“Your default setting is vaguely pissed off at the world.” He gestured at me. “And right now, you’re oddly mellow. Even with this game in the toilet.”
“Preoccupied, I guess.” I didn’t dare tell him with what.
“Well, un-occupy yourself, fuckface,” he said. “I can’t carry this game alone.”
Fair point. A lot of the guys were coasting tonight, which wasn’t helping me get my head straight. But it wasn’t an excuse, either. Usually, I would be the one reaming everyone out.
“Plus,” he lowered his voice, “scouts, man. Get it together. What happened to the fire you had the last few games?”
“Two of those were against Callingwood, and I fucking hate them, so…”
It helped when I genuinely wanted to cause bodily harm to a good portion of the other team, especially their captain. I didn’t have nearly the same size ax to grind with New England U tonight.
“So pretend we’re playing them. Get mad, bro. I need your head in this.”
I nodded. That could work. I would pretend everyone was Morrison out there and crush them accordingly.
A few minutes later, we headed back out, and Dallas and I hopped onto the ice for the first shift. Palmer, one of our D-men, immediately took a stupid-ass penalty for tripping. Idiot.
We headed into five on four play. I was at the high slot to disrupt cross ice passes and block shots from the point. The Wolves’ right winger wound up and passed to their center. Not today, bitches. I skated forward to intercept it, blocking the shot—with my fucking ankle. Searing pain shot through my foot, radiating up my leg.
Somehow, I managed to skate forward and beat the defender to the rebound, sending it over to Ward. He lined up and sank it in the top right-hand corner. With a fist pump, he skated off to our bench.
“Nice one,” I said, sitting beside him.
“When I told you to try, I didn’t mean sacrifice your sorry ass.”
“It’s fine,” I lied. It was throbbing like a motherfucker. But we needed that goal.
Dallas shook his head. He knew it was bullshit. “Are you going to invite that chick to Ty’s birthday next weekend?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Would Bailey want to go? Did she even like big parties? Plus, that was so far away. If I waited that long, it would be a week and a half before I saw her again.
Then the perfect opening hit me. It might involve actually doing my schoolwork, but hey, desperate times and all.
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 16
OceanofPDF.com
A TAD DRAMATIC
Chase: You’re a journalism major, right?
Bailey: I am. Why?
Chase: Does that mean you’re good at editing?
Bailey: What’s your angle, Carter?
Chase: My history paper is a fucking tire fire.
Bailey: Wish I could help, but I don’t know anything about history.
Chase: Turns out, neither do I.
Chase: Help me, James. I’m just a pretty face.
Bailey: I guess I could read it over and make sure it flows smoothly. Email it to me - [email protected]
Chase: I owe ya.
Chase: In fact, I’ll give Morrison an extra hit next time we play the Bulldogs. I’ll crush him for you. Like a bug.
Bailey: Oh my god, don’t do that. Still Team Bulldog here, remember?
Chase: For now.
Bailey: Forever.
Chase: We’ll see.
Bailey: We really won’t.
Bailey
Turned out that texting with Chase before bed was recipe for insomnia. I was way too keyed up to sleep. Given that I had an early class on Tuesday mornings, this was a highly problematic development. I pulled out all the stops—reading a boring textbook, rewatching comfort shows, even chamomile tea, but nothing could calm the buzz in my body.
Finally, I took some melatonin and fell asleep sometime around midnight, only to be startled awake by a loud crash, like something falling over and hitting the ground. Probably the neighbor’s cat, who loved to prowl around on our fire escape. I sighed, rolling over in bed to find the glowing red letters of my alarm clock staring back at me—3:12 a.m. Might as well go pee while I was up.
After sliding out from under the covers, I shuffled to my door and down the hall with my eyes half-closed. As I reached for the bathroom door, it swung open, and I ran smack into a large male body.
I jumped back. It was probably Paul or Eddie.
But in the dim moonlight streaming in, I caught sight of a familiar face. It was my brother.
“Geez!” I put a hand to my chest, my heart racing like I was watching a game in overtime. “Derek, what are you doing here?”
“Shh,” he said, grabbing my arm. “Keep it down.”
“You’re in my hallway in the middle of the night, and you’re shushing me?” I whisper-yelled. “I want an explanation.”
Derek bent closer, his voice low. “Can we go downstairs at least?”
“Fine,” I hissed.
He turned and headed down the steps. I followed behind and flipped on the light over the stove. I poured a glass of water while he sank onto a stool at the island, slumping over the laminate counter. I could pee later; right now, I needed to know what the hell was going on.
“Explain.” I rested both elbows on the counter, pinning him with my stare.
He lifted his head, regarding me with his brows knit together. His dark blond hair stood up everywhere, he had dark circles beneath his brown eyes, and his sweatshirt was rumpled. He looked like he’d just woken up after a night of terrible sleep.
His throat bobbed. “I was with Jill.”
“What?” The glass I was holding nearly slid out of my hand. I knew something suspicious was afoot, but hearing him say it out loud was a different story entirely.
“Would you keep your voice down?” He glanced at the stairs nervously. “No one is supposed to know.”
But I bet Amelia did.
I stared at him, my breath growing faster. A whirlwind of hurt, betrayal, disappointment, and anger swirled in my gut. Our parents hadn’t raised us to be the kinds of people who did things like this; Derek knew better.
“How could you—how could she—” I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Eddie is your friend.”
“I know.” Derek ducked his head, his jaw clenched. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m sure it is. How long has this been going on?”
He looked back up at me and shrugged, guilt all over his face. “Since August?”
“You mean this has been happening for months? What the hell, Derek?”
Then it hit me. Oh my god. I bet it happened at Paul’s parents’ cottage. After a huge blowout fight with Jill on Friday afternoon, Eddie stormed off and went back to the city instead of staying at the lake house for the weekend with the rest of us.
Jill had been really upset, crying and taking it hard, but then she’d gone to bed early. Then my brother had done the same not long after.
And they had always, always flirted.
“I know.”
“She’s using you,” I said, anger overtaking my other emotions. “I don’t know what for, but something. It’s not like her motivations can possibly be innocent here. You’re a side piece.”
Now I had to look at her every day and pretend I didn’t know this? How twisted was that? How many people were covering it up? Had Luke known too and not told me?