Page 4

CHAPTER 3

I’m not going…or should I?

An hour late isn’t that bad. Show up, linger just long enough to keep the assholes off my back, then slip out before anyone cares.

My bare feet thud against the hardwood, each step a steady rhythm as I pace in front of my twin-size bed. I’ve walked this same path so many times this morning that the heels of my feet are starting to crack.

I told Aidric I’d watch their stupid practice, but I was under a lot of pressure and I wanted out of that locker room in one piece. And at the time, I meant it. I really did.

Now, I’m second-guessing the whole deal.

I mean, what are they going to do if I don’t show? Kill me over a missed practice? Doubtful. They act like they hold all the cards, but they only had power over me when I was trapped in that room with them. There was no place for me to go then, but now that I'm not in their demanding presence, they have no leverage.

It’s settled, I’m not going.

Still, I keep pacing, overthinking until a migraine feels inevitable.

Our dorm room is a cluttered mess. Clothes strewn all over, textbooks stacked on each desk, and the faint scent of coffee hanging in the air. Our first month here, we kept our small space tidy, but it’s since turned into a pigsty with us rushing in and out so frequently.

Brogan spends most nights with Hayes, so I’m usually here alone. I hate it. It’s too quiet. I get so wrapped up in my own thoughts, probing every life choice—every next step. I like noise. Even if I did escape it last night only to come back here and send myself into full-blown panic mode.

After the events in the Lords’ locker room last night, I put on a brave face and went to Legends like I planned. I knew Brogan would be suspicious if I didn’t go, considering I live for the nightlife. I had half of a mojito and faked cramps then caught an Uber back to our dorm. She slept at Hayes’s and, well, I didn’t sleep at all.

I got a text from Brogan five minutes ago that she was coming back to grab a change of clothes and she wanted to talk real quick. I could hide, but she has my location on her phone. So I’ll force a smile and act like everything is fine. I’ve gotten pretty good at that over the years.

I stop in front of my vanity and lean forward, drawing my fingers under my mascara-stained eyes. Probably should have left it in place so it could hide the redness from my tearstains.

I resume pacing, ready to just get this over with. She’ll either be unsuspecting, or she’ll see right through the act I’m about to put on.

The door swings open without warning, slamming against the wall. I jolt back, a sharp breath catching in my throat as my hand flies to my chest.

Brogan steps inside, dropping a laundry bag by the door before nudging it shut with her foot. “Jesus. What’s got you all jumpy?”

Your brother and his teammates—that’s what. They’re fucking psychos.

Instead of saying the thought out loud, I exhale slowly and force a shrug. “Nothing. Just thinking about the competition next month. Nerves, that’s all.”

My mind churns. I’ve been struggling with whether to tell Brogan the truth or not. Maybe she could talk some sense into Callan. But if I pull her into this, they could assume I told her what they think I heard.

Damn, I’ve really got myself into a mess here.

“Since when do you get nervous over a competition? You’re a natural with the bow. You’ve got this.”

I force a smile, but it barely touches my eyes.

She steps closer, gently taking my hands in hers. Fuck. She sees right through my facade.

“Ave,” she murmurs, her voice even softer now. “Ever since the game, you’ve been off. And I know you didn’t have cramps last night. Our cycles are synced and we’re not due for another two weeks. If this is about Evan, you can talk to me.”

If only she knew.

This is about Evan—just not in the way she thinks. It’s not about feelings or some messy breakup. It’s about the truth I can’t unhear. The Lords’ hockey team, or at least four of them, had something to do with his fall. I’m stuck between getting close to them so I can find out the truth, and insisting I know nothing while never breathing a word to another soul.

Too bad I know myself and my curiosity won't let it go. It makes sense why it kills the cat, because I have a feeling murder isn't off the table after what I heard last night.

Gentle fingers glide over the back of my hand, slow and reassuring. Brogan tilts her head slightly, eyes searching mine. “Whatever you say stays between us. You know that, right?”

I nod, playing on her assumption that I’m shook up over what happened to Evan. “It’s just so sad, ya know? I can’t help but wonder if this could have all been prevented if I hadn’t ended things with him.”My gaze drifts past her, settling on a photo collage above her bed. I can’t look her in the eye when I lie. Callan was right—I am a terrible liar.

“Avery Castle. Do not do that to yourself. Come here.” She pulls me into a hug, and for a moment, I just let myself sink into it. It’s been a while since anyone’s held me like this, and that realization plays on my emotions. Brogan is all I have right now. I keep my heart guarded, walls up, never letting anyone in, but with her, it’s harder to pretend I don’t need this.

“You did what was best for you, Ave. Besides, it’s been over a year since you ended things with him. There is no part of you that should feel any guilt over what happened.” She takes a step back so she can see my face. With downcast eyes, I blink away the tears threatening to fall. “Would it make you feel better if we went to see him later today?”

“No.” I immediately shake my head. “Not yet.”

I’m not ready to stand in that cold spot beside his bed and look down at his unconscious body, knowing what I know. Or what I think I know, anyways. I keep telling myself I had to have misunderstood, but those words play on repeat in my head.

“If Evan Sanders comes to, it’s all of our asses on the line. You will take care of him.”

My heart drops to my stomach, yet again. It’s not only what they may have done, but, more importantly, what they plan to do next.

“You sure?” Brogan asks again.

I nod. “I’m sure. I don’t think I can handle seeing him like that.”

I don’t tell her it’s also because I hate hospitals and going in one will only make me feel sicker than I already do. Brogan’s my best friend, and I tell her damn near everything, but some things are mine to keep. Even if someone else already knows my secret and has used it against me more times than I can count.

Someone like Callan fucking Cromwell.

He won’t tell me how he found out about my mom’s illness, but he knows.

Aside from him, everyone assumes I come from stuck-up, rich parents who are too busy working to check in on their daughter. And for one of them, that’s true. What they don’t know is that the other one barely recognizes me anymore.

Or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t recognize her.

I still remember the vivid smell of the hospital when my mom was first admitted. I can still hear the shrill sound of her screams.

“It’s okay, Mom.” I run my fingers through her thinning hair, my touch usually enough to bring her back, but not this time.

Her eyes dart past me as if I’m a stranger. “You’re not my daughter,” she cries, her voice frantic. “Give me back my daughter!”

Tears spill down my cheeks, soft drops hitting the white sheet draped over her fragile body. “Mom, it’s me. It’s Avery. Your daughter.”

“Liar!” Her scream ricochets off the hospital walls. “You’re not my daughter. You’re him!”

I swallow the knot in my throat. “Who, Mom? Who do you think I am?”

Her eyes blaze with fury, locking on to mine with a hatred that doesn’t belong to her. “You’re Satan!” she shrieks.

Before I can react, she snatches a plastic food tray from the bedside table. It all happens so fast, I don’t see it coming until she slams it against the metal bed rail, causing it to splinter into two jagged pieces.

“Mom, stop!” I lunge forward, reaching for the broken piece, but I’m too slow.

The sharp edge plunges into my arm, pain igniting as she drags it downward, tearing through my skin like paper.

I can still feel the warmth of my own blood trickling down my arm. I rub my scar, feeling the raised skin—a painful reminder of who she is now.

Only a few people know my mom has spent the last six years in a psychiatric facility after suffering a psychotic break she has yet to overcome. We were told she had one of the most severe forms of paranoia they’d ever seen. We knew her mental health was on the decline, but we never could have guessed how bad it really was.

I didn’t blame her then, and I don’t today. I try to see her as much as they’ll allow, even if she is heavily sedated. I like to think she knows who I am and comprehends what I’m saying to her.

As for my dad, he hasn’t been to the facility in over a year. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s inconvenient, or if it’s because in his mind, he has better things to do with his time. I think we’ve both just been pretending for far too long. We’ve convinced ourselves she’ll get better one day and everything will go back to normal. But as more time passes, I’m beginning to realize this is who she is now.

If only I had a sibling to share this pain with, maybe life wouldn’t feel so lonely. I always held on to the hope that once I left for college, I could finally experience a normal life. For a while, it was nice pretending, but my heart is still heavy as I grieve the loss of my parents who are still very much alive. They’re just not the same anymore. None of us are.

“Earth to Avery.” Brogan snaps her fingers in front of my face, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll go with you.”

“Of course,” I tell her. “And thank you.” I hug her again, unsure what I would do without her. This friendship literally saved my life. One minute I was walking down the hall, plotting my own death, and the next, I was heading to class with a new best friend.

“Shit,” Brogan huffs as she steals a glance at her watch. “I need to go. I told Hayes I’d meet him in the student center for coffee.”

“Go, go.” I give her a gentle nudge. “I’ll be fine.”

Skepticism flickers in her eyes. “Promise?”

“Of course.” I force a smile. “I promise.”

Standing with my arms crossed tightly over my chest, I watch her turn the knob and push the door open. As she steps aside, my heart skips a beat, and my face hardens. Framed by the doorway stands none other than Callan Cromwell.