He’s sitting with his back against the fridge, peeling a label off a bottle of Rainier. His hair is blond chaos, sticking out from his baseball hat, and he looks up at me with a weak smile and tired, red-rimmed eyes.
“Yeah…my dad hired someone to help clean.” He seems so lost as he gazes around the dorm room.
A cold sense of dread floods my stomach, and I drop to my knees in front of him and cup his cheeks with my hands. “B, what’s going on? What happened?”
He closes his eyes, his long lashes fanning over his cheeks, and inhales like he’s savoring my scent. When his eyes blink back open, he seems to steel himself, his emotions draining away. The sense of dread escalates into full-blown panic.
“This isn’t going to work, Fiona.” He hardly ever calls me by my full name, and his voice is robotic like someone else is speaking for him.
“W–what?” I hate how small I sound as my hands drop from his face.
“You heard me. I just don’t have time for you. I need to be focusing on my hockey career now.”
I sit back on my heels, studying his demeanor. I’ve never seen him like this—so closed off. His posture is stiff, and his hand grips the brown bottle so hard, I’m worried it might break. “But you’ve already had some interest from the Canucks,” I say gently. “We don’t have to go to Europe if you feel like you need more ice time. We can?—”
“No!” he screams, and I flinch back, staring at him with wide eyes. “I don’t have time for you. Get it? You were just a good fuck. That’s. It.”
My stomach rolls. “I know you don’t mean that.” I keep my voice steady and matter-of-fact despite the turbulent wave of disbelief threatening to drown me. Dealing with a severe alcoholic for a mother, I’ve learned to take some pretty hard emotional hits, but this is next level. I finally let myself be vulnerable with someone for the first time in a very long time.
“I do mean it.”
“We can talk about this?—”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Fiona.” He leans forward when he says it, his expression furious. It reminds me of my mother’s face when she’s on a binge, and the nauseous feeling in my gut multiplies. Cold sweat erupts all over my too-hot skin. I clench my fists like I used to when I was a girl, feeling my nails dig painfully into my palms.
“We had plans, B,” I say weakly. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Get out, Fi.”
My heart fractures with the words, and I fall back onto my ass, staring at him stupidly.This has to be a nightmare.
“Are you deaf? Get. The. Fuck. Out.” His face is contorted with pain and rage. “NOW!”
I scramble to my feet. This time, I can’t hold back the tears as B’s—no, Brantley’s—apartment blurs around me. My back hits the corner of the counter painfully, and I turn and run for the door, my boots echoing loudly against the floor.
I don’t bother to wait for the elevator. Instead, I stumble down the stairs, choking back sobs. I barely register entering the lobby. All I know is that I have to get somewhere safe.
“Fi? What’s wrong?” I barely recognize Mason’s voice, and I don’t acknowledge him or any of the other guys.
The cool early evening air explodes against my clammy skin as I burst through the doors, and I don’t stop. I just keep running.
I wipemy eyes with shaky hands. I hate reliving that night. I hear Seb make a sound in the back of his throat, and I glance at him. He’s livid, his muscles taut like a rubber band about to snap. Before I can register the move, he surges over my body and grabs B by the collar of his flannel, hauling him over me until they’re nose-to-nose.
“Seb, no!” I yell and grab his arm as it winds back.
B looks startled and instinctively scrunches his eyes closed as he waits for the hit.
Seb freezes when I touch him. “He deserves to have his ass kicked, Fi,” he growls. “He doesn’t get to treat you that way and get away with it.”
“It’s fine, Fi,” Brantley croaks. “Not like I didn’t see it coming.” He turns his watery eyes on Seb. “And if I were in your shoes, I’d do the exact same thing.”
I pull at Seb’s hand, forcing him to lower it.
“How are you so freakishly strong?” he mutters.
I push against B’s chest, and he falls back, his blond hair falling over his eyes as he stares at me brokenly.
“Don’t you get it?” I whisper. “You changed everything for me too.” My voice cracks as tears fill my eyes. “You were about to graduate. We had an entire summer planned. And then I just knew you’d be a Canuck because you were so fucking talented, this unstoppable force. I was so proud of you.” My face feels like it’s on fire, but I push on. “I spent a fortune on Canucks gear because I was about to be your biggest fan—a wear-your-jersey, paint-my-face type fan, Brantley. I was in love.With you.” I shake my head. “I thought you felt the same, so I don’t understand. What happened that day?”
