Page 50 of Fault Line

I can’t resist the urge to roll my eyes at her romantic proclamations. My sister’s always been so caught up in the idea of love, thinking that every guy she dates is “the one.” And hell, maybe they are, at least until she inevitably grows bored of them.

“Uh-huh,” I say, trying my best to sound supportive.

“He’s taking me to a dinner upstate tonight,” she says. “I can’t wait. I wish you were here to come with us.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, I can’t just take off in the middle of the term.”

“Oh, right. I forgot you’re actually doing something with your life.”

“Mhm, and I’m glad youfinallyfound someone,” I toss back.

“I hope you can meet him soon,” she says wistfully, ignoring my not-so-subtle attempt at a jab. “I think you’d really like him. Maybe when you’re finally ready for me to visit campus, I can bring Andrew along. And I promise that we won’t be in the way. I just want to spend some time with my little sister.”

I feel a pang of guilt at her words, knowing that she’s likely right. It has been a while since we’ve seen each other, and I do kind of miss her. Or I miss the idea of her. The relationship we could have had all these years if only things were normal.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” I say, doing my best to placate her.

“Okay, fine. But don’t think about it too long.”

“I won’t,” I promise, knowing that I probably will.

We say our goodbyes, and I hang up, feeling drained. I hate talking to her because it’s like she never bothers to actually listen. She’d rather steamroll right over me with her own agenda.

I let out a sigh, adjusting my hair before heading to my next class, attempting to dispel the negative energy from the conversation. As I make my way, I catch sight of Holden approaching, his hockey bag draped over one shoulder, the sunlight hitting him at the perfect angle.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Beck,” I say in lieu of a greeting, my pulse hammering at the sight of him.

“How was your day?” he asks as we fall into step, his voice laced with playful sarcasm.

“Oh, you know.” I let out a frustrated huff. “Just had a lovely chat with my sister.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”

“She just doesn’t get it,” I mutter. “She keeps bugging me about coming to visit campus, which is just not even the realm of something I’m willing to entertain. At least, not right now.”

“I get you.” He gives me a tight smile, eyes scanning over my face. “I feel the same way every time my dad tells me he’s flying over to watch me play. But with him, it’s never a fucking question; it’s always a demand.”

A surprised chuckle escapes me. “Sorry, did you just say he flies over to watch your games?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, he charters a jet over from New York sometimes.”

“Oh, right, of course. He charters a jet.” I roll my eyes, unable to hide my disbelief. “Very normal.”

“What can I say?” He lets out a low, amused breath. “He’s a big fucking fan of mine.”

“Mhm.” I give him a humorless snort, changing the subject. “You know, just so you’re aware, I finally confronted Elio. And he’s actually doing fine, so we’re all good.”

“Glad to hear it.” His dark eyes lock with mine, fingertips tracing across my upper arm, and heat rises in my cheeks. “So, would you say your stress levels are doin’ okay this week, then? No trouble sleeping?”

I work my lower lip between my teeth, craving another quick fix. “I, uh, think I might have a little trouble, actually. Tonight?”

His lips curl into a smirk. “Hm, and I might have a remedy.”

“Nine o’clock, Becker. Don’t be late.”

He leans in close, breath hot against my ear. “Wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it.”

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