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"You better fix it. You've been a miserable mess without her this week," he remarks, challenging me.
"Fuck you," I retort, frustration bubbling.
"No, fuck you," he shoots back, our banter momentarily alleviating the heaviness in the room.
"You're weird."
We leave it at that, the unspoken understanding hanging in the air.
I have one of the most important days of my life tomorrow. Time to win Sutton back and bring home that Frozen Four title.
Avoiding hasn't served me well, and maybe confronting issues head-on has always been the answer.
Damn, only time will reveal the truth.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
SUTTON
This isn't at allwhat I expected when Elliott asked me to accompany him to the concession stand. As far as I'm concerned, he's holding me hostage, and it's completely against my will.
"Just wait a little longer," he urges, his grip firm but gentle.
I push back, struggling against his chest. "I don't want to see him," I protest, my anxiety mounting.
"You wouldn't have come if you didn't want to," he reasons. "And stop fighting me. Someone is going to think I'm kidnapping you!"
Defeated, I slump back against him, muttering pathetically, "No, no, no. Let me go."
"Just listen to what he has to say," Elliott implores.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Lincoln making his way toward us, his expression caustic. Panic courses through me.
"I'm so embarrassed!" I exclaim. "Please, don't make me."
Elliott had been doing so well at supporting me through this ordeal. He's usually great like that, someone I can always count on. He's a ride-or-die friend, the kind you want in your corner. But now, suddenly, it feels like he's turning his back on me when I need him the most, leaving me right in the line of fire.
"Well, I lied," he taunts, a sly grin on his face. Like any older brother, he never misses an opportunity to tease me.
"You jerk! I'm so frustrated with you right now," I retort, my anger getting the best of me. But I quickly recognize that I need to calm down. The fury coursing through my body is unlike anything I've ever felt before. I can't seem to stop the vulgar words that escape my lips. My brother deserves my anger, but I can't help but feel sorry for the innocent bystanders inadvertently caught in the crossfire of my foul language.
"Okay, you calm down, because our boy only has a few minutes to talk," he says, his choice of words leaving me perplexed. Why is he talking like that?
"He is not my boy! Or yours!" I protest, vehemently denying any connection between us and Lincoln.
"We'll see about that. Give him a chance, and if you decide against him, I'll beat him up," my brother offers, and in that moment, I can feel the tension drain from my body. It's comforting to know that my brother has my back, even if he's being an instigator. "Yeah, okay. That sounds good," I finally concede.
* * *
LINCOLN
I thought that asshole was on my side. As I approach them, I direct my attention to Sutton.
"Thank you for giving me a chance," I tell her, noticing her tensing when she hears my voice.
Elliott, believing that she won't make a run for it, releases her and gradually steps back. Sutton barely makes eye contact with me, her tone guarded as she asks, "What did you want to say?"
I struggle to read her mood, making this conversation even more challenging. "I'm sorry," I manage to choke out.
