Page 5

FOUR

AUGUSTE

Goddammit. If my phone vibrates one more time, I’m going to throw it out the window. The group chat is blowing up and as usual the pack is going wild.

Jayden

lol @bruceyboy still can’t believe you really took out Coach’s daughter??

Matheo

broooo it was like a sniper shot

Erik

heard it from the other side of the ice

Jayden

she okay though?

Erik

I mean she walked out... *eventually*

Matheo

lmao

Jayden

you’re dead bro. pack your bags

I stare at the screen and grind my teeth.

I’m done with these assholes as I leave the chat and throw my phone down on the bed next to me.

Trying to ignore the different messages coming through from each of the guys, I turn up the real estate show on TV.

It’s a wasted effort because the direct messages are coming in thicker and faster.

When I move to switch my phone off, I notice the assholes have added me to the group chat again—go COMETS go

Erik

The fuck did he leave for

Dylan

Because you’re a pack of assholes

Thank you, Daddy. Dylan is always the one to pen these animals in. It’s why he’s Captain.

Dylan

But seriously @bruceyboy … you might wanna start wearing Kevlar. That girl’s gonna be the death of your season.

Jayden

pew pew pew

Auguste

drop it

Jayden

oh come on, it was a little funny

Auguste

I said drop it

The silence that follows is the most peace I've gotten all fucking evening. My head’s already spinning with how bad this could screw me over before the season even starts. The last thing I need is a bunch of jackasses lighting it on fire.

Then Matheo starts typing again.

Matheo

Bro really woke up and chose violence took out the coach’s daughter like it was a side quest

Jayden

Ooooh, side quests… Eli and I totally smashed that Fortnite mission you were crying about

Erik

Buuuuuuurn

Matheo

shut it dickhead

Erik

Is that all you got…

Jayden

why are you distracted?

Dylan

if you’re fucking texting us during a hookup…

Matheo

maybe

It’s fucked up, and it’s so on brand for Rio that it makes me question Coach’s decision to make him assistant captain over Jayden.

The chat goes quiet again… and then Matheo starts typing again.

Fuck.

Matheo

joke…setting up new cams at mine

Jayden

thought you already had the doggie cams set up

Matheo

At the old place, yeah. It was hassle taking all the cams out of every room…

Erik

you left the whole setup?

Matheo

yeah. figured the new tenant could use it. lol

I freeze.

The new tenant. Courtney.

A knot coils in my stomach, and something sharp slithers down my spine. There’s no way I can act on the information. No way.

Except… Courtney’s there now—alone. And I'm here, scrolling through the links search in the group chat. I know Matheo shared it before, when he wanted to show us the fucking state his sister’s dog left his closet after he chewed through most of his expensive leather loafers.

The instant I find the IP link, the temptation hits hard.

I couldn’t possibly, though .

That would be totally inappropriate and illegal . Besides, I’m not a creep.

Courtney Nilsson is not my responsibility. Sure, I injured her. But it was an accident. She was on my blindside… Everything I could do to make up for it is done. I carried her to Doc’s table. I drove her home.

Anything more… checking in on her through the cameras she’s not aware of…

No. No fucking way.

Can’t go that far.

That’s a line. A real one. One I know I cannot cross. Can. Not. Cross.

Anyway, Courtney was fine when I dropped her off.

Mostly fine.

Although, the bandages around her head did say different. Even if she tried to act like she wasn’t in pain, I saw the way she winced when she moved too fast. Every time I hit a pothole in the asphalt. Had to break a little too hard.

She said she was okay. I tell myself. But what if she’s not?

What if she wakes up dizzy? Sick?

What if she passes out and no one’s there?

What if I could’ve stopped something sinister from happening?

What if I don’t check... and something does ?

Rubbing my face with both hands, I start to pace, my jaw locked tight enough to ache.

“You shouldn’t even be thinking about this,” I mutter to myself. “It’s not just reckless—it’s wrong. And if Coach finds out then you will be done. Don’t. Be. Stupid.”

I pocket my phone and head to the kitchen for some water. Maybe some snacks. Whoever says anxiety eating isn’t a thing, they’re fucking wrong.

I’m rummaging through my refrigerator when my phone starts going off again.

Jayden:

y’all remember Fischer from the Aces?

Erik

the one who took a puck to the face?

Jayden

yeah. seemed fine. Brain bleed. ICU three hours later.

My chest tightens like a vice .

Fuck.

I mute the chat. Toss my phone on the counter so I don’t dive for the link again.

With a deep inhale, I close the refrigerator and opt for the bottle of water on the counter. Next to my phone.

“Doc said she’s fine,” I say on a slow exhale. “She looked okay.”

But the what-ifs are clawing at my brain when I head back to the bedroom, chugging down half the large bottle of water on the way. I throw the phone and water on the bed as I deviate to the ensuite—I need a piss and to wash my face so I can force myself to switch off and go to sleep.

That’s what I’m going to do. A couple drops of melatonin later, I’m teasing my nervous curl free of knots before I head straight to bed. I don’t even touch my phone. I leave it where it fell on the other side of the bed with the bottle of water.

I’m good. I’m great. I’m?—

The fucker goes off. Again. Once. Then after a beat it buzzes incessantly.

Are you shitting me?

I pick it up, about to toss it when Coach’s team chat comes up with a message from him .

Coach Nilsson

REMINDER:

Be mindful of your surroundings during drills.

That’s all.

My stomach drops.

I sit up.

There’s no point in talking sense into myself anymore. I’m done. That message was the last straw.

Coach has caused this. He’s pushed me over the edge and I’m diving through the group thread again. Scrolling back through Matheo’s bullshit.

There. One of the links he used to show us his dogs knocking over furniture.

I tap it.

After a few seconds the feed blinks to life. It’s grainy at first. Takes me a some time to make out the room. Then the focus clears and… there she is .

Courtney is on the couch. Headphones on—they’re bigger than her head, stretched across her forehead so they’re clear of the injury I inflicted on her.

I rake my eyes over her body, taking in the oversized shirt pooled at the top of her thighs with the way her feet are up on the back of the couch. Meanwhile her arms are cuddling her iPad to her chest… fucking adorable .

“No. Hell no.” I kill the stream, drop my phone to my chest and stare up at my ceiling.

I make it to twenty-three seconds in my head before I pick my phone up again.

My finger hovers. My mind races.

“Just making doubly sure.”

Better safe than sorry. Right?

Switching off the TV, I send the link to my MacBook, set it up on my bedside table, and pull the screen just enough that I can see her properly when I zoom in.

Not the whole feed. Just her silhouette.

Then before I settle back into my pillow, I activate my Do Not Disturb and place my phone on charge.

That same buzz from earlier crackles in the air. The static sparking a thrill unlike any other I’ve felt through me.

It takes almost an hour for my heart to fall back into a steady rhythm. The whole time I watch the screen. The whole time I focus on the rise and fall of her chest, the up and down of the iPad.

It’s like that my breathing evens out. My thoughts start to haze, and I fall asleep.

I fall asleep watching her breathe.

I woke up to a black screen. With all the bullshit last night, I forgot to plug my MacBook in when I set it on my bedside table.

Courtney was the first thought that popped into my head when my alarm went off. After I found my laptop dead, I checked my phone. Only to find the couch empty. Blanket folded. iPad on the coffee table along with her over-ear headphones.

With the link being only for that one camera, it’s not like I could look for her in the others, and that’s got my chest all kinds of tight.

Checking my watch again, I decide to give Courtney another ten or so minutes before I knock. It’s only just gone seven in the morning, I’m certain she shouldn’t be contemplating going to work today, but the little I got to know of her yesterday, I’m certain she’ll be hauling ass.

A smile tugs at my lips at the thought. I like that she’s tenacious and fiery. A go-getter.

So, that leaves me right where I’ve been the last hour or so. Standing in the hallway outside her apartment. Hood up. Hands in my pockets. Staring at her door like it’s going to open on its own.

FYI: It doesn’t.

Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing.

No, that’s a lie. I do know what I’m doing. I’m waiting.

It’s the morning after the day before. The day I knocked Coach’s daughter out with a stray puck. The day after I drove her home, walked her to her door, and watched her disappear inside.

The day after I told myself not to cross a line, then crossed it anyway when I logged into Matheo’s old doggie cams.

Just to check.

Just to be sure.

That’s what I told myself. What I’m still telling myself.

Another lie .

Because it wasn’t just about her safety.

It’s her.

Seeing her curled up with her iPad, smirking to herself every now and then. Sleep shirt barely covering her thighs…

That was my cue to tune out of the feed. I should’ve closed the laptop and walked away.

I didn’t.

Instead, I watched. Like the creep I told myself I wasn’t.

And now I’m out here. A goddamn lunatic. A man with no self-control and too many excuses.

On day two of knowing this girl. Not even knowing— meeting .

My phone buzzes in my pocket while I continue attempting to bore a hole through her door. Maybe Courtney isn’t as stubborn as I think. Maybe I’m wrong about her and this is all a self-inflicted guilt trip.