Page 117 of Fractured Fates

It’s so darn tempting. But so far, it’s a temptation I’ve resisted. I don’t trust him not to use what we find inside my head against me.

In fact, I’m almost certain he will.

No, I’m just going to have to continue my scouring of the library in search of my answers.

33

Spencer

Sometimes I could throttleTristan Kennedy.

Most days I could throttle him.

He’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember, our mothers are connected through their high society circles and close acquaintances. Our friendship was encouraged. Our rivalry too. We’ve been competing for as long as I can remember. Still there isn’t anyone else I trust to have my back if I needed them to.

Which is why the fuck-up with the girl is ten times as bad.

It isn’t enough that half my gym classes are disrupted by the brattish little thing, now she’s there at every dueling match and practice too.

And in my head. The moment she blasted me across the pitch playing out over and over again on repeat.

I watch her mopping the locker room floor after another practice that dragged on thirty minutes longer than it should have because Dan couldn’t get a play down. That knuckle-head has had his head turned by pussy and he’s not focusing. I’m going to have to speak to him. Make him see that fucking his new girlfriend isn’t a priority.

“Shouldn’t she be doing that after we’ve cleared out,” I grumble to Tristan under my breath.

Tristan drags his eyes from her. “If she’s not doing the job properly, then talk to her about it,” he says with a frown.

“I miss Cassie and the little cupcakes she used to bake us.”

“Well if you hadn’t shouted at the girl, she’d still be here.”

“My shirt was wet. On the day of the match,” I growl.

Tristan holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, we need someone else.”

Tristan combs his fingers through his golden hair, his eyes flicking back to her. “I like having her where I can see her,” he says in a low voice and I turn my head to look at him.

“What does that mean?”

“There’s something about her …”

I scoff. “You can’t be serious, man. The girl has no ass and–”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says in irritation, although his jaw tightens in the way it does when I’ve hit a raw nerve. “Her powers …”

I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him behind the open door of my locker.

There are only a few of our team members still lingering around, but I don’t want them hearing this. I don’t want her hearing it either.

“What does that mean?” I hiss and Tristan looks up into my face in that lazy way he does. It’s an act. I see how alert his eyes are. I’ve known him long enough to see the tells behind the mask.

“It’s a feeling I have … power.”

I hesitate, weighing up whether to tell him or not.

But we’ve always had each other’s backs. One day we could be on the front line together. He needs to know.