Page 75 of These Wicked Hearts

“You know he won’t, though. Daddy wouldn’t allow it.” Knox takes a sip of his drink.

I blink. “What?”

Knox straightens, resting both hands on the top of his pool cue. “His dad is our general manger.”

“Oh. Shit.” Honestly, that explains a lot.

“Yeah,” Knox mutters tightly after sinking a shot. “And he’s not exactly thrilled we lost last year. He wanted a three-peat.”

Theo crosses toward the fridge in the corner. “Atlas, I have beer if you prefer. You’ve been nursing that ginger ale for like an hour.”

My eyes drop to the can sweating in my hand.

I hate ginger ale.

I only grabbed it because it gave me something to hold. Watching everyone else drink has been making my skin itch for the last twenty minutes, and for one dangerous second the word yeah nearly slips out of my lips.

“He can’t,” Knox says before I can answer.

Theo pauses halfway to opening the fridge. “Can’t?”

Heat crawls up the back of my neck. “I uh . . .” God, I hate this part. “I’m sober.”

Theo shuts the fridge door. “Shit, sorry man. I won’t ask again.” He gestures upstairs. “I’ve got soda and other stuff too if you want something different.”

“No, this is okay.”

I already opened it anyway, and wasting things is not something I like doing.

Theo nods then hands Knox, Layton, and his defenseman Denton another beer.

The sound of pool balls and their laughter fills the room, but their voices feel far away, like I’m listening underwater. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve got my shitty little drink, and everyone is having a good time. Everything is great.

“You alright?” Knox asks quietly, taking a seat beside me.

“Yeah.” My fingers tighten around the can, and I quickly set it down on the side table before anyone notices they’re shaking. I ball my fingers in my lap. “Tired.”

“We can head back.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m gonna grab some air, though, I think.” I slap his thigh and stand up.

I head upstairs, through Theo’s kitchen, and shove open the sliding back door. Cold air hits my lungs hard enough to sting. The porch overlooks a dark stretch of yard dusted with snow.

I grip the railing and stare out into the dark.

Part of me wants to call Gage. Another part of me feels a little pathetic for thinking it. I’ve bothered him a lot, and I’m afraid he’s going to get tired of my constant whining. I know we’re only casual, and I don’t want to scare him away.

The sliding door opens behind me, and I turn to see Theo step onto the porch, beer still in hand.

“Oh—sorry.”

Theo narrows his eyes slightly. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I . . .” I let out a quiet laugh. “I honestly don’t know.”

I look away, turning back toward the dark yard beyond the porch. Snow dusts the grass in uneven patches, faintly glowing against the porch light.

“Not looking forward to snow,” he says. “It irritates me.”