Page 37

Chapter 37

Aiden

Something hard and heavy lands on my back, shifting my blurry vision from the rows of alcohol lined up on shelves behind the bar counter. Cameron’s face swims in front of me. I smile. “Hey, man.”

“You look like shit,” he mumbles, dropping on the stool beside me. I hear a rattling and see Glen, the bartender, drop something in Cameron’s palm that looks suspiciously like my car fob. “Thanks for calling me.”

“It’s the least I could do. We can’t have our star player picking up a DUI before nationals, can we?” Glen replies, sliding a bottle of water toward me.

“I told you, I’m good.” I push the water back to him.

Cameron grabs it, then takes my arm. “Let’s go.”

Shaking his hold on me, I lash him with my fiercest glare. “I said, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, which is why Glen cut you off and called my phone. Ruined my night. Just as I was about to get lucky, by the way.”

My expression transforms with a shit-eating grin. “Holy fuck, dude. Finally! I thought you’d planned on taking this celibate vow to the grave.”

“I just might, considering the stink face she gave me when I called for a rain check. Thank you, man. The most skillful cock-blocker, even from miles away.”

He’s joking but I’m not too wasted to miss the trace of anger in his tone. Pulling myself up from the stool, I flash him what I hope is a remorseful look. “I’d never intentionally come between you and your girl, you know that. I’m sorry.”

My response only makes it worse, I think, for the anger intensifies, hardening his features. “Do I really know that, Aiden?”

“Huh?” My head draws back with surprise. “I thought that was a given. I’d never do anything to mess with your shit, dude.”

He gives me a long, hard, vicious stare, then shakes his head. “Whatever.”

“No, no, no.” I grab his shoulder as he moves off. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” He brushes me off, then pockets my fob, smiling now. “Are we going or not?”

“Cam, if you have something to say, just fucking say it.” I’ve known him long enough to tell that smile is as fake as those boobs sitting on that busty blonde behind him.

“I said, nothing,” he snaps. “Now, come on; let’s get you sober enough to come back for your ride.”

Deciding not to push it—for now, I follow him out the bar. Cameron eases into conversation about the game, then tells me about the antics of the team while they were hanging out at Mickey’s. He gets tight-lipped when I ask him about the girl he met, muttering that he doesn’t want to jinx anything.

“Well, if I haven’t fucked it up already,” he adds.

“Once again, I’m sorry—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighs. “Sometimes, that’s not enough to fix things.”

“Look, I can give her a call if you’d like, try to smooth things over—”

“Hell to the fucking no.” He says it with such venom that I’m forced to twist in the seat and gape at him, completely bewildered.

“It’s obvious I’m missing something,” I say. “Spill, Cam.”

After a long, tense beat, he sighs deeply. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. That’s all.”

“Like?”

“Like I don’t want to talk about it.” He presses the clicker for his front gate. “Let’s focus on getting something warm in your stomach. Can’t have you suffering from alcohol poisoning or some shit a week before the finals, can we?”

“Dude, I’m barely tipsy,” I point out.

He slams the car door and falls in step with me as we approach his front door. “We both know alcohol has a creeping effect.”

“Touché,” I mumble.

I follow him to his side of the house, where I throw myself on the couch while Cameron empties out his pockets onto the center table. He eyes me while placing my fob down. “Don’t get any ideas and call an Uber,” he warns. “You’re not getting back to that car until you’re good and sober.”

At my blank stare, he swipes it up. “Better yet, let me not leave temptation in your way.”

“I’m not drunk, Cam. Shit,” I grumble as he walks out. Knowing for a fact that I’ll be sleeping here tonight, I take my shoes off and reach for his iPad. The only thing I’m tempted to do is call Scarlett, just to hear her voice. It’s torture, not knowing how she’s doing. I don’t know how, but I’m going to make the Pierces give me a chance, even if it means living on their doorstep. Yes, I’m that desperate.

And yes, I still feel betrayed by what she did, but I wouldn’t even want my sworn enemy to endure what she’s going through, especially since it all started with me. We might never even be friends, but whatever I can do to help her recover, I will.

Maybe then, only then will it ease the heavy guilt living inside me.

I enter Cameron’s password as I’m about to select the playlist, a message pops up on the screen. Typical Cam, logging into every messenger app on every device he owns. He keeps arguing about the rationale behind that serious risk to his privacy, but I’m not sold—

My index finger pauses mid-swipe. I scan the preview of the message, then open it.

Ryan: I’m done waiting for that money, dipshit. Pay up, or I’ll tell the entire campus what you made me do to that girl.

Puzzled, I scroll up, each flick of my finger delivering stings of shock up and down my spine as I read on.

No, no, no. Fuck no.

Cam?

With weakened knees, I drop my ass to the couch, gaping at the screen, waiting for my scrambled brain to make sense of what I’m seeing. There’s no way. No fucking way. Not my best friend. Not the guy I’ve known since I was six years old.

The phone call to security- Cameron .

Our missing skates- Cameron .

Noah’s money being stolen- Cameron .

Injuring Milo- Cameron .

Worst of them all, is seeing the evidence of him orchestrating that attack on Scarlett earlier tonight. Something sinks in and I rub my face. While on the ride over, not once did Cameron ask how Scarlett was doing. I should’ve picked up on that.

The only question on my mind as I rise up from the couch and storm through the door is, why ?

A lead-like sensation rests heavy in my gut all the way downstairs, right into the kitchen.

Where I find Cameron dispensing drops of clear liquid from a bottle into a teacup. He startles when he sees me coming. The bottle falls to the floor with a crash that pierces the silence, intensifying the rapidly-rising tension.

Cameron pats his chest, sighing loudly. “Fucking hell, Aiden. Size eleven feet and I still can’t hear you coming.”

Ignoring his attempt to joke, I jerk my head toward the cup. “What’s that?”

He shrugs. “Just something to get that alcohol out of your system so you can drive home.”

“Or, maybe I can call an Uber, then get my car tomorrow. I’m not that far gone that I need a concoction, do I?”

“It’s not a concoction, dumbass,” he replies amusingly. “It’s Mom’s herbal tea.”

“Laced with, what?” I dip, lifting a shard of glass, but there’s nothing written on it. “What did you put in the tea, Cam?”

“Something to help you relax.” He brushes me aside and hurries to pick up the broken glass. I sniff the air around where the liquid had spilled, but there’s no smell. “Why the questions, anyway? Just drink the damn thing.”

“And then what? Will I wake up from a coma a year from now, or would I even wake up at all?” I ask calmly.

His brows wiggle from a sudden frown. “What are you talking about?”

If I hadn’t seen these messages or witnessed him trying to poison me with whatever the fuck he slipped in my tea, I’d believe that confusion on his face. He’s fucking good. My enemy, hiding in plain sight all this time.

Still calm on the outside, though my insides are burning up, I reach behind and pull the tablet from my waistband. “What did I do to offend you, Cam?”

His expression pales as he eyes the device bouncing in my hand. “What are you doing with that?”

“Answer me.” I draw closer.

Cameron swallows. “Give me the iPad, Aiden.”

I chuck it at his chest and his body flies backward, colliding with the fridge. “Why the fuck did you do this, Cam?”

An unexpected smirk brightens his face as he scoots away from me. “What did I do wrong, huh? You got what you deserve, nothing more.”

“What. The fuck. Did I do to you?” I enunciate firmly, my patience wearing thin. I don’t give a fuck that I’m standing in his kitchen. I’ll beat him to a shell of himself, right where he fucking stands.

Cameron throws up his hands. “If you want to play dumb, fine, I’ll say it anyway. You fucked my girl, Aiden.”

His response brings me to an abrupt halt. “ I did what? ”

“Are you really going to stand there and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“Cameron, I’m seriously fucking confused. You don’t have a girl.”

“Yeah, thanks to you,” he snaps. “Chelsea Brenner, remember her?”

My brain hurries to put a face to the name. “The psycho who damaged my car and tried to break into my house last year. What does she have to do with anything?”

“She was my girlfriend, the one I told you about,” he replies.

I stare at him blankly. My brain has gotten too much to process in one night. Nothing makes fucking sense. “The girl you were hellbent on not letting me meet until things were solid? Dude, you didn’t even describe her. How the fuck was I to know who she was?”

“Because I told you her name,” he throws back stiffly.

“Seriously, Cam? I was in a bad space last year. You know that. Casey and I had just broken up—fuck, I didn’t even remember my own name sometimes. Did you really think that I’d knowingly sleep with someone you cared for?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” He cocks his head, malice filling his eyes. “You’ve always been selfish, thinking of yourself, trying to one-up me. You couldn’t handle knowing a girl like Chelsea would want to settle for me, so what did you do? You fucking ruined her.”

“I slept with her once. One time ,” I emphasize.

“Surely it was enough to drive her bat-shit crazy, enough to break up with me.” He laughs dryly. “The funny thing is, I was quite willing to settle for your sloppy seconds. Despite the fact she’d been holding out on sex, saying how much she’d rather get to know me first, even after finding out she gave it up to you in less than one night, I wanted to make it work. I wanted to put it in the past, even after you both betrayed me. She didn’t.”

I’m starting to think Chelsea and Cameron deserve each other. They’re both crazy as fuck. “Get it through your thick head. I did not know who she was!”

Cameron stares right at me, but it seems his mind is far away. “All our fucking lives, you’ve had the best of everything. People adored you. I was nothing but your glorious sidekick, living in your shadow. And the one time… the one fucking time…”

His eyes now fill with tears as his expression clears. “There were dozens of other girls at that party. Why didn’t you choose someone else?”

“Cam, you need help,” I whisper. I’m not even pissed off anymore. I’m not sure at what point he lost a screw and that makes me a terrible friend for not noticing. Maybe he’s right about one thing: in the past, I cared about no one else but me.

“And you need to pay for messing with one good thing in my life. Even if it kills me, you’re not getting to the finals. You’re not going to the NHL, Aiden. I swear to God.”

“This was your end game all along.” It’s not a question. It makes perfect sense now. Cameron thought I destroyed his life and thought it fit to return the favor. Everything he has done was an attempt to throw off my game and it almost worked. Almost. I don’t care what state of mind he’s in right now, I’ll ruin him before he stops me.

“Chelsea wasn’t the best thing that happened to you. She was the worst. It only took a couple drinks and smooth talk for her to drop her panties—”

Cameron growls and swings at me. His fist misses my face by an inch, then I double back and slam him into the fridge, my arm pressed at his throat. He gurgles, face going red as he unsuccessfully tries to slacken my grip.

“You almost killed an innocent girl,” I hiss. “All because you can’t see the truth. Chelsea was only using you, for whatever reason. You should’ve been happy I helped you dodge that bullet, instead of trying to ruin my life—”

A sudden click in my ear makes me freeze. Even before I felt the cold iron pressed against the back of my head, I knew what it was.

“Release my son, Aiden,” Mrs. Randolph whispers, her voice quivering despite the firm hold against my head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

My hands fly up and she eases off me. Cautiously, I turn my front toward her. “Cameron needs help, Mrs. Randolph. I’m not sure if you overheard—”

“He has been getting help,” she interrupts, the gun still tight in her grip, though pointing to the floor. “Cameron has been on antidepressants since his father died.”

“What?”

Ignoring my outburst, she turns to him. “Don’t tell me you’ve stopped taking them again.”

Again?

Cameron sighs harshly. “I told you; I hate how they made me feel.”

“And what did I tell you would happen the next time, Cam? Did you think I was bluffing?”

“Mom—”

“Don’t look at me like that after putting someone in the fucking hospital. You’re going. Either that, or I call the cops.”

“Going where?” I ask, especially curious with how my ex-best friend is spazzing out. Sobbing, he sinks to the floor, both hands clasped in a prayer pose.

“Where I should’ve taken him when he had his first psychotic break. Keystone,” she replies.

The same behavioral health center they’d sent Chelsea.

“Mom, please,” Cameron begs.

Mrs. Randolph sighs. “Cam, you’re not the only one who lost your dad. Like you, I miss him like crazy. It still hurts like hell. Unlike you, I don’t let it define how I operate, how I treat people, even how I treat myself. I don’t wallow in self-pity.”

“Do you think I want to wallow?” he asks, pushing himself to stand. “I want to move on, but I don’t know how.”

His mother reaches out and pats his cheek. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out at Keystone. I’ll talk to the college and have them work out your last semester. It’s up to you to decide on whether you’ll take those courses from a cushy suite or a jail cell, honey.”

Cameron’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. “Keystone,” he finally mumbles.

“Good choice.” She pats his cheek again. “Now, get upstairs and let me speak to Aiden for a bit.”

He pushes off, then stops halfway to the door and turns to me. “If you truly didn’t know it was her, I’m sorry,” he says.

It sounds like a back-handed apology, but I nod anyway. I’m too mentally drained to argue.

As he climbs the stairs, Mrs. Randolph turns to me. “The girl he attacked; I need her contact information.”

“For?” I ask, the unexpected request making me frown.

Mrs. Randolph reads the suspicion on my face, scoffing softly. “I’m not my son, Aiden. I simply want to make amends.”

“By paying her off,” I finish. “We both know she’s going to press charges once she finds out.”

She pushes up to her full, five-one height, her fierce expression adding another two inches. “And we both know my father runs this city. Those charges will go nowhere.”

She’s right, but it’s still fucked up.

“Cameron will get the help he needs, and she’ll get a decent settlement. It’s a win-win,” she goes on.

With a conceding sigh, I reach for my phone. It’s no use arguing on behalf of someone who took money to end our affair. Whatever Scarlett decides is totally up to her.

“Thank you.” She hands me back the phone. “Aiden, I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us. Cameron has been through a lot.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, ordering an Uber. My car fob is still upstairs, but I’m in no mood to see Cameron right now.

Nor do I want to stay in this house another minute.

As I exit the kitchen, she calls after me. I stop, not turning.

“I’m sorry for pulling my gun on you,” she says.

Without replying, I walk out, not taking a breath until I step into the night where I suck a lungful of cold air in, breathing it out on a long, weary sigh when a sudden realization hits me like a slap in the face.