Page 130 of The Substitute

“Except you hate everything that has to do with him, including me spending time with him.”

“I would hate you spending time with anyone else you were dating. That’s not special to him,” I grit out. “It’s not about hating him, it’s about wanting all your time, and I fucking know that’s unrealistic. I’m trying to deal with it.”

Tobi sighs. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“I don’t either.” I close my eyes and make myself take a calming breath. “But when I’m not traveling for a game, I want you here.”

“You travel a lot or don’t come in until after I’m asleep. What’s the difference if I’m here or not?” The fact that Tobi is actually confused about this is frustrating.

“I know you’re here. That’s the difference.” I soften. “I sleep better when you’re here.”

“I sleep better when you’re here, too,” he admits, but then quickly says, “Am I just supposed to sit around and wait for you to have time for me?”

“How is that any different than what you’re doing for him?” I demand.

“What? I’m here, not at his place.”

“Yet it’s fine that he’s gone all the time? Why does he get a free pass for doing the same thing you’re throwing in my face?” I hate that it’s somehow okay for Savage but not for me.

“What does that mean?”

“Has he still not told you?” I pick up my head.

“Told me what?”

I almost laugh. “Where do you think he is right now?” I’m so tired of this song and dance. It’s time he knew the truth, and since Savage doesn’t want to say it, I guess I will.

“He’s doing interviews for medical school,” Tobi says, but he doesn’t sound confident in that answer.

“You realize you have him on this fucking pedestal because he doesn’t want to go into the NHL like I do, but he fucking could. His dad is in the Hall of Fame.”

“What are you talking about?!” Tobi is almost hesitant like he’s already put it together, but he needs me to say it.

“He’s not always at a medical school interview.” I pull up the pregame footage of the Gods’ game and flip my phone around to show him. “He’s playing hockey.”

He takes my phone, staring at the screen. “That can’t be right.”

“He’s the Gods’ starting goalie.”

Tobi’s eyes flick up to mine. Confusion, disbelief, and betrayal are fighting in his eyes as he connects the dots in his head and questions everything he knows. It hurts to watch and know I’m partly to blame for it for his pain. It’s not my lie, but I’m the one who told him, and now I have to deal with the consequences of it.

“Why didn’t he tell me? Why did you wait until now?”

“At first, I thought you knew, and then I put it together after our fight, and I didn’t know when to bring it up. I should have. I’m sorry.” I feel bad, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but why the fuck hasn’t Savage at this point.

Tobi tosses my phone on the bed and picks up his own. He fires off a quick message, and I can only assume it’s to Savage before saying, “I’m so sick and tired of that answer. Someone needs to tell me something! Stop leaving me in the dark with incomplete data!”

“Incomplete data?” I ask, not sure where this conversation has derailed to.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me.” Tobi puts his face in his hands.

I wrap an arm around him. “Everyone has shit they don’t want to drag up. Have you told Savage about the bridge?”

Tobi straightens his spine and squares his shoulders. “You want me to open up and spill my darkest shit to both of you when you won’t to me? Hello, pot, meet kettle. Since you seem to be on a tea spilling adventure, why don’t you just tell him for me? Does he know about the bridge for you?”

“He does, actually. He found me there the first time.”

Tobi’s mouth falls open. “I didn’t know that.”