Page 41 of Ice-Cold Obsession

He grimaces and rubs his back, then stops like he caught himself doing it. Then he gets to his feet and heads toward the bathroom. I wait a few seconds after the door closes, then sit up. I can hear him moving around in there and opening something, probably the cabinet.

I slide off the bed and move quietly toward the bathroom door. It’s cracked open just enough for me to see inside.

He’s holding the bottle of painkillers he stole from the health center. He shakes two pills into his palm, then hesitates before adding a third. He tosses them into his mouth and swallows with water from the tap.

I step back quickly and return to the bed, lying down in the same position as before. What the fuck is going on? Is he just using those like drugs, or is he actually in pain? I’m sure he didn’t have any accidents at practice.

No hard hits, no falls, or anything that would explain this. He stayed a lot longer after everyone left, but I was there the whole time, sorting through the images in the stands. I would’ve noticed if something had happened.

Unless it didn’t happen during practice.

The bathroom door opens, and he comes out. He moves carefully as he approaches the bed. When he lies down next to me, he exhales slowly, as if he’s been holding his breath.

I pull him into my arms and run my fingers through his hair. He tenses at first, his body going rigid, then relaxes slightly but not completely. There’s still tension in his shoulders.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re worried about something. What is it?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. I keep running my fingers through his hair, gently and slowly.

“My parents,” he says. “They’re in prison.”

I blink. “What? Both of them?”

“Well, obviously not together, but yeah.”

“Can I know what they did?”

“Drug trafficking.”

“Oh.” I shift so I can look into his eyes. “Are you doing something with drugs too?”

“No.”

But he’s not looking at me. His gaze is fixed on the wall behind me, and his jaw tightens.

Oh shit. His whole family is in it.

“So your brother dying...” I trail off.

“Yeah. It was related to that.”

His life’s messed up, like really messed up. His parents in prison, his brother dead, and him tangled up in drugs too. And part of me wants to feel for him, comfort him, and tell him it’s going to be okay.

But I can’t let myself do that. Because of Carla.

Still, I have so many doubts and so many questions. I need to figure this out quickly, before I get in too deep.

I don’t think my sister was meeting him to buy drugs. Carla wasn’t like that. She never even drank at parties, never smoked, and never did anything remotely close to that. But her suicide came out of nowhere, with no warning signs and no note. Nothing made sense.

What if I got it all wrong?