Page 62

Crew

L ike stalkers, Kota and I watched their locations as they pulled into the apartment complex parking lot.

We didn’t have a plan on what we were going to say or do, but we were equally pissed.

It was hypocritical, for sure. Did I think it was fucking dumb of me to break a rule that I set in the first place? Yeah, of course. But for a while now, I wanted to figure out my own thoughts and feelings before sharing them with anyone else. Kota and I hadn’t even had that conversation ourselves. I knew how strongly I felt about Kota, but I was still easing into accepting relationship territory.

Lane always had shit figured out. He always knew exactly what he was doing, always had a clear head, whereas I was the opposite. And I always knew it, but it was actually starting to bother me a little bit now.

I was jealous of him for it.

Kota and I could hear Lane and Bridget laughing from down the hall. My heartrate sped with anticipation when I watched the lock on the door turn, and as Kota crossed her arms, I did the same.

Bridget slightly jumped at the sight of us, caught off guard. Lane’s laughter slowly faded until he was cloaked with unease, brows pulled down and eyeing us like they just walked into a trap.

They kind of did.

“Hello?” Lane cautiously spoke. “Can we help you?”

Ire was slowly searing my bones. My scorned gaze flickered back and forth between them. “How was your date?”

Lane hardly seemed on edge, standing stiff, unintimidated. “What?” he bellowed.

But Bridget’s face said it all. The rosy pink rush to her cheeks was as bright as a neon sign, and I could visibly see the way her tiny hand tightened around her Starbucks cup.

Finally, Kota stepped in, and the dark animosity in her voice reminded me of how she used to speak to me so long ago. “We know.” Neither of them responded, but I could see Lane ease back a bit, shoulders falling. “How long have you two been secretly dating?”

I couldn’t stop staring at Lane. With every second that passed, it felt like the knife in my heart was getting drilled deeper and deeper.

My best friend lied to me.

My brother lied to me.

Lane hung his head low, accepting defeat. “Almost two months.”

“Two months?” Kota roared. “You’ve been lying to us for two months?”

Bridget’s face skewed from looking like she’d been punched in the gut to looking like she wanted to punch us in the gut. “Yeah, well...” she paused unsteadily, “we know that you two have been fucking!”

Kota gasped, sounding like she just got her first breath of air after drowning for minutes on end. Her voice rumbled, “We have not...”

I made a face, undoubtedly cringing and giving us away. Lane’s hand swiped through the air, and he spoke in the same tone he used when we were in between periods of a game and playing like trash. “Oh, don’t give us that shit. We’ve heard you guys loud and clear.”

Fuck. When?!

My guess had to be at some point in the middle of the night. We were usually so careful otherwise, only messing around when our roommates weren’t home. We were also typically quiet at night— well, as quiet as possible— but there was always room for error, I guess.

“Alright,” I said, taking in a puff of stale air and nearly choking on it, “so we’ve hooked up once or twice.”

Droplets of Bridget’s coffee flew into the air when she slammed it down on the counter beside her, bringing her hand to her hip. “Once or twice, my ass. We know you guys have a whole routine going. You were probably going at it before we walked in.”

I could feel my muscles constricting, teeth clenching as I shook my head, overtaken by far too many emotions all at once. “This isn’t about us.”

“Then what’s it about? Us?” Lane motioned to Bridget and himself. “Because that hardly seems fair.”

The room went quiet, and it felt like the floor was falling through, but honestly, I would’ve been okay with it if it had.

There was an odd, sour taste in my mouth— the taste of betrayal. Bitter and cold, hollow and deadly, it was radiating throughout the apartment, contaminating us all.

Kota and I sat with frowns, mirroring the two people we loved most in front of us. If disappointment were tangible, it would be filling the room up to my throat right now.

Lane stalked forward, and my shoulder rammed back as he bumped into me, but I managed to stay on my feet. “Let’s go talk.”

For a moment, I didn’t move; I couldn’t at first. The fury simmering inside me was fading back to hurt, and I finally headed towards my room, chin to the floor the entire time.

But when I walked inside and closed the door, all I could do was stand there, back turned towards Lane, hands planted on my hips as I tried to catch my breath.

However this conversation were to go, I needed one thing from Lane.

For him to not speak to me as my roommate. Or my friend. I didn’t want him to speak to me as my teammate. Or my captain.

I needed him to speak to me as my brother.

I fostered the courage to look at him. I could hear the ache in my own voice as it came out, low and rasped. “I really hope you’re not going to blame this on that stupid rule.”

Lane was always so calm and collected. It was a rarity to see him genuinely torn up.

Yet here he was, standing before me with eyes just as glossy as my own, a haunted expression overtaking his face.

“I don’t care about the rule, Lane,” I let out. “I care that you lied to me.”

He pointed to the center of his chest, and instantly, I realized he was pointing to the bullet hole I’d just left. “And you didn’t lie to me ?”

And just like that, my hand shot up to my own chest, covering my own wound now. I rubbed right over my heart.

“Sure, I left part of the truth out, but you knew how I felt about her! I’m not the one that’s been going around for however long pretending to hate her. Putting on a show just to deceive you.” He stumbled back a little. “How long has it been going on for anyway?”

Longer than two months , I remembered, gulping through the thought.

“How long, Crew?”

“A few months,” I replied quietly, ashamed.

Shaking his head, he said, “You have no right to give me any shit.”

“Lane—”

“No,” he cut me off. “I didn’t lie to your face like you lied to mine.”

Anger was resurfacing, and it seemed like we’d both be dead on the floor, covered in bullet holes by the time this conversation was over. “That’s bullshit. That’s such bullshit.”

“Name a lie that I told you to your face.”

“What about every time I asked what you were up to, and you always responded saying that you were just hanging out with Bridget? When in reality, you were sneaking around behind my back, going on secret dates?”

At that, he backed down a bit, grabbing the back of his neck. “Technically, I wasn’t lying. I was hanging out with Bridget like I said.”

“Don’t try to get me on a goddamn technicality, Lane!” I hurled. “The bottom line is that you fucking lied.”

You lied. I lied. The girls both lied. Everybody in this house was just a fucking liar apparently.

Hurt was running through me, soaring through my bloodstream, alongside guilt. Lane wasn’t the only one that needed to be held accountable. I knew that half of this mess was my fault, and that reality only added more pain.

I spoke through shaking and cracked words, my strong and confident persona vanishing— what was left of it, at least. “I had to find out from fucking TJ! Fucking TJ! Instead of from you. It seems like everyone on the damn planet knew before I did. Do you know how fucking upsetting that is? We’re supposed to tell each other shit! Brothers are not supposed to lie to each other!”

Lane cringed, wounded. He blew out a strained breath, eyes bright with pain. “Crew...”

“I’m serious.”

“I know,” he croaked. “I’m sorry.” Silently, I stared at him, unsure if I just heard him correctly. “I am. I’m sorry.”

Eyes glancing up to meet his, the weight felt like it was lifting off my chest in slow-motion. I gave a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry too... Can we please never do this shit again?”

“Yeah,” he nodded quietly.

Immediately, my arms were open, and he mirrored me. We met halfway, embracing for a hug that brought ease back to me.

Lane and I didn’t hug often, if ever. If it wasn’t hockey induced, then it usually wasn’t happening.

It did feel nice to hug my brother though.

“Alright,” I pulled back after it felt like it was getting weird. “Long enough.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes, letting me know that things were going to be okay.

“You think the girls are fine?” I asked.

“Probably,” he shrugged.

“I mean... you know how Kota can be.”

“I know. But Bridget can handle her own,” he grinned.