The landlord wanted two hundred flat for the winter heat, and he refused partial payments. Fifty-seven bucks was all but useless.
I stared at the bright numbers glaring back at me and ran the grim math in my head. Finding the rest of that cash before tomorrow morning was the only option. But letting my mom sell her family silver was a hard no.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket, pushed through the arena doors, and walked out into the night. And the icy wind bit my face the whole way back to the Ice House.
The solid front door locked behind me with a loud metallic clank. I climbed the dark, creaking stairs to the converted attic and pushed into my room. I didn’t bother to hit the light switch. Having a rare night off from the Food Mart was supposed to be a break, but the dead quiet just left me trapped with the math spinning in my head.
Of course. Of course, everything was falling apart right now.
I dropped my duffel bag by the bed and started pacing. The drafty window leaked cold winter air straight through my thin hoodie. The narrow floorboards bowed and groaned under my feet with every short step I took. I rubbed the stiff muscles in the back of my neck, trying to physically walk off the frantic energy, but the walls just felt like they were closing in on me.
The brass doorknob rattled, and Karter slipped inside. A stack of color-coded study notes hit the baseboard to keep up the cover of another tutoring session.
I crossed my arms. My weight shifted back. The order was already forming on my tongue:Not tonight. Get out.
Then I looked at him. His Ridge Cross hoodie hung loose on his frame. He’d been wearing it all week, I realized, the way someone clings to a thing that still feels safe. The memory surfaced before I could stop it:his shoulder solid under my head, the radiator ticking, his thumb brushing once across my cheek before I sank under and fell asleep.
My arms dropped. And the order died in my throat.
“Perez told everyone he saw an NHC scout pull you aside in the hall.” Karter shut the door behind him, a grin breaking through. “Did you get an offer?”
“Don’t celebrate yet.”
The grin held. “Why not? It’s a huge deal. The NHC is exactly what you want.”
“He mentioned their background checks.” I turned away, rubbing the back of my neck again. “They dig into everything. Personal lives. Social media. Who you spend your time with.”
“So don’t hang out with me. Publicly, I mean.”
A short breath punched out of my nose. “You make that sound simple. I’ve been trying to get rid of you for weeks. Your track record is terrible.”
Karter stepped closer. “Elliot thinks you’re hazing me. The coaches think we’re studying. Your bad reputation is finally working in your favor.”
I caught his wrist before his thumb found my jaw. “Background checks aren’t a joke.”
“Neither am I.” He held my gaze. “Nobody knows. We’re invisible up here.”
His body heat cut through the draft seeping from the window. I wanted to believe him. Wanted it badly enough that the wanting itself felt like a trap.
“Something else is wrong,” Karter said.
“It’s nothing.” I waved him away.
“It’s not nothing. You’re wound tighter than I’ve ever seen you before.”
The radiator clanked. The cold leaked through the glass. The number fifty-seven sat in my brain like a splinter.
“Fine,” the word scraped out. “My mom’s heating bill. Landlord wants two hundred by tomorrow or she’s pawning her silver.”
“Two hundred?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me cover it.”
The moment he said those words, it felt like he’d slapped me so hard that my teeth ached.
“No,” I took a step back.
