Page 140 of Unloved

“Carmen—”

“Freddy,” she says, her head slumping into her hands. She’s embarrassed, has been the whole time… but I’m only now realizing it’smeshe’s embarrassed of. “I think you need to go home.”

Toren’s eyes flash, golden flames, as he stops short. “You got something to say?”

“I thought we were… I thought we were together.” The words sound as stupid as they feel, and I rub my face, tears wet against my cheeks.

“Why? Do you?” I get closer, our bodies so near it looks like we’re whispering game plans, not skirting the edges of a brawl. “Who was it? The guy? Or the redhead—”

“It was fun, Freddy,” Carmen says, voice sharp. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’re—that’s not what I need.”

She turns on her heel and heads back into her grand house, callingfor her husband. I keep my head ducked, humiliation blazing on my face while I stand on the wide front porch in some rich neighborhood like a lost, sad puppy.

Without hesitation, Toren slams me back against the boards and grabs me by the collar.

“Get off it, superstar. You’re on dangerousfuckingground. That’s off-limits.”

He lets me go, starting to skate away—and I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want to fight or because I went too far, though I’m leaning toward the latter.

Either way, I’m too desperate for something to get the gnawing under my skinout.

I shove him a little harder as he passes me again, grabbing his collar to be clear in my intentions.

“Hit me,” I snap. Toren’s eyes go a little wide, and a strange smile bleeds across his face.

“Hey,” Rhys calls, ending the play, rushing toward us. He’s been more irritated with Toren since the Harvard game weekend but won’t tell any of us why. “Back off it.”

He’s snapping at Kane, not me, the instigator.

“Fuck off, Koteskiy,” Kane says lazily over his shoulder.

“You wanna fight someone, you can fight with me,” Rhys says, which makes me feel slightly embarrassed knowingI’mthe one who wants to fight.

Does it piss Kane off that everyone assumes he’s the one trying to fight? Does he feel the same way I do when people call me aplayboy, the school slut?

“Yeah?” Kane laughs, mildly distracted by our captain while he keeps ahold of me. “I don’t know, Rhys, seems like you’re all bark and your girlfriend’s all bite.”

Rhys jumps toward us—I’ve almostneverseen him fight, but the mention of Sadie has him furious, tossing his gloves down.

“Stop,” Bennett snaps, sliding into the fray. He rips off his cage. “Back off—all of you.” He yanks Rhys back, pulling him away. “Go cool off. You too, Kane.”

“Nah.” Toren sneers, finally releasing my jersey and tossing his gloves off. “Our pretty superstar needs this. Right?”

“Let’s go,” I snarl.

“Hurting, huh?” Toren huffs with a Cheshire cat grin.

“Just fucking hit me, asshole.”

“Sure,” Kane smirks, grabbing my collar and jerking me forward. “But it won’t make you feel any better. Trust me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious,” Toren says, jerking me again. “I’ve been doing this for years.”

“And?”

“And what? Still feels like I got shot in the fucking stomach and I’m bleeding out.” He lands a hit square to my abdomen, but I tense, seeing it coming. “It never stops, and it never hurts less.”

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