Page 4

She seemed to brighten again at the question. “Nothing but the usual. I’m not sure what we’re doing for dinner yet, but do you want to come along?”

“No, I need some one-on-one time with Ash.”

Not entirely a lie.

I finished dressing and headed toward the sinks, where soft overhead lights glowed against sleek, silver-framed mirrors.

Everything about the locker room radiated quiet power and luxury, Crowsfell’s signature etched into every surface, from the obsidian marble countertops to the barely noticeable emblem worked into the corners of the mirror trim: a crow perched over a skull, its wings outstretched.

I unzipped my toiletry bag and pulled out my wide-tooth comb, fingers moving through my familiar routine without much thought behind it. I stared at my reflection, trying to see myself through an objective lens.

Straight, ink-black hair that reached the center of my back, dark, round eyes with flecks of gold, and warm brown skin that was too rich to pass as solely Italian, too blended to be distinctly Indian.

I’d never felt the need to fit neatly into either box.

My family had always taught me to embrace both sides of who I was without choosing one over the other.

As for my body, I wasn’t petite or delicate.

My curves were toned, and my muscles were defined from years of cheer and training.

It was ridiculous to compare myself, completely insane, actually. I knew I was pretty. Not vainly or arrogantly, but in the quiet, hard-won way that comes from finally accepting the woman you’re becoming.

That hadn’t always been the case, especially when insecurity whispered the loudest, and I felt like I took up more space than I deserved.

Sometimes, those whispers still came, and lately they liked to remind me that Brooke was everything I wasn’t.

She was light and sweet and uncomplicated.

Her only flaw, if you could call it that, was her being a little too sweet for my best friend.

Most of his flings had been more assertive, if I were putting it nicely.

Girls who took what they wanted and never asked for permission.

I wasn’t particularly sweet either. I also wasn’t the take-what-I-want type.

I hovered somewhere in the middle. I knew how to endure, but I had never known how to ask for more.

I didn’t light up the room, but I was more than happy holding the door open for someone who did.

At my best, I was a contradiction in motion.

Messy but meticulous, endlessly thoughtful, calm, until I wasn’t, and overthinking wasn’t just a habit, but my favorite kind of self-sabotage.

Ryder had always known that about me. He saw everything and never once tried to make me someone else. I guess it was the same way I’d always seen him. To me, he wasn’t the golden boy everyone worshipped and placed on a pedestal. He was also the ruthless, calculating boy I’d always protected.

I loved both sides of him.

The one who offered salvation with nothing but a smile.

And the one who, if you weren’t careful, became the reason you needed saving in the first place.

“You sure you don’t want to join us for dinner tonight, or just to hang out?” Brooke asked again, her voice light, oblivious to the thoughts swirling inside my head.

“Ryder wouldn’t mind. You know how much he and the guys love having you around.”

Because they were mine first.

The thought was petty and childish. I knew that.

People weren’t possessions or things to be claimed.

But logic didn’t soothe the possessiveness curling sharply in my chest. My only consolation was knowing I wasn’t alone in feeling this way.

We all held on a little too tight when it came to one another.

I forced another smile. "I’m sure."

“Alright, well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

She left after that, and I continued with what I was doing.

I ran the comb through my hair slower this time, my grip tightening around the handle like it might hold me together because now I couldn’t stop thinking about how good she looked wearing nothing but his hoodie and a pair of sweats.

I should’ve been happy for them. I needed to be.

Ryder deserved all the happiness in the world.

Of everyone I’d grown up with, he was the one who’d always mattered most. He was my person. From pacifiers and scraped knees to learning how to drive and surviving high school together. And now, college, where he was the star quarterback and I was his forever cheerleader.

I yanked the comb through a knot a little too hard and winced.

I sighed and closed my eyes for a second.

This had to stop at some point, right? There was no one I could talk to about it.

Not even my girls, whom I loved and trusted with my life.

I already knew what they’d say, and it would leave me with two choices—both equally soul-crushing for different reasons:

Pathetically pine from a distance, becoming one of those girls who stayed stuck on a guy she could never have and let life pass her by, being miserable because of it.

Or sabotage his relationship and try to make him mine.

Neither was a good look. Both sounded like a nightmare to me, honestly.

Especially since we’d never even had a conversation about what we were.

Oh, and because of the minor detail, I wasn’t single either.

Obviously, the most logical thing to do was remain in denial.

Eventually I’d climb my way out of this twisted little headspace, and everything would go back to normal.

I had to believe that. I was the reason we’d ended up here in the first place, going back to the whole architect of my own misery thing.

I took one last glance at myself in the mirror, trying to look more composed than I felt.

I wandered back over to the long bench in front of the lockers and sat.

I waited for Roxxi and Layla to finish up, mindlessly scrolling through my phone.

The locker room wasn’t that full anymore.

Some of the girls had headed out right away, opting to shower at home.

Those that remained were packing their bags, saying goodbye as they left, their laughter and chatter fading down the hall toward the exit.

It took another fifteen minutes for Roxxi to appear, and when she did, she was already dressed, her long red hair in a tidy bun atop her head, not a strand out of place.

She walked over to our lockers and slipped into her sleek, leather fitted jacket and grabbed her helmet and backpack.

Layla joined us seconds later, her brown eyes scanning the room.

Gone was the confident girl from moments ago.

There was a slight fidget in her hands as she adjusted the strap of her canvas bag.

I made a point not to stare. That always made things worse.

Her anxiety tended to be more evident when she wasn’t giving her all for our team or forcing herself to put on an act during the day.

I did everything I could to help shoulder the troubles that weighed her down, but it would never be enough.

She was the one person I actually wanted to get far away from this town, if only to escape the hell that was her home.

“Ready?” Roxxi asked us.

“Yep,” I replied, smothering a yawn.

Layla nodded, and together we made our way outside.

Right away, I could see that the football team was wrapping up their practice a bit behind schedule.

I looked for Ashton and spotted him talking to one of his teammates.

As if sensing my gaze on him, he turned his head.

When our eyes met, a grin spread across his face.

See, I reasoned with myself. This was the guy I should be wholly focused on.

He jogged over, his jersey streaked with sweat and dirt, his voice a little breathless.

“Hey. You ready to head out?”

“Yeah, but no rush. You know I don’t mind waiting for you.”

He dipped his head, brushing a fleeting kiss against my lips, leaving the ghost of his touch lingering as he pulled away. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be out after a quick shower.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured him.

He flashed an easy smile, and then he was gone, disappearing toward the locker rooms. I turned, hurrying to catch up with Roxxi and Layla. They were already nearing the bleachers where Arianna and Cloe sat.

Brooke was settled beside them with Sydney and Britt, no doubt waiting for Ryder. Just as I picked up my pace, a feeling of awareness prickled up my neck. I slowed and swept my eyes across the field. The players moved in their usual patterns, talking, stretching, and laughing.

Nothing out of place.

I turned in a slow circle, tracing beyond the field’s glowing lights, past the stretch of empty bleachers on the opposite side of the turf, and the steel gates at the far end of the turf.

My gaze landed on a shadowed figure near the tunneled passageway that led toward the ice rink entrance.

I squinted. That was a person, right? They were standing still, almost unnaturally so.

Were they waiting for someone? It was hard to make out any details about who it was with the distance and lack of light before the tunnel.

Something about the way they were standing there like that felt wrong.

I glanced around, searching for any sign that someone else had noticed.

My friends laughed near the bleachers; more of the team jogged off toward the locker rooms. Everyone seemed oblivious and in their own worlds.

The sound of rapid footsteps behind me pulled my attention from them.