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“I was telling Scottie that I think we should try and get him out on the ice sometime.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
“But there’s an inclusive session at the rink. I was thinking—”
“Harper,” I snapped, side-eyeing my brother,” I said leave it.”
Her expression dropped right along with my good mood. “Sorry, I just thought—”
“Yeah, well, don’t. It’s getting late. We should probably wrap things up here.”
“Oh, okay.”
She stared at me, but I couldn’t look at her. Who the fuck did she think she was waltzing into our lives and acting like she knew what was best for Scottie? He couldn’t go out on the ice; he was terrified. I knew because I’d witnessed the fallout more than once.
“You done, buddy?” I asked him, and he nodded.
Harper got up and pulled ten dollars out of her purse. “For my food.” She laid it down on the table. “It was nice seeing you again, Scottie. I’ll see you at the center next week.”
“Okay, bye, Harper.” He was more interested in his fiddle toy than her. If she knew him better, she’d know that he tended to get like that after a big meal—especially one full of sugar.
“Bye.” She hesitated, probably waiting for me to apologize. But that wasn’t going to happen. Scottie was my number one priority, always.
But Harper didn’t back down; she locked her blue eyes right on me, daring me to do it. To concede.
“See ya.” I gave her a dismissive nod.
Disappointment glittered in her eyes as she shook her head softly and walked out of the diner with her head held high.
“Do you think she’ll die?” Scottie said, a rare flicker of concern in his eyes.
“What?”
“Harper. Do you think she’ll die from the cross-tamination?”
“Nah, I don’t think she’ll die, bud.” I ruffled his hair, unable to resist watching her out of the window.
Hopefully, she’d finally gotten the message and would give up trying to be my friend.
Fuck knows it would make my life a hell of a lot easier.
* * *
After I dropped Scottie home, I headed back to Lakeshore to help the guys get ready for the Bite the Ice party.
It was a big deal on campus, one of the highlights of the student social calendar. Every year, the team turned Lakers House into a living, breathing scare house. And every year, the team tried to outdo the efforts from the previous year.
I’d heard the guys throwing around talk of animatronics, pigs’ blood, and taxidermy. Thankfully, Scottie-duty had gotten me out of the heavy lifting this morning, but I’d promised to make it back in time to help with drinks and snacks.
“About fucking time,” Ward said as I fought my way through the webbing strung up outside the front of the house.
“How’s it going?”
“Dumfries is supervising.” He arched his brow. “Not going to lie, it’s a shit show.”
“Out here is looking good.”
“Because yours truly is working this area.” He grabbed another handful of webbing and started stringing it up, stretching out the web to cover more of the house.
