Chapter 9: CHAPTER 9
Julian POV
The sun hitting the nylon of the tent felt like an accusation.
I woke up before Jax did. I was still tucked into the curve of his body, the heat of him seeped into my skin so deeply that I couldn't tell where I ended and he began. For a few seconds, in the haze of sleep, I didn't try to move. I just listened to his steady, rhythmic breathing against my neck. It was the first time in weeks my brain wasn't screaming about schedules or stats.
Then, reality slammed back in.
I sat up so fast I nearly hit my head on the tent pole. I scrambled out of the sleeping bag, my hands shaking as I fumbled for my boots. I felt like I had committed a crime. The memory of whispering for him to stay, of letting him hold me like I was something fragile, made my stomach churn with a mixture of shame and a terrifying, unwanted hunger.
"Going somewhere?" Jax’s voice was gravelly with sleep. He was still lying there, looking entirely too comfortable for a man who had just spent the night in a freezing tent with his Captain.
"We have to pack up. Coach wants us on the road by eight," I said, my voice sounding tight and high in my ears. I didn't look at him. I couldn't. "Forget about last night. It was a survival necessity. Nothing more."
I heard the sleeping bag rustle as he sat up. "A survival necessity. Right. That’s what we’re calling it?"
"That’s what it was," I snapped, finally looking at him. He looked ruffled, human, and frustratingly unimpressed by my authority. "Don't make it something else, Jax. I mean it."
The ride back to campus was worse than the hike. Because we had arrived in my car, we were stuck in it for the two-hour drive down the mountain. The heater was blasting, but the air between us was frigid.
I kept my eyes glued to the road, my hands at ten and two, gripping the leather steering wheel until my knuckles were white. Jax was sprawled in the passenger seat, his muddy boots up on my dashboard, something I would usually lose my mind over, but today I didn't have the energy to fight him.
"You're doing it again," Jax said about forty miles in. He was staring out the window at the passing pines.
"Doing what?"
"Suffocating. You're acting like if you breathe too loud, the car is going to explode. It was just a night in a tent, Julian. No one died. No one saw. The Thorne legacy is still intact."
"You don't get it," I muttered. "You think everything is a joke. You think you can just slide through life without consequences because you don't have anyone to answer to. I have a Board of Trustees. I have a father who expects me to be the face of this university. I have a girl who…"
"A girl you don't even like," Jax interrupted. He turned in his seat, looking at me with that raw, annoying honesty. "I saw your face when you listened to that voicemail, Jules. You looked like a man being fitted for a noose. Why do you do it? Why do you let them bury you alive?"
"Because the alternative is being nothing!" I shouted, the car swerving slightly as my grip tightened. "I don't know how to be 'just a guy.' I don't know how to be like you. If I'm not the best, if I'm not the perfect son, then I'm just a failure. And I can't be a failure."
As we pulled through the stone gates of Northwood, the reality of the outside world returned in full force. Students were walking to class, and the athletic facility was buzzing with activity. I felt the mask slide back into place, the heavy, familiar weight of the Captain persona settling over my features.
I pulled up to the dorm lot and put the car in park. I didn't turn it off.
"We go back to how it was," I said, staring straight through the windshield. "No more tents. No more 'moments.' You stay on your side of the suite, and I stay on mine. On the ice, we are teammates. Off the ice, we are strangers."
Jax didn't move for a long time. I could feel his gaze on the side of my face, heavy and judgmental.
"You're a coward, Julian," he said quietly. It wasn't an insult; it was a statement of fact. "You’re the best defenseman I’ve ever seen, but you’re a goddamn coward when it comes to your own life."
He opened the door and climbed out, grabbing his gear from the back seat. He didn't look back. I sat in the car for a long time after he was gone, my forehead resting against the steering wheel. My heart was thudding a slow, painful beat.
He was right. I was a coward. But as I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror, I realized the cowardice wasn't just about the fear of my father. It was the fear that if I let Jax in, I would never want to leave the world he lived in.
The elevator ride up to the fourth floor felt like it took a decade. I stood as far away from Jax as the small metal box allowed, my eyes fixed on the glowing floor numbers. My body was still humming with the vibration of the car, but deeper than that, it was humming with the memory of the tent.
The doors slid open, and we walked down the carpeted hallway in a silence that felt heavy and jagged. I fumbled with my keycard, my fingers feeling clumsy. When the door finally clicked open, the air of the suite hit me. It smelled like lemon floor cleaner and expensive candles.
It didn't smell like us. It didn't smell like the mountain.
I dropped my gear by the door, the heavy thud of my hockey bag echoing through the high ceilings. I looked at the common area. Jax’s posters were still there, the tattered Red Wings logo, the messy pile of magazines on the coffee table. Usually, seeing his clutter made my blood boil. Today, it just made me feel exhausted.
Jax walked past me, his boots leaving faint muddy prints on the rug I’d worked so hard to keep white. I didn't even yell at him. I just watched him go. He opened the fridge and grabbed a Gatorade, leaning back against the counter as he drained half the bottle in one go.
"You going to stand there all day, Thorne? Or are you going to go scrub the 'rookie' off your skin?" Jax asked. He wasn't smirking. He just looked tired.
"I’m going to shower," I said, my voice sounding scratchy.
I walked towards him to grab a glass of water, trying to keep a wide berth around him. But the suite was designed for efficiency, not for two athletes trying to avoid each other. As I reached for a glass, my arm brushed against his.
It was a tiny contact, just a fraction of a second of skin against skin. But after the night in the tent, it felt like an explosion. I jerked my arm back so fast I nearly knocked the glass over.
"Easy," Jax muttered, reaching out to steady the glass. His hand stayed over mine for a second too long. "I’m not going to bite you, Julian. Not unless you ask."
"Don't," I hissed, pulling my hand away. "I told you in the car. It’s over. We’re back to reality now."
"This isn't reality," Jax said, gesturing to the polished countertops and the sterile decor. "This is a stage. You’re just waiting for the curtains to open."
I didn't have an answer for that. I grabbed my water and headed for my room, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I needed to wash the smell of smoke and Jax Miller off me. I needed to find the version of myself that knew how to breathe without checking for permission first.
I was halfway through my hallway when I realized the light in the living room was different. There was a warm, golden glow coming from the dining table that wasn't there when we walked in. And then I smelled it, garlic, rosemary, and the heavy scent of a red wine reduction.
"Surprise!"
Riley stepped out from the kitchen area, wearing a silk blouse and slim trousers that probably cost more than Jax’s car. She looked perfect. Her hair was swept back into a sleek ponytail, and her makeup was flawless, as if she hadn't just been standing over a stove.
I froze. Behind me, I heard Jax stop in his tracks.
"Riley," I said, my voice failing me for a second. "What are you doing here?"
"I talked to the housing office and told them I wanted to welcome the heroes back from the mountain," she said, walking toward me with a bright, scripted smile. She slid her arms around my neck and kissed me.
It was a long kiss. A proprietary kiss. She was marking her territory, and I knew exactly why. Her eyes flickered over my shoulder to where Jax was standing, watching us with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust.
I didn't pull away, but I felt like I was made of stone. My skin was still buzzing from Jax’s touch in the kitchen, and now Riley was here, pressing herself against me, trying to pull me back into the world I hated so much.
"You look exhausted, honey," Riley said, pulling back to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. "And you smell like... a campfire. Go shower. I’ve made boeuf bourguignon. We need to celebrate your return. The alumni board is already asking for photos from the trip."
"I... yeah. Give me ten minutes," I managed to say.
I turned to go to my room, but Riley’s hand stayed on my arm. She turned her smile toward Jax. It was a sharp smile, polite on the surface, but full of venom underneath.
"Jax, I’m sure you’re starving too," she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "There’s plenty of food. Why don't you go clean up and join us? It’ll be so nice to have a 'family' dinner."
Jax didn't move. He looked at her, then he looked at me. The pity I’d seen in his eyes in the tent was gone, replaced by a cold, hard disappointment.
"I’m not really into family dinners, Riley," Jax said. He didn't look away from me as he spoke. "I think I’ll just grab some takeout and head to the rink. I’ve got some things I need to work out of my system."
"Oh, what a shame," Riley chirped. "Well, more for us, then."
Jax turned and walked into his room, slamming the door hard enough to make the framed photos on the wall rattle.
I stood there in the silence, Riley’s hand still heavy on my arm. I looked at her, at the beautiful, perfect life she was offering me, and I felt a wave of nausea so strong I had to lean against the wall.
"Is everything okay, Julian?" she asked, her eyes narrowing just a fraction.
"Fine," I lied. "Everything is perfect.”
The boeuf bourguignon smelled incredible, but to me, it smelled like a trap.
I sat across from Riley at our small dining table. She had set it with cloth napkins and actual silverware, a stark contrast to the plastic sporks and lukewarm beans I’d been eating for three days. The candlelight flickered against the wine glasses, casting long, dancing shadows against the walls.
"The Board is thrilled with the preliminary footage from the mountain, Julian," Riley said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. Her movements were so precise they felt rehearsed. "My mother says the donors love the 'rugged' look. It humanizes the Thorne brand. We’re thinking of doing a spread in the alumni magazine 'The Captain in the Wild.'"
I poked at a piece of beef. It was tender, expensive, and tasted like nothing. "It wasn't a photo op, Riley. It was training. It was brutal."
"I know, honey. And you handled it so well." She reached across the table, her cool fingers covering mine. Her touch was light, but it felt like a shackle. "We just need to make sure the narrative stays on track. Your father is concerned about the roommate situation. He thinks having... someone like Jax in your space might lead to some 'unfortunate' associations."
"He's just a guy, Riley. He’s a teammate."
"He’s a project," she corrected, her smile never wavering. "And projects have an end date. Once the season starts and the draft rankings come out, we’ll move you into a single suite. It’ll be better for your focus. And for us. We need to start thinking about the Founders' Gala. I’ve already looked at three tailors for your tuxedo."
I looked at her, and for a second, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. She wasn't talking about my life; she was talking about a museum exhibit. She was talking about a version of me that didn't exist anymore, the version that hadn't shivered in a tent and felt the solid, grounding heat of a man who didn't care about my last name.
Through the thin walls of the suite, I heard the heavy thud of a hockey bag hitting the floor in Jax’s room. Then the sound of his door opening and closing. He was still there, a silent witness to the lie I was living. Every time he moved, my heart skipped a beat, a frantic, guilty thud in my chest.
"You're not listening, Julian," Riley said, her voice dropping into that sweet, sharp tone that usually meant I had stepped out of line.
"I am," I lied. "The gala. The tuxedo. I’m listening."
"Good. Because your father expects us to be the highlight of the evening. We are the future of Northwood, Julian. Don't forget that."
Riley left at midnight, leaving behind the scent of her perfume and a pile of dirty dishes that I didn't have the energy to wash. I stood at the sink, staring out the window at the empty campus. The moon was high and cold, a pale imitation of the one that had watched us on the mountain.
I heard the floorboards groan behind me. I didn't have to turn around.
"Nice dinner?" Jax asked.
He was leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, wearing nothing but his boxers. He looked raw, his skin still flushed from a hot shower, his hair damp and messy. He looked real. And in this polished, lemon-scented suite, he looked like he didn't belong.
"It was fine," I said, my back still turned to him.
"Fine. Right. She spent two hours telling you how to breathe, and you just sat there and took it." Jax walked into the kitchen, his bare feet silent on the tile. He stopped right behind me, his heat radiating off him, clashing with the cold air from the window. "You’re pathetic, Julian."
I spun around, my anger finally snapping. "You don't know what you're talking about! You think it's so easy to just walk away? I have responsibilities. I have people who depend on me. I can't just be 'free' like you. I wasn't born with the luxury of having nothing."
"You think having nothing is a luxury?" Jax stepped into my space, his chest inches from mine. He was taller, broader, and he was using every inch of his energy to pin me against the counter without even touching me. "I spent my whole life being told I didn't matter. I spent every night in a different bed wondering if anyone would notice if I vanished. I fought for every inch of space I take up in this world."
He reached out, his hand slamming onto the counter on either side of my waist, trapping me. "But you? You have everything, and you’re still a slave. You’re terrified of a girl in a silk blouse and a dad who hasn't hugged you in a decade. You want to know what I see when I look at you, Thorne?"
"Stop," I whispered, my breath hitching.
"I see a guy who's dying for someone to tell him it's okay to stop being perfect," Jax said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble. He leaned in, his nose brushing against mine. The tension was so thick I could taste it, a sharp, electric charge that made my knees weak. "I see a guy who liked the way I held him in that tent. I see a guy who wants to be ruined, just so he doesn't have to be the Captain for five goddamn minutes."
I should have shoved him away. I should have walked out. But I couldn't move. I was paralyzed by the honesty in his eyes. He wasn't performing. He wasn't following a script. He was just there, heavy and real and devastatingly close.
"I hate you," I breathed, but the words had no bite.
"Liars go to hell, Julian," Jax countered, his hand moving from the counter to the back of my neck. His grip was firm, proprietary. He wasn't asking; he was taking. "Go to sleep. And try not to dream about tuxedoes."
He let go of me and walked out, leaving me shaking against the sink. My heart was thudding so hard it hurt. He had seen through the mask, through the heritage, through the lies. He had seen the void inside me, and instead of being disgusted, he had reached right into it.
I went back to my room and locked the door, but the walls felt like they were closing in.
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the "Ice King" again. I tried to think about the morning drills, the defensive pairings, the Founders' Gala. But every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Jax. I could feel the heat of his hand on the back of my neck. I could hear his voice telling me that I was a coward.
The contrast between the two worlds was starting to tear me apart. Riley’s world was clean, quiet, and dead. Jax’s world was messy, loud, and terrifyingly alive. And for the first time in twenty-two years, I realized I didn't want the life I was born into.
I realized that being the one who lets go, the one who isn't in charge, the one who is vulnerable, wasn't a weakness. It was the only way I was going to survive. If I kept trying to live up to the Thorne legacy, I was going to break.
I lay there in the dark, my hand moving to the spot on my neck where Jax had touched me. I felt a sudden, violent urge to go to his room, to crawl into his bed, and to let him erase everything I was supposed to be. But the fear was still there, a cold, heavy weight in my gut.
I fell asleep to the sound of my own heart, a slow, steady beat that sounded like a countdown. The season hadn't even started yet, and I was already losing the game.