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When I reached his room, his door was open a foot. I lifted my hand to knock as I approached, but then I paused when I saw him inside pacing and looking extremely agitated.
“Motherfucking son of a bitch,” he hissed quietly before gripping his head with both hands as if in the throes of the ultimate torment.
I gasped, certain he had a raging headache. That damn nurse who’d removed his stitches had done something wrong. What if he was bleeding inside again?
I started to rush forward, except next, he dropped his hands and gritted his teeth as he grabbed a shirt off his bed and wadded it in his hand so he could wind his arm back and throw it as hard as he could against the wall.
Wait. He wasn’t in pain.
He was mad. Or worried. Maybe worried-mad.
And he was trying to be quiet and keep it hidden from me, otherwise I had a feeling he would’ve picked up something a hell of a lot louder to throw against the wall, and he wouldn’t be cursing under his breath like he was; he’d be roaring the words at the top of his lungs.
He yanked his phone from his pocket and dialed a number before putting it on speakerphone and tossing it back onto the bed so he could talk to whomever he’d called as he paced the room and gripped his head some more. Curious, concerned, and totally confused, I stayed in the hall to find out who he was calling.
“Hey,” a male voice answered a few rings later. “What’s up? You want to play a few rounds of—”
“No,” Wick cut in abruptly. “You’ll never guess who I ran across today.”
“No clue. Who?”
“Annabeth Winslow.”
I pulled back, shaking my head and trying to figure out why Annabeth’s appearance would upset him.
“Wow, that must’ve been a blast from the past,” his friend answered, who I realized sounded like J.J.—Cannon. “How long’s it been since you last heard from her?”
“Oh, about two years now,” Wick answered, nodding.
“Really? Wow, didn’t take you long to cut that loose, huh?”
Cut her loose? Not take him long? What? I shook my head, stupidly not catching on.
“I didn’t cut her loose,” Wick snapped. “She cut me loose. And guess what? Haven was there.”
“So?”
Cannon sounded confused. Good. So was I.
“So, I just learned that Annabeth was Haven’s roo
mmate before she moved in with me,” Wick hissed.
“Whoa. Freaky coincidence.”
“Yes, it sure is, isn’t it?” Wick snapped. “But do you want to know what’s an even freakier coincidence?”
“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“Annabeth is the very roommate Haven walked in on while she was screwing Nicholl.”
“Oh…shit.”
“Shit? Shit? Is that all you have to say?”
“What else do you want me to say, man?”
“When did you bring her up to me in the locker room?”
