“Interesting.”
“Really, I have no clue. Anyway, he spooked me so much, I ran. But I have the rest of your money for the month.”
He cackles. “Yeah, right, my money. Leave it under the doormat.”
I frown, unease rising. I thought for sure he’d be more pissed. “What?”
“You heard me. Leave it.”
I hesitate, wondering what this means. “All right . . .”
“Later,” he says, and there’s nothing but dead air.
I pocket my phone as I head to the laundromat, checking behind me every two steps. He’s not just going to let this go. What if he has guys waiting on me?
I might even wind up like Gina—gone forever, part-myth, part cautionary tale.
When I reach the laundromat, I look around, but the area’s empty except for a few people gathering in the shadows of the sidewalk. A long set of metal stairs on the side of the building looms like a one-way street to danger.
My head flashes to an image of me in a ditch.
Eyes open, staring at nothing.
I push it away and take the stairs, trying to be quiet, but my sneakers ping against each tread. When I reach the doormat, I half-expect a gun to be pointed in my face.
I lift the Wipe Your Paws doormat and stick the cash underneath. I descend the staircase like I have wings and point myself toward home, checking behind me every few seconds.
My phone pings with a text. From Parker. What r u up to? Wanna fuck?
Seriously?
I scroll back over his previous texts, ones he sends every week.
Just checkin’ in.
Miss ur tight pussy.
Saw u today. Fuckin’ hot.
My cock is calling ur name.
Ju-Ju, where u at? Coffee? Lunch? Dinner?
At the lake. Without u. Whore. Gonna fuck this girl in the ass and say ur name when I cum.
My jaw tics.
He can’t understand why I broke up with him. Does he think I like these messages? Should I be scared of him? I don’t know. I thought I knew him, but this is over the top.
Pushing it aside,
I text my mother to check in. R u okay?
My throat tightens when she doesn’t reply.
I’m worried about u, I send.
It’s been a few days since we talked, and I need to give her a heads up about Connor. He might take what happened out on her.
By the time I get home, there’s still no reply from her. Exhaustion takes its toll as I trudge up the stairs. Maybe I can borrow Taylor’s car and drive around town and look for Mom. She stays with friends on and off. I can check in with them and the usual bars she likes.
I fall into my bed, lashes fluttering closed.
I should do that . . .
I’m asleep before I realize it.
8
Eric
“Hansen. Thumb up your ass?” Boone snarks as he sails past me on the ice.
Yeah, I missed the puck. It sailed between my legs.
Falcon, one of our reserve defensemen, snatches it and shoots it into the other goal.
Perfect.
That’s the third pass from Boone I’ve missed.
He arcs around and slides to a stop in front of me. “What’s your deal?”
I slap my helmet. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Reece skates up to us, ice spraying as he looks at me. “You’re never this off.”
I move toward the face-off spot. “Whatever. Yeah. Let’s run it again.”
We do, and it’s as if I have chunks of lead in my body. My legs are heavy like molasses. I can’t stop running LSAT questions through my head and wondering if my father will call the board to see if he can get the scores early.
If he has time. Which he doesn’t.
I used to hate that my father was never around, but now it might be my saving grace.
Why didn’t I study?
The puck connects with my stick, and I go through the motions from muscle memory, take it up the ice, doing the footwork to avoid the defensive trap. I fake right and go left, leaving the defenseman panting in the icy mist of my skates. I assess the goalie’s weakness, the spot over his right shoulder. I get in position, ready to shoot, and . . .
Julia…
Why didn’t I tell her I paid off her goon?
Was it because I didn’t want to admit that I spent that kind of money on a girl who hates me?
Falcon slips in behind me and scoops the puck off my stick. He spins, crosses the center line, making it past the blue even before I turn around.
He shoots, scores.
My shoulders twitch with anger. It’s just a scrimmage, yeah, but in my head, I hear the buzzer go off, see the crowd cheering for the other team. I see fans, the ones who depend on me, glowering.