Need Your Help

Rhett

“I don’t need your help,” I spit at him coldly, averting my gaze. The last thing I wanted was Cassian or anyone helping me because they felt pity for me. Seeing me in this state was bad enough.

“Kinda looks like you do,” he smirks, snatching the tube out of my hand. He sinks onto the bed beside me and presses the ointment into his palm, then moves it over the wound. His hands travel to other spots, delicately applying it, and it takes every ounce of restraint left in my body to stop my wolf from losing it.

I sit there wishing I could just be like him—unaffected by touching me.

My heart does a little squeeze as I realize he doesn’t even feel an ounce of what I feel.

There’s a difference in how his touch feels now. He’s no longer applying the ointment; instead, his finger is tracing a bruise and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Thanks,” I snap, shifting away from his touch.

“Should you even be going for training?”

“Why do you care?” I snap, even though I know he is right. It has only been twenty-four hours, and despite the advantage of being a werewolf with speedy recovery, the number my father did on me will take at least a week to heal. I should be in bed, resting and taking meds, but just lying there would make me lose my mind.

“I don’t,” replies Cassian with a roll of his eyes. “I’m just tired of hearing you groan every second. Putting your body under more stress means you’ll be doing that every millisecond.”

“Fuck off,” I roll my eyes, grabbing my duffel bag as I walk out of the dorm. I take in a breath, preparing myself for a day filled with pretense. I had to be tough, and I have to make sure that no matter the circumstances, no one can know I’m in pain.

I’m not sure how I want to do that.

I just have to.

By the time I put on my skates in the locker room, sweat is already stinging my eyes. Just bending over to tie the laces feels like someone is twisting a knife into my side.

“You look terrible, Rhett,” Matt says, leaning against the lockers. His eyes narrow as he watches me stand up slowly. “Why was your dad mad, by the way?”

“I’m fine, Matt. Just drop it,” I growl, my voice getting deeper to warn him off.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Also, just to warn you, they’re considering kicking you off captain. Depends on your performance this week.”

“What?” I ask, my voice rising in annoyance.

“You don’t know about the petition amongst students?”

“What petition?”

“Man, after the last game, they think you’re fucked. Everyone wants you off… this week will be your evaluation. If I were you, I’d tell Coach you got injured so he puts that into consideration.”

“How come I’ve never heard of it?” I say through gritted teeth, putting on my helmet. The plastic scrapes against the bruise on my jaw, making my vision blur for a second.

Matt only shrugs. “By the way, Jacob wants to be captain so bad, so better watch it with him.”

“Thanks.”

When I step onto the ice, the cold air usually wakes me up. This time, the coldness makes everything ache.

We start a five-on-five full-contact practice drill.

Just my luck.

For the first fifteen minutes, I play it safe, passing the puck early to avoid getting hit. I can feel my wolf, Rook, getting anxious inside me, whining at how stupid this is. My pride won’t let me sit on the bench or admit I am too injured to play. With whatever petition this is, I’m definitely not going to sit it out. Only God knows if they’ll start another one about me giving excuses. More reason to just endure.

The puck goes into the corner loosely just then. My instinct takes over, so I skate fast to get it, turn, and the sudden twist hurts my back.

“Fucking hell,” I gasp through gritted teeth as my knees buckle a bit.

Before I can get my balance, a dark jersey flashes in my vision.

It’s Jacob.

He’s skating fast with hunched shoulders, and I realize just then that he’s not even playing the puck; he’s just trying to take me down.

I prepare for the hit, closing my eyes and waiting for the pain that will show everyone I’m weak.

But it never happens.

Instead, a loud crack echoes through the rink.

I open my eyes, and a figure hits Jacob, taking the hit instead of me. Jacob flies backward, crashes into the ice, and slides into the boards.

Standing in his place, wearing sneakers and a hoodie, is Cassian.