be great if she could let me in on that. I mean, I know I need to respect her wishes, and I will-that's not the problem. I just wish I knew why.

I feel like everything is up in the air because of it, and it's f.u.c.king with me.

Add in the fact I'm hungover and got no sleep last night, and I'm pretty sure today is going to suck.

Which is bad because it's the practice before our game and Coach won't go easy on us. Tomorrow's skate will be laid-back, but today, he'll be drilling us. I kind of regret taking this job at the coffee shop. Maybe I should just chill and let my dad do everything. I mean, it could be so easy. Don't I, as a nineteen-year-old, get that right? I'm still a kid, aren't I? s.h.i.t, but I know that isn't right. If I want to be a man like my brothers, I have to follow in their footsteps. They worked for what they wanted. Well, Jude really didn't have to, but he is now. s.h.i.t, that reminds me. I gotta call Jude and Jayden.

Well, f.u.c.k me.

As I kiss Avery's head, she snuggles against my lips and I smile. "Baby, I gotta go."

"Why?" she whispers, her eyes still closed.

"Gotta work and practice. But stay here, sleep until you need to leave."

"Okay, thanks," she says before puckering her lips. She's so d.a.m.n cute, and man, I hope she really means what she said last night. That she does want me as her boyfriend. That leaving Javery in the dust is something she is dying for too.

That maybe she loves me.

s.h.i.t, why did I think that!

I don't even love her...

Ugh.

Unaware of my internal battle, she leans toward me and presses her lips to mine. Kissing her is really what I'm starting to believe is my purpose in life. It's just so natural, like our lips were made to press together and be one. Even sleepy kisses are my favorite. h.e.l.l, anything she does is my favorite.

Moving my nose along hers, I say, "Text me when you wake up."

"'kay," she says. I drink her in for another moment as my heart prays she isn't going to break me. Because, if she wakes up and realizes she made a mistake last night, I just might lose it. I'm ready for this, and I need her to be too. It's time. Yeah, it's only been two weeks, but it's been intense and we have basically been in a committed relationship. She just doesn't want to label it. Annoying as h.e.l.l, but hopefully that has changed. We may have been drunk, but I remember everything that happened last night and I hope she does too.

Pushing the blankets off me, I sit up and glance back at her once more. She looks so peaceful, so sweet lying there, her hair a mess along my pillow, her lips parted, and her lashes kissing her cheeks. Along her neck are red spots from our lovemaking last night, and while I hate that I blemished her gorgeous skin, they give me a certain kind of rush.

She's mine.

And everyone will see that.

Pulling my gaze from her, I go to get off the bed, but I pause when little, straight lines on her thighs catch my gaze. There have to be hundreds of them, dark ones, thick ones, faded ones. Like cuts. I don't know how they could have happened because of the way they're shaped, and they aren't marks made by st.i.tches. Only thin cuts, long ones too. They had to be made with a knife or something. They're just odd. When she moves her legs, rolling over, I look away to get down from the bed, my heart causing havoc in my chest.

When my feet hit the floor, I'm unable to breathe.

I'm pretty sure that's why she doesn't like the lights on when we have s.e.x.

Which means she's embarra.s.sed by them.

Swallowing hard, I don't want to think it, but...

No. She couldn't have done that to herself.

Could she?

For the rest of the morning, I can't stop thinking about what I saw.

Work is a blur, and when I hit the ice, I feel like I'm not even there.

That is until Bryan, our big defender, takes me into the boards.

With an umpff, I come off the boards, falling to my knees before getting back up and chasing the puck. It was my fault I got hit like that. I had my head down because I was too busy thinking about Avery. Dumb-a.s.s mistake. Digging in, I make it to the other end within seconds-the joys of being the fastest skater on the team-and block a shot before controlling the puck with my stick. Looking up, I see Markus hauling a.s.s up the middle, and I send the puck quick to him. With ease, he goes five-hole, scoring.

That should have been me. Instead, I was too caught up on what I saw. I've gone through every single scenario I could. She was attacked by a beaver or a racc.o.o.n? Or maybe a cat! But why between her thighs? Then I think maybe she was raped. But that doesn't feel right because, if that were the case, I wouldn't think she would be so into s.e.x now. Baylor was almost raped earlier this year, and she didn't have s.e.x with Jayden for months; she even had to go to counseling for it. But maybe Avery has gone to counseling, and it happened a long time ago? But what did the sicko do? Cut her up?

It just doesn't make sense, and it's driving me mad.

I go to back to the end of the line, and Markus meets me there, tapping my shin with his stick. "Great pa.s.s."

I nod. "Great shot."

He grins at me, but I don't return it. I want this to be over so I can go find her. But what am I going to say? Do I just ask her? Will she shut down on me or freak out? f.u.c.k, it's driving me bats.h.i.t and also scaring the s.h.i.t out of me.

"What's got you all messed up? Since you locked me out of my room, I'm sure you got laid. You shouldn't be looking like I just took your spot in the draft."

I snort. "Please. Won't happen."

Markus laughs. "Just sayin'. You look like s.h.i.t."

"Hungover."

"No, that's not it." I feel him eyeing me. I don't know how to tell him this, though. Or if I should. It's no one's business, not even mine, but I saw it and I don't know what to do. I need someone to guide me, but I don't want him knowing that about Avery. Whatever it is.

"What's up? She break up with you? Or, wait, un-Javery you? Stupid s.h.i.t."

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. "No, we're together now. No more Javery."

"Thank G.o.d," he moans. "That s.h.i.t was wack."

I smile as I watch the next play go. We are cleaning up our game, and I really think we have a chance at the cup this year. We are playing some major teams this year since we moved up into the Big Ten, but I'm ready. I may be nervous, but I'm confident in my team. We've got this.

If I can get my head out of my a.s.s and focus.

"Sinclair, I blew the whistle twice!" Coach yells and I look over at him, confused.

"Sorry," I say as he blows it again and then sends the puck over to me. Taking it, I carry it up, Markus right beside me as we cross the blue line and Gordon digs in to crash the net. Going in with him, I pa.s.s it to Markus, who sends it back to Drake. He shoots it, hard, and it whizzes by, hitting Trevor, our goalie, in the chest before rebounding onto Gordon's stick. He shoots, but it hits the crossbar, coming back to me just as I skate up. Taking it, I pa.s.s the puck behind me since I don't have the shot. But I know Markus does, and it sails right over Trevor's shoulder.

"Great job!" Coach yells out as I hit my glove to Markus's. "Okay, everyone. Laps."

Some groan, but I honestly need to clear my head, and I take the laps as a blessing. As I drift across the ice, I still can't shake the feeling she only said she wanted to be my girlfriend to keep me from seeing what she was hiding. And that makes me mad. But then, what reasons do I have for that? Am I just jumping to conclusions because I'm confused and worried? How is that helping anything? I need to talk to her, but something about that makes me nervous. She is locked so tight about everything, what will happen if I pry?

Will she call it off?

f.u.c.k, I don't want that.

But I can't sit here with this dread in my stomach, hoping she is okay. She always says I won't understand. And yeah, I don't understand how she could hurt herself. But if she explained it, maybe I could. Man, what the h.e.l.l is going on? I just feel sick, and it isn't from the night of drinking. It's from being worried sick about her. I don't want her to hurt.

Digging in, I finish my laps quickly, wanting to get off the ice to shower. I'm the first one done, and while I'm anxious to escape the ice, I know I can't. I have to push my team, and soon I'm skating with our slowest lapper, Drake.

"You can go, bro," he says like he always does, but I shake my head.

"Nope, I'm with you to win it."