Page 95 of Cheap Shot
I shake my head. “No. I didn’t.”
She’s right behind me now, her hand grazing my elbow in a featherlight touch. Her fingers trail down my arm until they find my wrist, wrapping around it. Her grip is steady, solid, and real when everything around me feels warped and wrong, but she’s here, steady as gravity.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I murmur, my eyes clenching tightly shut.
The feel of her thumb moving in a slow circle over my skin helps soothe the rage inside me. It doesn’t go away completely, but it's a little more controllable than before. My chest feels hollowed out. My arms twitch with the urge to throw something, break something. My brain’s moving too fast to keep up with, and I still can’t string two clear thoughts together. I feel like I’m on the edge of something sharp, and if I move the wrong way, I’ll tumble straight into it.
“You didn’t,” she responds, but there’s a tremor in her voice she doesn’t quite hide.
She’s quiet for a second before taking a step closer, her chest brushing my arm, her hand finding the curve of my back. Her body is warm and soft and grounded against mine. I sink into it without meaning to. My hand finds her waist, fingers spreading across the dip just above her hip. I grip her like she’s the only thing tethering me to the ground. And maybe she is.
“You don’t have to hold it all together,” she whispers.
“I do. If I don’t, I don’t know what’s underneath,” I rasp as she leans her forehead against my shoulder.
“Then let me hold some of it.”
My jaw aches from clenching. I bury my face in her hair and breathe her in—clean and warm and real. I don’t deserve this, but I hold on anyway because for one more minute, I need to believe I’m still someone she wants to be close to.
* * *
I told Michele to head back to the ice before me, not wanting to bring any more attention to us than necessary, and she agreed. Neither of us wants to be on the receiving end of her dad’s ire just yet.
Her footsteps fade down the corridor while I stay back in the shadows. With Michele’s help and another pill, the numbness I’ve been chasing since Jensen appeared on the ice has returned, but I’m still a little jumpy.
I check my watch, satisfied that Michele has been gone long enough not to raise suspicion, when I hear an unfamiliar voice.
“Hey.”
A familiar-looking kid—maybe twelve or thirteen—stands near the vending machine with his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. I squint, trying to place his face, when it comes to me. His name is Darius. I met him when Beau dragged me to the lacrosse game a few weeks ago. He must be here for the event and somehow got turned around in the tunnels.
“How long were you standing there?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“Long enough. Don’t worry, I didn’t get a picture or anything.”
Easier said than done. If it were a reporter or a puck bunny, there are things I have that they may want. I have nothing to offer a teenager. I have a feeling a signed jersey is of no interest to him, based on the amount of Timberwolves swag he’s wearing.
“You lost?”
“Nope.” A sharp and knowing grin spreads across his face. “I was following Michele. She said she was going to the bathroom, but I assumed she was coming to see you since she ducked out around the same time as your confrontation on the ice.”
I rub my hand down his face. “Look, this needs to stay between us, okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Totally. Thing is… I could keep it a secret. If I had a reason.”
“A reason?” I question, my eyes narrowing, wanting to know what he could want.
“Yeah.” Darius shrugs, the picture of calm. “I don’t have a big brother, but I want one.”
“Can you just share with your friend? He’s Beau’s little brother, right?”
“Beau has a big mouth. I need someone who can keep a secret and won’t rat me out to my aunt.”
“You have a point there, but what does this have to do with me?”
“Beau said Coach Mercer is making you take part in the program. So I figured you could be my big brother.”
“Aren’t I already doing enough at this event?” I mutter, knowing that I should stay far away from these kids. I’m having a hard enough time keeping myself together. I shouldn’t be responsible for anyone else.
