Page 7 of Die for You
Chapter 4
Damien
From the driver’s seat,I strangle the steering wheel like it killed my mother.
Next to me, Knox scrolls through his phone to find his post-game playlist to break the tense silence. In the backseat, Finn’s head lies against the headrest, eyes up to the ceiling and shut since the moment he took off his mask and closed the door behind him. He’s been checked out since we walked into that party.
Sleet pours from the night sky as fast as rain, pinging off the windshield and striking the metallic roof above our heads. Only sound is the dull swish of the wipers back and forth over the windshield, sleet glowing in the high beams and illuminating the road ahead of us, dark and slick. Shitty end to a shitty day.
My first game as captain and I barely got to enjoy it.
Why the fuck can’t my mother stay single for five goddamn seconds? I swear she’s gotta hop from one guy to the next, and they’re always the biggest pieces of shit she could possibly bring home. My father made her a magnet for assholes like him.
If I have to bruise my knuckles across this new guy’s face, I’ll do what I’ve gotta do, but I wish she’d be more like me. Say fuck it to relationships and get it through her head that it’s better tobe single than with someone who only thinks of you as a pretty face. That’s how men see her and how women see me. She knows it too, but for some reason, she hasn’t given up. She still thinks Prince Charming is out there, even when she’s met nothing but toads.
“Watch out for ice,” Knox warns.
My grip on the wheel tightens, knuckles turning white. “I know how to drive.”
Knox shifts in his seat. He’s the only one who can never sit in silence. He’s always gotta try to break the tension, slap a bandage on the problem and pretend it’s not there. Finn’s the opposite—sometimes, we don’t hear a word out of him for days.
“Finn knows sign language,” Knox blurts. “And he has asister. Did you know that?”
I shake my head. Not exactly surprising. Finn barely talks, let alone reveals anything about himself. Keeping his sister away from the Devils was smart. Wish I’d done that with my mom. I’ve had to hear way too many jokes from half the team about how much they want to fuck her.
“Was that your mom’s new boyfriend?” Knox asks.
“Not talking about it.”
The guy with salt-and-pepper hair and a trimmed beard kept his palm on my mother’s lower back even when she introduced him to me and he held out his hand. He didn’t flinch when I squeezed too hard, his smile too wide whenever he looked at my mom. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, but that doesn’t mean shit. Men never can. Most women too. People can never take their eyes off me either, but that doesn’t mean any of them want me for anything more than the pleasure they fantasize about me giving them.
Mom told me his name, but I’ve already forgotten it. He’ll be gone by next week.
On the other side of the road, a girl hurries down the sidewalk. Thin jacket doing nothing to protect her from the onslaught of the sleet, hood pulled up and long, blonde hair spilling out. She keeps her arms clutched to her chest, but she’s walking into the sleet and it’s not showing any signs of letting up.
What the fuck is she doing out here? The weather’s shitty and it’s after eleven. She must be heading back to campus from the Sigma Chi party, but she should’ve at least gotten a ride.
If I offer her one, she’ll spot three giant hockey players in the car and run screaming in the other direction.
I grit my teeth. No one can make things fucking easy for me tonight, can they?
“You know your mom’s a grown woman, right? She can take care of herself.” Knox hits Play on his phone, the first few notes instantly recognizable, and I clench my jaw. A song about a guy who wants to fuck his friend’s mom. “If she wants to get laid, she’ll get laid.”
I punch the stereo off. “Shut the fuck up, Rockefeller.”
He grins. “I’ll be your new stepdad if you want.”
From the backseat, Finn chuckles. I’m torn between punching Knox in the face and laughing, biting back the smile threatening to sneak across my lips. He’s the only person who can get away with talking shit to my face. The only person who talks shit to make you laugh, not laugh at you. “You’re an asshole.”
Too late, I spot the near-transparent patch of ice on the side of the road. Just before our tire hits it.
My throat constricts, brain going numb and mind emptying as the tires slide, the steering wheel unresponsive in my iron grip.
Shit, shit, shit?—
The car spins, rear tires kicking out and squealing. Sending us hurdling off the road into the darkness.
Every muscle in my body stiffens, bracing for impact.
