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The police come. Jacob appears only a few minutes after them, bursting out in his full kit—minus the skates, which have been replaced with slides. His gaze burns into me as he approaches, and I try not to fall apart.
Henry tried to make a play for me—and I just don’t understand it.
How it could’ve gone so wrong on his end.
Isn’t he more calculated than this?
I tell the police about the restraining order and the false identity. They have someone collecting shells and taking photos, and they mention needing me to come down to the station to give a formal statement in the next few days.
They’re going to search for Henry, but I already have a feeling they’re not going to find him.
“What happened with the game?” I ask Jacob as soon as they’re gone.
His gaze is scouring mine, and he cups my cheek.
Fuck.
Suddenly, the reality of what almost happened comes crashing down on me. Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but it doesn’t take long for them to spill out.
“Shh.” He reels me into him. “He won’t get you.”
“You’re the reason he’s here, aren’t you?”
He goes still.
My brow furrows, and I add, “Because he knows I’m with you.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
He’s lying.
I don’t draw back, though. I don’t even call him out on it. I just let him comfort me, and we go up to the main level. There’s more security here, and Greyson raises his eyebrows at them.
“Rent-a-cops?”
Jacob shrugs.
“Let’s get back to the hotel. Game’s shot anyway.” He makes a face. “Sorry, dude.”
“What’s the score?” I ask.
“LA is up by six.”
I wince.
Jacob touches my chin. It’s tender, and I think I might’ve hit it on the concrete when I went down. My scalp burns, too. There’s a phantom sensation of his fingers twisting and pulling.
“It’s okay,” he says in my ear. “We’re going back to the hotel. He can’t get to you there.”
Greyson and Miles take Knox to the hospital to get stitched up, and Steele accompanies us to the hotel. I’m shivering.
I can’t stop shivering.
“He was going to take me and do something terrible to Knox,” I whisper.
They trade a glance.
“What was that?”
