28. Michael

28

Michael

I woke up to the stillness of the pre-dawn hours, my body humming with a restless energy. The first thought that crossed my mind was Addison, her body soft and warm next to mine. I could feel my cock twitching at the mere thought of being inside her again, of losing myself in her warmth.

But I held back.

Last night had been intense, and I knew she needed time to recover. I watched her sleep, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The moonlight streaming through the window cast a soft glow on her face, highlighting the faint freckles scattered across her nose. My gaze traveled down to her inner thighs, where dried traces of my come marked her skin. Fuck, she was beautiful.

And she was mine.

A possessive growl rumbled in my chest as I thought about Eren, about how he'd tried to claim her as his own. But it was me she'd chosen, me she'd given herself to.

Slipping out of bed, I made my way to the bathroom, my thoughts racing. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my head. I had more energy than I expected, but I needed to be cool and calm before finishing this. I decided to go for a run, hoping the physical exertion would help me focus.

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, I headed out into the crisp February morning. The streets were deserted, the world still asleep. I ran faster, pushing myself harder, my muscles burning with the effort. But it was a good kind of pain, one that helped me feel alive.

As I ran, I thought about Addison, about the way she'd looked at me last night, her eyes filled with trust and desire. I knew I had to protect her, had to keep her safe from anyone who might try to hurt her. And that included Eren and the threat he was to our union.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I couldn't let him near her, couldn't let him touch her. I knew I had to do something, had to find a way to make him back off.

But for now, all I could do was run.

I returned from my run, my body thrumming with adrenaline. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the quiet streets. I slipped back into the house, careful not to wake Addison.

In the kitchen, I started a pot of coffee, knowing she'd appreciate the gesture when she woke up. The rich aroma filled the air as the dark liquid dripped into the carafe. I left it brewing, a silent offering for when she'd rise.

I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to take care of this now.

I grabbed my keys and slid into my car, the leather seat cool against my back. The engine roared to life as I turned the key, and I felt a surge of determination course through my veins.

I pulled out of the driveway, my mind focused on one thing.

The streets were still empty as I drove, the only sound the hum of the engine and the whisper of the tires on the pavement. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white with the force of my grip.

As I neared the campus, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. I knew what I had to do, and I was ready to do it. I parked the car and stepped out, the cool morning air hitting my face.

With purposeful strides, I made my way towards his dorm, my nerves steady.

I reached his door and knocked; the sound echoing in the empty hallway. I waited, my body tense with anticipation.

The door swung open, and there he was, his hair tousled from sleep, his eyes bleary with confusion. "Michael? What the hell are you doing here?"

I pushed past him, stepping into his room. "We need to talk."

I headed to hockey practice, my mind still reeling from the events of the morning. As I changed into my warmups, I overheard Damien Sinclaire murmuring to some of the other guys.

"…heard Freya got back with Dan," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "At least, people saw them together, and by together, I mean?—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Henry pushed Damien into the locker, his eyes flashing with anger. "Shut the fuck up, Sinclaire," he growled, his voice dangerously low.

Damien smirked, seemingly unfazed by Henry's aggression. "Just wondering when you're going to make an honest woman out of her," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "She's been getting around with him, hasn't she?"

Henry's jaw clenched, and I could see the muscles in his neck tightening. "Yeah, and now that Sawyer Wolfe is married, I'm wondering when you're going to fuck around with the dean's daughter?—"

The words had barely left Henry's mouth when Damien's fist connected with his face. The sound of the punch echoed through the locker room, and everyone froze, shocked by the sudden outburst.

I'd never seen Damien angry before. Sure, he was a chaotic asshole most of the time, but this was different. There was a fury in his eyes that I'd never witnessed, and it was unsettling.

The tension in the room was palpable as Damien and Henry stared each other down, both breathing heavily. I stepped forward, ready to intervene if necessary, but before I could do anything, Morgan's voice boomed through the locker room.

"What the hell is going on in here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him.

Coach Morgan walked into the locker room, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the scene before him. "All right, cut the bullshit," he barked, his voice cutting through the tension. "I don't care what personal crap you have going on, but it stays off the ice. Got it?"

He didn't wait for a response before continuing. "Now, let's talk about practice. We're going to start with some drills — passing, shooting, the basics. Then we're going to run some plays, focusing on our offensive strategies. I want to see crisp passes, hard shots, and everyone working together like a well-oiled machine. And don't even get me started on the penalty-kill. Special teams has to step their game way the fuck up or we're going to be laughed out of our own goddamn barn."

Coach Morgan paused, his gaze sweeping over the team. "Last night's game was a win, but it was sloppy. We got lucky, but luck won't carry us through the playoffs. Windsor, your passes were off. Carter, you need to be quicker on the transitions. Sinclaire, I want to see more aggression from you on the ice."

He went on, calling out each player's weaknesses and areas for improvement. It was a harsh critique, but we all knew it was necessary. We had clinched a playoff spot, but that didn't mean we could relax. If anything, it meant we had to work harder.

"No more fucking around," Coach Morgan said, his tone serious. "We're in the playoffs now, and every game counts. I want to see 110% from each and every one of you, starting with practice today."

He looked around the room, his brow furrowing. "Where the hell is Torrance?" he asked, noticing Eren's absence.

The locker room was silent. No one seemed to have an answer.

"Carter," he said, his voice gruff. "You're his friend. Where is he?"

I shrugged, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on me. "I haven't seen him since the game last night," I said.

Coach Morgan's jaw tightened, but he didn't press further. "All right, let's hit the ice," he said, clapping his hands. "I want to see everyone out there in two minutes."

As the team started to file out of the locker room, I let a smile slowly slide across my face.

Where was Eren?

Taken care of.