Shutout (Rules of the Game, #2)(50)

“Uh, Ward?” I say delicately. “That was Seraphina’s decaf, just FYI.”

“Her what?” Dallas sets down the tongs, turning to face us. His eyes widen as he processes what I’d just said, and he winces. “Oh shit. Sorry, Sera. I can make you some more if you want. It just didn’t taste like it usually does so I thought someone fucked it up. And by someone, I mean Tyler.”

“To be clear, I make great coffee. It’s just too strong for your wimpy ass.”

“Thanks, but it’s okay.” She quickly rinses out the mug and dumps it in the sink. “I have to get going. I can hit the drive-through on my way to campus after the gym…” The waver in her voice tells me it’s anything but okay.

Tossing us a wave and a mumbled good-bye, she brushes past us on her way out of the kitchen, resolutely avoiding eye contact. My chest pulls tight as I watch her leave. Conflict wars within me, a bloody battle between my conscience and my mind. The urge to go after her is strong but I can’t tell whether she wants to talk—and I don’t want to make things worse if she doesn’t. More specifically, I don’t want to make it worse if I’m one of the things that’s upsetting her.

Dallas throws me a remorseful look before turning back to tend the sizzling bacon on the stove. “Now I feel like a dick.”

“It was an accident. Besides, I don’t think that was about coffee.”

“Dammit!” Sera’s voice carries into the kitchen from the foyer. The distress in her voice is like a knife to the gut.

Fueled by pure instinct, I’m halfway to her before I even realize it.

“What’s going on, Tink?” I ask, drawing closer. She’s got her puffy winter coat on, and her purse is slung over one shoulder, but she’s pacing in frantic circles, picking up random objects and looking beneath them. If she doesn’t want to talk, at least I can say I tried.

She sets down a pair of noise-canceling headphones someone left on the couch and throws her hands in the air. “I can’t find my fucking keys!”

Okay, we’re in full-on meltdown mode. Noted.

“Where’d you last see them?” I ask. “I can help you look.”

“If I knew where they were last, I’d have them right now!” Pivoting on her heel, she bumps the glass lamp on the entry table with her padded elbow, sending it toppling off the console. Immediately, my hand shoots out and I catch it before it hits the ground. Goalie instincts have their uses.

I set the lamp back before coming to stand in front of her. “Breathe, Ser.” I keep my voice soft, my fingertips gently touching her arm through her coat.

Lifting her chin, she peers up at me, her chest heaving with ragged inhales and exhales. We stay that way for a couple more breaths, wordless. There’s something so raw, so vulnerable written across her face. It takes all the self-restraint I have not to reach up and cup her chin like I want to. With Dallas in the next room, I can’t risk it.

“You don’t understand! If I’m more than ten minutes late, they won’t let me into the class, and they’ll charge me a late cancellation fee and the roads are bad and—”

“Realistically, you’re not going to make it in time. That’s okay. Maybe this is the universe’s way of saying you need a rest day. We all do, once in a while.” The fee is something like ten bucks, and her family is loaded. This isn’t about the coffee or the money. This is a stress spiral because of everything she’s dealing with between the move and her mom.

Seraphina looks marginally less agitated, but that isn’t saying much. “I’m supposed to meet Abby there.”

“I’m sure if you text her and explain what happened, she’ll understand.”

She scrunches up her mouth, and she pauses, considering. I can see her softening, little by little. The panic in her eyes fades, leaving behind a resigned weariness. She looks tired, like she didn’t sleep much last night.

“My whole morning has been thrown off. I was going to shower at the gym.”

If there’s one thing I’ve noticed, it’s that she does not cope well with change, however minor it might be. Unfortunately, she’s been dealing with a lot of it.

“Why don’t you go shower while I make you some more coffee? I can cook some breakfast too, while I’m at it. We can look for your keys after that. Everything is easier on a full stomach, and they have to be around here somewhere.”

Seraphina heaves a sigh. “Okay…”

Reluctantly, she heads downstairs while I go into the kitchen. I drain the last of my mug and refill it before washing out the machine to make her decaf. Despite what I may have led her to believe to spare her feelings, I need caffeine like I need air.

Dallas frowns, sliding the cooked bacon onto a paper-towel covered plate to absorb the grease. “She okay?”

“Think so. She’s dealing with a lot.”

“No doubt. I’m sorry about their mom.” Pausing, he studies my face. The room turns oppressively silent. His pale blue eyes feel like laser beams aimed at mine, searching for any hint of a lie. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“What do you mean?” I deflect, playing dumb.

“You two seem awfully close.”

Bringing my cup of coffee to my lips, I take a sip to buy myself time before I answer. “We’re friends.”