Fake Dating My Ex's Favourite Hockey Player novel Chapter 211

Chapter 211

TESSA

The irony doesn’t escape me. A few months ago, if you’d told me I’d ever feel relieved to see Aaron so relieved I can’t tear my eyes off him, even when his stare burns with something I wouldn’t have recognized before but now know instantly for what it is: anger – I’d have told you to go fuck yourself.

Aaron’s voice, low and certain, cuts through the air like a blade. “She said let go.”

For the first time tonight, Lyle’s grip actually falters. Not enough to set me free, but enough for me to feel the shift. Of course, he doubles down, squeezing tighter like the stubborn bastard he is. Pain blossoms sharp in my arm. Perfect.

He turns to Aaron with that fake–charm smile, the one that never touches his eyes.

“I’ve got it under control, yeah? This is me and Tessie’s business. No need for you to play hero.”

Aaron doesn’t answer right away. His jaw ticks, that sharp muscle shifting, his silence louder than most men’s shouting. His eyes don’t move from Lyle’s hand on me, like he’s already decided how this ends.

“Let her go.”

Lyle scoffs, his grip tightening until I wince. That hurts, you dumb fucker. “And if I don’t, what the hell are you going to do about it? I don’t know what your problem’s always been with me, but I suggest you stay out of this.”

Aaron nods, but it feels like he’s agreeing to something entirely different. “So you won’t let go?”

Lyle’s nostrils flare, annoyance brimming over. “Is this about your stupid little crush? I already told you to fuck the hell off, she’ll never fuck a bastard like yo-”

He doesn’t get to finish. One second he’s running his mouth, the next he’s stumbling back, clutching his jaw, almost falling over from the sheer force of Aaron’s punch. The crack of it makes me wince, but it’s not fear that courses through me it’s something sharper, something that makes my chest ache.

—

Aaron doesn’t even look at him. He walks straight to me, steady, focused, like the only thing in the room is my arm still in Lyle’s shadow. He reaches out, then hesitates midair. His voice is low, almost unsure. “Can I…?”

I nod before I can even think about it. Maybe it’s muscle memory, maybe it’s just him rubbing off on me, but whatever Lyle’s shouting in the background fades into nothing.

Aaron’s hands are careful, almost reverent as they settle around my arm. His touch is barely there, lighter than air, but his eyes… his eyes darken the second he sees the angry mark blooming on my skin. Anger flashes again, raw and unguarded, like he’s holding it down only for my sake.

“Does this hurt?” he asks.

The truth is no, not with the way he’s touching me. But when he looks up from my arm, I freeze. I’ve never seen anyone look at me like that. Not pity, not possession, not boredom. It’s something heavier, truer. It sinks right into me, lodges under my ribs, and I don’t even know what to call it.

My words tangle in my throat. I should laugh it off, brush it away like I always do. Instead, I find myself nodding, chasing that look even if it makes no sense.

“It hurts,” I whisper, almost testing him. “It really hurts.”

He waits, searching my face like he doesn’t believe me, like he wants to fix something deeper than a bruise. My chest feels tight.

“My…” I look down, and the words come out softer, different from the last time I said them months ago. There’s no teasing, no armor in it. Just the truth sliding out of me before I can stop it. “My feet hurt too.”

He carries me into his Jeep again.

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