31. Sawyer

Chapter 31

Sawyer

Coach Dunaway’s whistle and shouts pierce the air as he calls out our drills, but all I hear is Violet’s voice in my head, cheering from the imaginary crowd that’s filling the stands. I’m still riding high from the amazing game we had against the Knights, and a big part of that has to do with seeing Violet in my jersey.

I can’t get the image out of my head, and every time it comes to mind, a beaming smile is right behind. For fuck’s sake, the corners of my mouth are hurting from all the smiling I’ve been doing since then, but I feel like I’m on cloud fucking nine.

Even though it should be impossible with all the noise from the crowd and the chaos on the ice, I swear every time she comes to one of our games I can pick her voice out from all the rest of the noise. I feel it when she screams my name.

And I fucking love it.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone regularly in the stands to cheer for me. My mother died before I went pro, and I’ve never been close enough with my dad for him to show up. Miriam was never very supportive of my career, even early on, and that only got worse over time. All she ever seemed to care about was the money and prestige being attached to a hockey player brought her—but she couldn’t be bothered to come to the games that made all of that money and prestige possible.

But now? Every time I look up, there’s Violet beaming in the crowd like a ray of sunshine. She hasn’t missed a single one of my home games, and she’s brought Jake to as many of them as she could. None of that was part of our agreement, and it wasn’t even a quiet expectation or anything. She just fell right into it.

I keep trying to convince myself that it’s just because she already has a connection to the team. I mean, she’s Reese’s sister, so it’s not like it’s totally out of the blue for her to be interested in hockey. I’m sure she grew up around it, and she seems legitimately interested in the team and how we’re doing. She’s not just putting on a show for Jake and me.

And that’s exactly what made seeing the two of them in the stands the other night wearing matching copies of my jersey so impactful. I can’t really put into words how or why it affected me so much, but it damn sure did because I can’t stop thinking about it.

I can’t stop thinking about her .

The truth is, the whole thing is a little hypocritical because I used to cringe at players who asked girls to wear their jerseys. I always thought it was a little immature, especially for someone at the pro level. So it surprised me that after we started sleeping together, I couldn’t shake the idea of how much of a turn on it would be to see Violet wearing mine.

And I was right. Seeing her in it was hot as hell.

But it was more than that. Seeing her wearing my number? My name? It hit me in a place I didn’t expect, making a possessive sort of pride well up in my chest. Call me a hypocrite all you want, but I get now why guys do it.

True to my word, I took her home that night and fucked her in nothing but my jersey, just like I promised I would. Hungry to check another item off her bucket list, I used pieces of soft silk fabric to tie her to the bed, spreading her out like a feast with her blonde hair cascading over the pillow and her legs spread wide for me.

Seeing her lying there with nothing but my jersey on, her pussy already wet for me and her hazel eyes dark with desire, unleashed a beast inside me.

I fucked her three times, made her come at least eight times, and I would’ve gone again but we were both so spent that we passed out in a heap together.

I’m fucking obsessed with her. She fills my thoughts all day, every day. No matter what I’m doing or where I am, something about it will remind me of her—and then my brain is off and running with a highlight reel of all the ways she drives me crazy.

Dunaway’s whistle screeches, jerking me out of my thoughts, and I realize that he’s called an end to practice for the day. Most of my teammates are already streaming off the ice toward the locker rooms, but I was so off in my own world that I’m on the other side of the rink. I rush to catch up with them, mentally chastising myself, and Noah is waiting for me as I join them.

“There’s the long-lost defenseman. You were off in space today, Townsend. Everything okay?” he asks, clapping a gloved hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine, I’ve just got a lot on my mind with this house hunt and planning the move and everything,” I cover quickly.

It’s not at all what I’ve been thinking about, but the lie must be believable, because Noah nods and huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s a big deal. I don’t blame you for being focused on it. But keep your focus on the ice too, yeah?” He keeps his arm draped around my shoulder as we make our way to the locker room, then glances at me, narrowing his eyes a bit. “You sure that’s all that’s on your mind?”

“Everything’s good. Really good, actually.” This is probably the best I’ve felt in years, to be honest, but I don’t want to lay it on too thick and invite more questions that I can’t answer truthfully, so I just plaster on the most convincing smile I can.

Noah grips my arm and steps back. “Good. Glad to hear it. Today’s practice aside, you’ve been on fire lately—so whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”

I nod vaguely, although I’m not sure he’d be saying that if he knew what had me so distracted today.

There’s a boisterous, loud energy in the locker room as our teammates banter, everyone peeling off their gear and getting ready to hit the showers.

“How’s the wedding planning going, man?” Reese asks Noah, and I glance at our team captain curiously. I’ve been so wrapped up in this thing with Violet that I completely forgot he and Margo are planning to get married this summer.

Noah shrugs and yanks his jersey over his head, then removes his pads. “Well, you know how it goes. There are a million moving pieces and a bunch of last-minute decisions that have to get made. But as long as Margo loves it, I’ll be happy.”

“Still can’t believe you’re getting married,” Theo says, smirking. “Kinda seems like we’re all getting domesticated lately.” He shoots Grant and me a look. “Well, most of us anyway.”

Our teammates all chuckle at his joke, and I clear my throat and laugh along, trying to hide my reaction to his words. I don’t know if I’d call whatever I have going on with Violet “getting domesticated,” but it feels dangerously close—and so does the whole team finding out about it. Maybe Violet was right about how reckless it was to ask her to wear my jersey instead of Reese’s the other night, but so far Reese is the only one who’s said anything about it, so I try to shake it off.

There’s a dip in the conversation, so I take my chance to hit the shower before anyone else can hit me with uncomfortable questions. When I’m done, I throw on some fresh clothes and check my phone.

My heart skips a beat when I see that there’s a missed call from Jake’s school.

“Shit,” I mutter and quickly tap into the phone app to listen to the voicemail the school left.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Townsend, this is Principal Chapman.” Jake’s principal’s smooth, calm voice plays in my ear. “Jake said you’re at practice, so I’m sorry to bother you, but he got into a fight this morning with one of the other students, and we think it’s best to send him home for the day. Could you please give us a call back as soon as you get this? Thanks.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and stare down at it, unable to believe what I just heard. What the hell? Jake has never gotten into any kind of trouble before. He’s one of the sweetest kids I’ve ever known, and he gets upset when I have to kill bugs in the house.

I throw my bag over my shoulder, nodding a quick goodbye to my teammates as I make a beeline out of the building and head for my car. Agitation brews under my skin as I drive to Jake’s school, questions bouncing around in my head as I do my best not to speed down the streets.

When I reach the elementary school, I park in the guest lot and slam my car door shut, striding quickly toward the front door. There’s a member of the school’s staff stationed at the front desk, and when I tell her I got a call from Principal Chapman, she directs me toward his office.

I stride down the hallway, taking several deep breaths to try to get a hold on my emotions before I deal with Jake’s principal—but as I approach his office, I hear a familiar voice.

Violet .

They must’ve called her too, since she’s listed as Jake’s caretaker, and she got here before me.

“No,” she says, and I blink, brought up short by the forceful tone of her voice. I’ve never heard her sound quite like that before. I pause, listening, as she adds, “If Jake says he didn’t do it, I believe him.”

“Ms. Sutton.” Principal Chapman’s voice is low and patient. “I understand it’s upsetting, but there have to be consequences for this kind of behavior. Since this was Jake’s first incident, there won’t be any?—”

“It wasn’t his first incident .” There’s steel in Violet’s voice, a protective edge that makes something swell in my chest. I take a step closer to the door, catching sight of her as she sits across from Principal Chapman’s desk with Jake in a chair at her side. “He would never hit another child, I’m telling you.”

“Well, we?—”

“Did you see it happen?” she presses. “Were you there?”

Principal Chapman exhales, puffing out his cheeks. “No, but another student reported that?—”

“And what did Jake say happened?”

Chapman blinks. “I didn’t?—”

“You didn’t ask him?”

Even though I can only see her in profile, there’s no missing the way Violet’s lips press together. Then she turns to Jake, her expression softening as she rests a hand on his shoulder.

“Buddy, can you tell me what was going on? What happened? Was there a fight?”

My son hesitates, drawing in a shaky breath. His cheeks are red, his hair a bit mussed. After a second, he nods.

The gentle expression on Violet’s face doesn’t waver. She drops her head a bit, meeting his gaze as she asks, “Did you hit anyone?”

He swallows, then shakes his head again. “No, but… it’s my fault.”

She gives his shoulder a squeeze. “What do you mean? Why?”

Jake wipes at his nose, sniffling. “Simon and Cody were fighting. I tried to get them to stop. I was pulling Cody away, but then we all got tangled up, and Cody hit Simon anyway.”

Violet smiles softly, brushing Jake’s hair away from his face, and the tenderness of the gesture makes something in my heart ache. Then she turns back to Principal Chapman, giving him a pointed look.

“Would you like to explain to me now why Jake is the one in trouble for fighting?” she asks, her tone clipped.

The principal blusters a little, obviously a bit taken aback. “Well, I’ll have to verify that story with the other students. His teacher didn’t see the incident start, but when she turned around, Jake had his hands balled into fists, and Simon had a mark on his cheek. So she just assumed?—”

“I think that was your first mistake,” Violet says coolly, cutting him off. “I’m sure this is a good school, because Sawyer wouldn’t choose anything else for Jake, but none of that matters if you don’t listen to your students. If you don’t talk to them.”

A smile pulls at my lips, fierce pride filling me as I listen to her calmly and quietly read Principal Chapman the riot act.

That’s right, baby. Give him hell .

“I’m sorry, Ms. Sutton,” Chapman says, clearing his throat. “I?—”

I step forward before he can finish speaking, striding into the room. He looks up, and I don’t miss the look of embarrassment that flashes through his eyes. Maybe he was hoping I wouldn’t show up, now that it’s clear he falsely accused my son of starting a fight that he was in fact trying to end.

“Mr. Townsend,” the principal says, rising from his chair as he greets me. “We were just discussing the incident that Jake was involved in.”

“I heard,” I say, coming to stand behind Jake. I rest a hand on his head, and he looks up at me with sweet, hopeful eyes. “And I heard enough to make it clear that Jake wasn’t actually the instigator of any of it, is that correct?”

Principal Chapman grimaces. “It may be that we misread the situation. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go have a talk with Jake’s teacher and the other student and get to the bottom of this.”

He leaves the room, and Violet turns to look up at me.

“I’m sorry,” she says, almost like she thinks I’ll be upset at her. “I should’ve waited until you got here and let you take care of it. I just couldn’t stand him saying that about Jake.”

I smile, that feeling of pride blazing through my chest again. “I think you handled it just fine,” I tell her, holding her gaze.

Her shoulders relax as something unspoken passes between us. I pick Jake up and then settle into the chair he was occupying with him on my lap, and Principal Chapman returns after several long minutes.

It turns out that Jake’s version of events was true, and although I’m not surprised to hear it, I feel a rush of relief as more details of the incident emerge. It’s clear that although he was in the middle of the fight, he in no way started it or took part in it, other than trying to stop things from escalating. Love and worry battle in my chest at the knowledge that my sweet boy did that, and I make a mental note to have a talk with him later about how to protect others but also keep himself safe.

We’re at the school for at least another hour, since I insist on having a private meeting with Principal Chapman while Violet spends time with Jake. She was right. This is a good school. Jake has been happy here, and the teachers are great, so I make it clear to the principal that I have no desire to pull Jake from the school—but that I will if something like this ever happens again.

Once I’m satisfied with his assurances, I go to find Jake and Violet. It’s getting late in the school day, and Jake is clearly upset by all of this, so I decide to take him home early.

He rides with me, although I can tell he’s not happy about having to say goodbye to Violet in the parking lot, even though he knows he’ll see her at home. I think he wishes we could all drive together, and I’m almost tempted to tell her to leave her car in the guest lot for now, but there’s no real reason to do that.

Fortunately, we arrive back at the house at almost the exact same time. Jake was quiet on the way home, but he perks up a little as I open the side door to unclip him from the booster seat.

“Ms. Violet!”

As soon as I set him on the ground, he runs over to where she’s just climbed out of her own car, tugging me along. He takes her hand too, walking between us with one hand in each of ours.

As I unlock the front door to let us in, I meet her eyes over his head.

“Thank you,” I tell her quietly. “For sticking up for him like that.”

She flushes as we walk inside. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

There’s more I want to say, but I don’t even know how to begin putting it into words. So since I don’t have a game tonight, I focus on getting Jake settled in and making sure that the remainder of his day is a lot better than the first half.

I cook dinner for the three of us, going all out with a new recipe that I found several weeks ago and have been dying to try. It goes over well with both Jake and Violet, which makes me smile, and after dinner, we all settle into the living room to watch a movie.

Jake picks an animated movie that we’ve seen once before, then cuddles up next to Violet. Admittedly, I don’t pay much attention to the movie, but Jake is totally consumed with it. He laughs at all the silly jokes and Violet laughs right along with him, and hearing that is all I need.

By the time the movie ends, they’re both asleep, knocked out by the events of the day. My heart strains at the sight of Jake curled up against Violet, and even though the credits are rolling, I can’t bring myself to wake either one of them up. So I just sit and watch them for several long moments, trying to commit the sight to memory.

When the credits finish and the app kicks back to the home screen, I get up as quietly as I can from the couch to gather up the bowls from our movie snacks and wash them, then turn off the lights around the house we aren’t using. Back in the living room, I scoop Jake up in my arms, and although he groans, he doesn’t wake up, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. But Violet stirs from the motion, her eyes fluttering.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper.

She checks her phone for the time, her eyes bleary. “Why not?”

“Because you looked…” I trail off, the words catching in my throat.

Perfect.

Right at home .

Like you belong here.

That’s what I want to say. But instead, I just lean over to kiss the top of her head, then carry Jake upstairs to his room with the words still burning in the back of my throat.