35. Tyler

Do not think about how broken he looks. Don't you dare.

My head pounded, and I told myself it was the stress—the constant racing thoughts battling each other like prize-winning boxers. Their blows pounded against my temples, further intensifying my headache. It was all his fault—I'd had the headache since the game the day before. No matter how many shots of whiskey I downed, it didn't drown out the voices and pictures in my mind.

How sexy he looked under me, how sexy he looked over me. "I'll look after you, baby.,"

That vulnerable look as I took in the bruises on his body.

"Baby…"The rejected look just before I closed the door on him.

His tousled hair as he stood on the staircase meant he'd been pulling at it the way he does when he's stressed. I could see the tracks from fingers sliding through the roots and where he attempted to flatten it, but there were always a few strands that protested.

Then a different face flashed to the forefront of my mind; Zane Matthews. My gut churned at the hate in his eyes, that fucking slur being sprayed across the ice.

Australians often used many insults as terms of endearment, but that one had a universal meaning. I rolled my eyes and sighed, coming back to the present. The smooth burn of the cheap whiskey warmed my body as I tipped my head back. Most guys had already found their hookup for the night and had begun to retreat to their bedrooms. Mouse stood opposite me on the bench, animatedly talking about… something. I hadn't paid much attention to what but I knew that at least it wasn't a mole. I blinked back the dizziness, trying to focus on what he was saying.

"Dude, she looked at me! She actually looked at me!" Mouse practically bounced on his toes.

Jarman hummed and sculled back another shot, pouring one for me. I followed his lead, but as I lowered my head again the room began to spin. Fuck.

"That's good mate. Just ask her on a date," I slurred. I hadn't had that much to drink, had I?

I shook my head in an attempt to clear it, but that only made it worse.

"How? She's so perfect, and I'm … well, me." Mouse's jovial tone went uncharacteristically flat.

"Just ask her what her perfect date is. Then ask her when she's free and take her out to do exactly that. You're a good-looking guy, she'll say yes."

He beamed., "Oh, em gee, Aussie. Yes! I'll try that!"

He clapped me on the shoulder and ran off. I looked beside me to see Jarman's gaze locked on him with a pained expression.

Well, fuck. I knew that look all too well.

"Jar…" I started.,

"It's nothing, Aus. He's my best friend, that's all. I worry." He took another shot, not giving me any confidence in what he just said. He then clapped me on the shoulder as well before saying he was going to head out.

I stood there on my own, looking around at everyone's happy faces. There was something about being alone in a crowded room full of happy couples that made the world seem so small. There was only me, myself, and I. I had the depressing thought, and my heart protested the idea—the one that told me this was my future: surrounded by a team but no one to go home to at night.

That lonely thought had me picking up the rest of the whiskey bottle and heading out into the cold.