Page 17

CHAPTER 17

RIVER

After an hour on the ice, I’m exhausted. Last night kicked me in the ass. I’m still sore from getting drunk and passing out in my car.

“Dude, wake the fuck up.” Standing behind the camera, Nate waves his hand. “You look like death, Riv. Jeez. Snap out of it.”

“I’m tired. Barely slept last night.”

“You would’ve gotten some sleep if you had stayed home with Samantha and me.”

Ugh, not this again.

I’m sick of the nagging.

“You told me not to come home, dickhead.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugs. “I didn’t fucking mean it.”

Nate has been on me about not coming home last night. Between filming new videos for brand deals, he tells me what I did was fucked up. I didn’t do anything wrong, yet I still feel like I betrayed him.

“How could you leave Samantha?” Nate had said an hour ago, but I could tell he wanted to say, “How could you leave me ?”

It’s always about Nate. And his addiction. He uses me to satisfy his sick desires, and I have let him for far too long.

Nate moves out from behind the tripod and skates over to me. “Maybe we should take a break. You need water… or something.”

“Do I look that bad?”

He shrugs. “A few times, you even slurred your words.”

“Shit. Can you edit that out?”

He bobs his head.

Nate is good with technology and edits all of my videos. He has a natural gift for filmmaking, but he only uses his talents for creating porn and helping me tell a decent story for my viewers.

He puts his hand on my back and shoves me toward the bench. “Sit down. Drink something.”

“We only have thirty minutes until the women’s ice hockey team’s practice.”

“I can chop up some of your old videos and make it work.” He guides me into the box and forces my ass onto the bench. “Sit before you fall over. We can’t have you breaking any bones when we’re this close to winning another Frozen Four.”

He strips off his helmet and hands me a water bottle. I take it with an appreciative nod and down half the water.

Nate grabs a can of an energy drink I’m promoting and gulps it down in one swallow. “Not bad,” he says, licking his lips. “How much are they paying you to drink this on the ice?”

I shrug. “Who knows? My dad and his agent set this shit up. Doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s good exposure ,” I say, imitating my dad’s voice.

Nate laughs. “Your dad is just looking out for you. He wants you to follow in his footsteps.”

My dad is my manager, even though a company handles our careers. He’s hands-on and always in my business. I can’t breathe or take a shit without my dad crawling up my ass, which is why keeping a secret life is so damn complicated.

“It will happen.” Confident in my response, I smile. “I know it. I just hope the Rangers pick me up.”

I have the highest stats in Division I hockey, breaking all previous records for a defenseman. Every professional team has me on their radar. But if they discover my secret…

“How about we call it a day?” Nate suggests, crushing the energy drink can in his palm. “We can finish this up tomorrow after classes end.”

I rise from the bench and fall into his shoulder. Nate wraps an arm around me to steady my shaky legs. With him this close, I drink in his scent and commit it to memory. He smells like bergamot with a hint of something sweet.

“Whoah,” he says, holding me against his chest. “You sure you’re okay with hanging out today? Maybe we should go back to the house.”

Like I would ever give up spending the day with Nate. For years, I have looked forward to lazy Sundays with my best friend. Back at boarding school, we would practice shooting drills, stuff our faces at the refectory, and spend the night watching movies.

I will never give that up.

Not for anyone or anything. Not even for the sleep I so desperately need.

“Nah, I’m good,” I tell him. “Where do you wanna eat? Giovanni’s or The Wing Shack?”

Nate releases me from his firm grip, his intense golden-brown eyes on my face. “Giovanni’s, I guess. We can bring back some pizza for the guys. I kinda owe them after the show I put on this morning.”

I laugh, but it’s forced. “Pizza will get Waters off my back. That motherfucker can eat.” I lift my helmet from the bench and pause. “We need to be more careful.”

Nate stops mid-turn, his right skate pointed toward the exit. He stares at the ice, then slowly sweeps his gaze over me. I gulp down the fear and anxiety clawing at my throat.

“What we’re doing isn’t wrong, Riv.”

Deep down, I think Nate understands how fucked up our relationship looks to outsiders. Even I don’t get it sometimes. My feelings are tied up in these weekly rituals, all the days and nights we have spent together since adolescence.

When I first started catching feelings, I thought my interest in men was specific to Nate. He was always there, filling every inch of space in my life. How could I not notice him, especially with him preferring to sleep naked and only wearing clothing when he felt like it?

“I don’t want you to change,” I say and mean it. “I love who you are, Nate. But I just think…”

“Say it,” he snaps.

I hold my head high despite the pounding ache in my skull. Hangovers suck.

“Go ahead. Just rip the Band-Aid off, Riv.” He gets in my face. “Fucking say it.”

I drop the helmet on the bench. “What do you want me to say?”

“You want this to end,” he whispers as if he’s afraid saying the words aloud will make it happen. “You and me. The girls. Everything.”

“Of course not,” I fire back, furious he would think that.

You’re too addicting .

“Good,” he says through clenched teeth. “Then stop fucking bringing it up. Between you and Samantha, I don’t know which of you is worse.”

He leans closer, his breath fanning over my lips.

Kiss him .

Do it, you coward.

See if he’ll kiss you back .

My heart screams one thing, but my body won’t allow me to make the first move. Not when I know what’s at stake. If I kiss Nate, our lazy Sundays will end.

We are over.

So, I back away a few inches.

He does the same.

Nate picks up my helmet and hands it to me. “We good?”

I nod, smiling through the lie.

No, I’m not good .

“There’s a new superhero movie,” Nate tells me as we head toward the locker room. “Wanna see it? Or there’s a horror one that looks good.”

“Whatever you want.”

Spending time with Nate is my only priority. We could sit and watch paint dry for all I care.

“Horror,” he says with a creepy grin. “I’m in the mood to be scared.”

Nothing scares Nate, though.

Well, one thing does.

Losing me.

And that gives me power.