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“I don’t want to deal with anyone.” He props himself up on the stack of pillows behind his head. “You’re lucky I’m talking to you.”
I shake my head at him, annoyed. “Prez, I know this feels like the end of the world, but your hand will heal, and when it does, you can still play hockey.”
“You don’t know if that’s true.” His face scrunches in anger, and his gaze travels over the hockey posters on his wall. “The doctor said anything could happen. We won’t know for sure until I heal if I’ll have the same range of motion in my hand. And what pro team will want someone who was suspended by the NCAA for violently attacking another player? I have no fucking shot of ever making it pro now.”
“With your dad’s connections, I’m sure he can find you a team.”
He glares at me, flexing his jaw. “I don’t want to play for some farm league or in fucking Russia. This was the dream. You, me, the guys, and the NHL.”
“You’re too good to get passed over,” I admit because it’s the truth. “Something has to come from this.”
“You don’t know that,” he challenges, leaning forward. “Sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m so fucking mad I can’t even think straight. I keep replaying that night over and over in my head. I fucked up so bad that no number of apologies or money can fix what I did. I have to live with the decision I made for the rest of my life.”
“Bex said to tell you she’s sorry for getting you involved. What was she talking about?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he sighs. “It’s not my story to tell. Sorry. I can’t go into it.”
“You fought Lehane because of Bex?”
He nods, his face devoid of emotion.
“You have to give me something, bro. C’mon.”
“I wish I could.” His tone sounds sincere. “Bex doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Maybe I can help,” I offer.
“No one can. What Lehane did to deserve that beating won’t change my suspension.”
“Are you done with Bex?” I press my palm to the mattress, shifting my weight. “She’s a good girl. You would be stupid to push her away.”
He snorts. “Like you did with Shannon.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh at the mention of her name. “Things with Shan are complicated.”
“So is my relationship with Bex,” he retorts, his nostrils flared. “I need a break. From everything and everyone. I don’t want to talk about my suspension or my career. I just want to be left alone. She’s a reminder of what I lost. I don’t blame her, but I don’t want to see her right now. I need time to process.”
I push myself up from the bed. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Opening my mouth, I hesitate with my next words. “Don’t shut everyone out, Prez. We all want to help you. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
He steals his eyes away from mine, avoiding me. “There’s nothing anyone can do for me.”
Irritated with his attitude and the general shitty mood in the house, I sigh. “Okay. You know where to find me if you want to talk or play Mage Wars. I beat level fifty-five last night. You should’ve seen this wizard I had to face. I called my dad after I beat it to curse him out for making the game so fucking hard.”
He laughs for the first time in over a week. “Did you have to answer another riddle? I hate those fucking questions.”
“Nah, this time I had to save up enough magic dust to break through an enchanted fortress. I must’ve died at least a hundred times before I figured out how to defeat the mages in each room.”
He sits up, one leg crossed over the other, interested in the game. “What rooms?”
Grinning, I sit back down on the edge of the bed, thrilled to see him slowly going back to the old Preston. “After you defeat the giant that guards the enchanted fortress, you have to steal the magic from the mages in each room.”
I rehash every level I beat in detail. For once, Preston listens without interrupting me. And I know in this moment, Preston will be okay. We’ll all be okay. And after I get my act together, I need to fix what I’ve broken with Shannon.
Chapter Eighteen
Shannon
I hurry into Broad Street Beans to get a break from the chill outside. The scent of coffee brewing smacks me in the face. Rubbing my hands together, I tip my nose in the air and take in the delicious aroma. I try to save my money for more important things than expensive coffee drinks, but it’s too damn cold outside to wait for the bus without a warm cup in my hand.
I order a hot chocolate, and then move over to the counter where the barista is setting down mugs. The shop is crowded at this hour. Most of the campus appears to be inside, not an open seat in the house. So much for hanging out here until the bus comes.
