Page 40 of Little Pieces of Light

Xander

The rowing season was on hold until spring, but that didn’t mean we were allowed to slack off. Coach Daniels set up a punishing schedule with constant weight training and long hours logged on the ergometer.

Monday afternoon, I finished with my classes and headed to the Academy gym. Inside, the men’s gymnasts were training, straddling pommel horses and doing insane tumbling runs on the mat. Gideon Foster was on the horizontal bar, Declan McConnell on the rings.

In the weight room, I spotted Tucker doing curls between benches and racks of dumbbells.

My jaw clenched. I wasn’t a violent person, but Emery had been left shivering in the dark by the side of the road, and that was un-fucking-acceptable.

I strode up to Tucker and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hill. We need to talk.”

“I got nothing to say to you, Ford,” he said, grunting with each hammer curl.

“I have something to say to you.”

He set down his dumbbells and turned, then jumped back to see me standing not one inch from his face, my arms at my side, still.

“Jesus! The hell?”

“You left her,” I said, my voice deadly calm. “You fucking left her in the pouring rain.”

For a fraction of a second, remorse flitted across Tucker’s features. He glanced around as Rhett and Orion drew closer. Then he sneered. “Back off, Ford, if you know what’s good for you.”

He pretended to turn away, but I sensed the feint, and this time I was ready. Tucker whipped around, right fist leading. I ducked the blow and brought my left elbow up in a quick jab that struck him squarely on the nose.

Tucker reeled, staggering back as blood seeped from under his cupped hands. He stared at me with wide eyes. “I think you broke my fucking nose.”

“I didn’t want a physical confrontation,” I said. “But there needs to be a reckoning.”

“A what ?” He spat a wad of blood on the floor. “I was drunk that night. I don’t remember shit.”

“I’ll jog your memory,” I stated, my eyes locked on his. “There was a torrential downpour, and you left her stranded on a deserted road.”

He snorted. “So what? You’re here to defend her honor?”

“Yes.”

“He’s challenging you to a duel,” Rhett sneered from beside Tucker. “Did you see Hamilton one too many times?”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhett,” Orion put in.

Tucker glowered at me. “Pretty fucking bold maneuver, Ford. You know I could kick your ass right now.”

“Possibly, given our height and weight differentials, and your amplified propensity for violence,” I said. “Regardless, I can’t, in good conscience, remain teammates with someone of such low character.”

“Low character.” Rhett chuckled. “Who does this guy think he is?”

“I said, shut it, Calloway,” Orion said from my right.

Tucker read my meaning. “It’s cool, Rhett. Can we have a minute?”

Rhett stepped back, and Orion leaned in. “I’ve got your back,” he said before moving a few feet away, arms crossed, watching.

“You’d quit the team over this?” Tucker asked when we were alone, holding his gym towel to his nose. “Don’t be stupid. We’re set to sweep the regattas.”

I shrugged. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Like hell. Rhett’s never been better at bow, and you’re the best stroke we’ve ever had. You fucking love it.” He cocked his head. “Oh, but you love her more, is that it?”

I swallowed hard but maintained my merciless eye contact until Tucker relented.

“Fine. You’re right. I fucked up. My dad lost his election and Emery’s father turned his back on us the same hour. Grayson Wallace looks like a little fucking weasel, but he’s got clout in this state. A lot of it. I was pissed off and drunk and I took it out on her.”

“You tried to get her to do something she didn’t want to do,” I said tightly.

“I didn’t force myself on her, I swear. She said no and I backed off.”

“She had to slap you first.” I nodded at his bloody nose. “I’m detecting a pattern.”

“Fucking hell, I backed off . But I shouldn’t have left her in the rain.” He glanced down at the bloody towel in his hand. “Is she okay?”

I nodded, once.

Tucker waited for me to say more. “So? We good now? Clean slate?”

“It’s not me you need to make things right with.”

His glare hardened. “Don’t get all uppity on me, Ford. I’m calling a truce. Take it or leave it, but I’m not going to offer twice.”

“Apologize to her or I’ll quit the team.” I arched a brow. “ I’m not going to offer twice.”

“Fuck me,” Tucker groused. “Fine, I’ll tell her I’m sorry. Happy?”

“No, but it’s a start.”

Tucker touched the towel to his swollen nose. “Jesus, Ford,” he said with a grudging chuckle. “You’ve got some balls, I’ll give you that. But can I give you some advice? Watch yourself. Her dad is not a good guy.”

“I’m well aware.”

“I’m serious,” Tucker said. “As bad as you think he is, he’s a whole lot worse—”

A bone-chilling howl from the main gym suddenly filled the air.

Tucker and I froze, then everyone in the weight room rushed inside, where a crowd had gathered around the mat beneath the horizontal bar.

Someone was moaning and making strange, hiccupping noises of pure agony.

Declan McConnell broke from the group to vomit in a nearby trashcan.

“Gideon,” Tucker murmured and pushed through the crowd, then stopped short. “Jesus fucking Christ, someone call an ambulance!”

My own stomach wanted to heave. Gideon Foster was on the mat, deathly pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

He was sitting up, both palms flat on the ground, staring in wide-eyed shock at his right leg, which was bent at a ninety-degree angle at the knee, protruding obscenely away from his body.

The gymnastics coach and trainers rushed over, and the school security backed the rest of us away. We were ushered out of the gym as sirens wailed from the parking lot.

“Poor bastard,” Orion said from beside me. “He was set to go to World’s, then the possibly the Olympics. Guess that’s done.”

“That’s Castle Hill Academy for you,” said a guy at my left. “It chews you up and spits you out.”

“Yep,” Orion agreed. “First it’s Jack Wallace at the bonfire, today it’s Gideon.” He turned and gave me a grim look. “Now we wait.”

A shiver went down my spine. “For?”

“Strike three.”