Page 16

Chapter 15

Zach

Viktor and I trudge across campus, rolling our eyes at all the stupid Valentine’s Day bullshit going on. Coach Harper spent time with me after practice, running through modified puck-handling drills to help with my grip. But then he had a mandatory meeting, so Coach and Viktor’s date got canceled.

And me . . . Well, this love shit just grates on my nerves. Never been into the whole flowers and candy nonsense. Doesn’t serve a purpose.

My other two friends have dates, though I’m not certain what’s going on with Connor. Sure, he shoved his tongue down Veronica’s mouth outside the sports complex. But I wouldn’t be surprised if the police find her body floating in the ocean tomorrow morning.

None of us can get a read on that whole relationship, and he won’t talk about it either. Just says they’re together .

Looking at some of the couples smiling as they walk by hand-in-hand makes me feel . . . hollow. I flex my left hand as we head back to our dorm room, trying to work out the stiffness.

“Still numb?”

I grunt, staring ahead at the empty sidewalk as my boots crunch against the salt crystals meant to melt patches of ice hidden under a dusting of snow.

Viktor shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You can trust Becks. He’s going to do whatever he can to help.”

“Until he gets jealous or pissed, then exposes my issues.”

“Zach, he won’t.” Viktor nudges me with his shoulder. “Speaking of jealousy, the little cockroach doesn't like me touching you, huh?”

I growl low in my throat, the sound more animalistic than I intend. “Don’t call him that.”

Viktor stops mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up. “Oh, is this a two-way street? You have a thing for him too?”

“No.”

“Bullshit.” He narrows his eyes, grinning like a psychotic clown.

My lips press into a tight line as I focus on how the lampposts cast a dim, golden glow over the frost-covered trees, their branches bare and clawing at the night sky. But he's right. No matter how hard I try to avoid it, Merci’s somehow gotten under my skin in a way I still can’t explain.

“Something happened. I can see it all over your face.”

“Fuck off.”

Viktor places a hand on my shoulder, his expression soft. “Zach . . . come on. Talk to me. Let’s try to make sense of what you’re struggling with.”

My jaw clenches. Sometimes it pisses me off how he understands I might need help trying to make sense of shit because my brain won’t let me do it on my own. “We kissed.”

“Saw that one coming.”

I turn, glaring at him. Fuckhead promised not to make fun, but I caught the goddamn lilt in his voice.

He shrugs. “Just saying, it’s not a surprise, especially after you jerked him off—which, by the way, there was no reason to.”

“Whatever, asshole.”

He snorts. “You didn’t like seeing him in Raiyne’s jersey either. Bet he did it to piss you off, probably make you jealous, which he succeeded at.”

My brows furrow, nose scrunching.

Viktor shakes his head. “All right, let’s walk through this. How did you feel when you saw him in the jersey shaking his ass? Why did you swing your stick at the plexiglass?”

I rub the back of my neck, trying to remember all the sensations. “Hot, like more than just from skating. My heart was slamming inside my chest. I was squeezing my stick tighter and breathing faster. Just wanted to rip that shit off him.”

“That, my friend, is jealousy.”

“You mean anger.”

He pats the center of my back. “The two are closely related. Therefore, they give off the same physical responses. Same way Merci looked like he was going to tear my head off. He was mad, but it stemmed from his jealousy.”

I sigh, staring straight ahead. If only some of this shit could be simple for me. “I don’t want to hurt him, and I hate when his eyes get watery.”

“What happened?”

“Not sure.” I stop walking this time, turning to face him, the words sticking in my throat, heavy and tangled, like trying to pull a stubborn knot apart. “He bit my lip when we kissed, and I said something about him enjoying making me bleed . . . He ran out.”

Viktor groans, running a palm down his face, then takes a deep breath. “Maybe because he actually doesn’t enjoy it. Or maybe he interpreted your words as you saying he enjoys hurting you.”

I swallow hard, my chest tightening, muscles tensing. “He makes me feel . . . things.”

“What kind of things?”

“I don’t know!” I run a hand through my hair, pulling at the strands. “That’s the problem. I can’t make sense of it. He hurt me, almost killed me. Nearly destroyed the only future I have. But then I hate it when he gets upset. And, according to you, I get jealous. And . . . “

“You also want to fuck him.”

I glare at him. “Haven’t fucked anyone since before we left for Miami. Just my goddamn hand.”

Viktor quirks a brow. “Didn’t you go to Lab—”

I grab the lapels of his coat. “Motherfucker, stop tracking me because I will pull the chip out of wherever you put it.”

He just laughs in my face. “As if I wouldn’t put it back in.”

I roll my eyes and let him go before shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. “Didn’t fuck anyone. Just let Marcus cane me.”

Viktor’s expression goes stone cold. “You’re fucking kidding, right! Zach! You can’t process . . . how bad!”

“Calm down.”

“Did your parents ever explain your issues to Merci? ”

I shrug. “My father doesn’t like to advertise that shit. And if my mother walked out, he most likely kept it from Evelyn, too.”

Viktor’s about to say something when his phone chimes. He pulls it out of his pocket, his face illuminated by the screen's glow. His lips press into a thin line as he reads the message.

“Harper?”

Viktor groans, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Worse. Henneman.”

“Henneman?” The name comes out like a snarl. “Since when are you friends with him?”

“We’re all in a team chat, fuckface,” Viktor says, rolling his eyes.

“What does he want?”

His expression darkens. “Merci and Eli are at some Anti-Valentine’s Day frat party. And a little drunk.”

My fingers clench into fists. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, and Alexei’s on his way. He was going to surprise Eli, so shit’s going to hit the fan.”

We run through campus until we reach the frat house Henneman sent a pin drop to. Of course it had to be the one with half the lacrosse players. Most of the teams at Crestwood have issues with one another. It stems from who gets the larger share of financial support . . . and if there’s anyone most of them hate the most, it’s our hockey team.

Not our fault we win national championships or that a high percentage of our players end up on professional teams. Well, the football team does as well.

But why the fuck is Henneman here anyway?

Drunken laughter and shouting pour out every time the door opens, along with the faint scent of weed and stale beer. Viktor pushes the door open, and the scene inside is chaos. Red Solo cups litter every surface, bodies grind in every corner, and someone’s puking onto the floor.

We move through the crowd, searching for the two people we’re going to murder once we get them out of here. And yes, Eli is one of those. Fucking Feisty Mouse. What is he even thinking?

“Holy shit.” Viktor points ahead.

And there they are, up on a table together, dancing. Merci’s lithe body moves to the beat of the music, his crop top riding up to reveal his entire midriff. The words “Community Hole” are emblazoned in bold, glittery letters across his chest.

My teeth grind until my jaw aches as the muscles in my arms twitch and coil. I want to grab him, drag him down, and shield him from leering eyes. After, I want to go through his entire fucking wardrobe and burn it, including that shirt and Raiyne’s jersey, if he still has it.

“We need to get them down, or Alexei will lose his absolute shit and kill all of us.”

Just then, three guys walk closer to the table. One of them reaches up and grabs Merci’s ass. “Hey, Community Hole. What’re you offering?”

Everything goes quiet except the blood rushing in my ears. My nostrils flare as I push people out of my way toward the fuckhead whose hand is now on Merci's thigh, about to teach him a lesson that ends with someone calling an ambulance.

“Baby, I bet I can suck your dick better than any girl in here. Make you see stars and all that shit.” Merci winks at the guy.

Another guy snickers. “What a fucking cum dump. Bet the house would love to use your holes.” He grabs Merci’s arm, yanking him off the table.

Eli squeals and kicks the guy. Another retaliates and punches Feisty Mouse in the leg, and he crumples down on the table.

I charge forward, Viktor right next to me. Suddenly, a chair flies over our heads and Viktor grunts as someone slams past him hard enough to knock him off balance.

Alexei .

I follow behind. My friend is larger than any other people here and easily plows through the crowd. Must be all the training he puts in. He was a beast before, and now he’s double the size.

“Solnyshko!”

Eli looks up, wide-eyed and whimpers, the sound barely audible over the music, then he turns to the guy who punched his leg and smiles. “You’re about to eat shit.”

The guy cocks his arm back just as Alexei grabs him by his collar, then proceeds to punch him in the face. Over and over and over, his knuckles covered in blood.

I pull Eli off the table. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.”

Viktor wraps an arm around him and tries to guide him toward the door. I spin around, looking for Merci, but he’s not here.

“Oh, look who showed up. The fucking hockey team.” The asshole who grabbed Merci snarls as he throws a punch my way.

I block it, then return one of my own, connecting with his cheek. He throws a hit to my ribs. We go back and forth, eventually ending up on the ground.

Someone grabs my jacket, and while I wiggle out of it, the fucktard lands a few extra hits to my ribs, along with another person stomping on my back. I wince, some inkling of pain seeping through, then swing again. “Keep your fucking hands off what isn’t yours. ”

“You a faggot too? Just like your goalie?” He grabs my hair as he punches me in the head. “Pathetic that all the Athletic department’s money goes to you.”

“And you expect it to go to your sport.” I spear him in the throat, then sit up, grinning. “There’s no fucking money in lacrosse. No real pro team. Nothing anyone wants to spend millions on.”

He spits on me.

“Let me guess. Scholarship student, too. Not for long.” I grab his wrist, then twist it with both hands, causing the bones to snap.

He screams, and I laugh while getting to my feet. Beside me, Viktor is beating the shit out of another guy, smashing a bottle over his head. Alexei is taking on two others. I should help, but I need to find Merci.

It only takes a minute before I spot him. Some guy corners him, his back pressed against the wall. But a moment later the guy goes flying, and someone slings Merci over their shoulder.

“Fuck.”

I sprint after them, tackling the guy just as he steps outside. All three of us hit the ground, the impact rattling through my bones.

Merci lets out a yelp as we untangle ourselves, and the guy scrambles to his feet, eyes wide as he stares at me. “Knight? ”

Henneman.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I lunge at him, grabbing his sweatshirt.

“I was trying to get him out of there.” Henneman’s eyes dart between me and Merci. “He was—”

My fist connects with his face, and he stumbles back.

“Zach, stop!” Merci shouts, his hands clawing at my shirt as he tries to pull me away. “Stop it, you psychopath!”

“Stay out of this!”

I hit Henneman again, but my teammate just covers up and defends himself, never returning a punch. Merci, on the other hand, yanks my hair and punches me in the back.

“Zach, stop! He was helping me.”

I land a hit to Henneman’s stomach, and he groans, curling up. Suddenly, there’s a lot of pressure on the area between my shoulder and neck, followed by a popping pierce and slight pain.

Henneman’s brows shoot up, his mouth agape, and then he shoves me back. I go flying, unprepared for the amount of strength he has, and slam onto the ground, Merci beneath me. I roll over and get to my feet.

“Are you insane!” Merci gets up in my face. “I said he was helping me. ”

But it’s not his words I focus on. It's the blood coating his lips. I grab his chin, lifting it to get a better look. “Who hurt you?”

Merci blinks at me, confused. “What?”

“Who the fuck hurt you?” I repeat, my voice shaking. “I’ll kill them.”

“It’s your blood.” Henneman points to the area near my neck.

I stare at him, then back to Merci, who’s gone pale. I let go of his chin and reach up, running my fingers along the area. When I pull them away, they’re covered in blood.

“Zach?” Tears gather in the corners of Merci’s eyes. “I . . . I’m so—”

Eli stumbles out of the house, his face red and panicked. “Viktor and Alexei are still fighting! There’s like, five guys—”

I turn to Henneman. “Get these two back to their dorm.”

He nods, reaching down to help Merci to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They take off across the lawn while I head back into the house. My friends need me. And if my world is going to come crashing down—because surely after Merci bit me and I didn’t react to it, he and Henneman realize there’s something wrong, and fuck knows who they’ll tell—at least I can make sure to protect those who matter to me.

It might be the only worth I have left after tonight.