Page 41 of The Substitute (New York Gods #4)

THIRTY-FIVE

TOBI

In the light of the dorm room, I feel like a jackass.

I got back to our room fairly early, but Ambrose wasn’t here.

He must be avoiding me, and I can’t blame him.

I spent the day in the room, but he didn’t come back.

I finally remember to check his hockey schedule and realize he’s in the middle of a game.

I knew he had a game today, but it totally slipped my mind.

Which means I stayed at Savage’s even after he apologized the night before a game. He’s going to hate me.

I allowed myself to get caught up in my head and my insecurities, and I let it control me. It was shitty, and I feel even worse after what Savage alluded to.

Ambrose probably needed some reassurance, too, but I was so wrapped up in my own bullshit, I couldn’t see it. Pulling my phone out, I open the messages he sent last night and read them again. I didn’t even respond to him.

Guilt turns my stomach. There’s no way he slept well, which means he’s probably playing like shit, which means he’s going to feel like garbage. Maybe I can catch him between periods and at least fix some of the damage I’ve done. I wouldn’t blame him if he never speaks to me again.

Tobi: I’m sorry

I don’t know if he’ll want to talk to me after I abandoned him last night, but I have to try. We both fucked up last night, but he tried to reconnect while I ignored him. Now it’s my turn to reach out.

Needing to keep myself busy, I start cleaning up our room while I wait. Straighten out the beds, put away books and notebooks, throw away trash, pick up laundry that missed the baskets.

After a few hours, I have a handful of pens, the laundry hampers are full, and I’ve taken two bags of trash down to the dumpster.

I’m about to start on the shit under my bed when my phone pings.

Ambrose: Me too.

Tobi: How was the game?

I chew on my lip as the little bubble appears.

Ambrose: Horrible. Worst game of the season

Uh-oh.

I knew it was going to be bad but now I feel worse.

I don’t know how to fix bad games. When Teddy had a bad one, I didn’t care. What would our parents do? Feed him. But Teddy is like a puppy and food motivated.

Well, Ambrose does eat a lot. Maybe it’ll work for him, too? Or just going out and doing something, like a distraction?

Tobi: Fuck I’m sorry.

Ambrose: It happens. I’m just glad you’re speaking to me.

Tobi: I shouldn’t have left last night. That was fucked.

Ambrose: I missed being in your bed last night.

Tobi: I missed it too.

Which is fucked up because I loved sleeping in Savage’s bed.

Tobi: We should go do something, are you hungry?

He types for a long time but finally sends a message, and it’s short, telling me he erased something.

Ambrose: I can’t.

A boulder settles into my stomach. Does he not want to see me at all, or is he doing team stuff and it’s just them? Does he not want to be seen with me? Is he still angry at me and not ready?

Is this what a future with him will look like? Not being able to be there for him? Because this sucks. Guilt and shame flair in my system until I don’t know who I am anymore.

Ambrose: I’d rather be with you.

That gives me a little spark of hope. I pace my room, but I can’t stay here, and Savage is busy tonight.

I need to be helpful. I need to be needed.

Sitting here and doing nothing goes against everything I am.

Maybe if he just sees me, sees that I’m there, it will be enough.

Even if he can’t really talk to me or whatever.

I need him to know I care enough to meet him on his terms.

Looking down at myself, I groan and quickly change into some jeans and a hoodie.

It’s cold when I step outside, but I’m on a mission.

Was it a home game? Pulling out my phone, I do a quick search for tonight’s game and see it was, in fact, a home game, and we lost three to zero against the Gods.

Ouch. I can only imagine what that’s like for Teddy and Rhys. How do they handle shit like this?

Okay, it can’t be that hard to find a hoard of hockey bros and their adoring fans. Would they go out, though? Since they lost, will they go back to someone’s place to lick their wounds or whatever instead?

Fuck! I don’t know what to do.

Tobi: Are you out with the team? Where are you? Are you okay?

Jesus, I sound like a worried mom with a sick baby.

I bounce on my toes to keep my blood from freezing and to release some energy. Relax. No one likes an overly anxious… What? Fuck buddy? Maybe more?

You don’t have time for that spiral. One crisis at a time!

Ambrose: Yes. I’ll be fine

That tells me nothing.

Tobi: Where are you?

Ambrose: Why?

Tobi: Because I want to make sure you’re okay?

Ambrose: I told you I am

Tobi: So I’m not allowed to come check on you?

Ambrose: No.

Does he not get I’m trying to fix things with us?

I hate feeling like this with him. Tears burn the back of my throat in a hard, unyielding lump.

Turning toward the center of campus, I start walking.

I assume he’s off campus, so there’s less chance of running into him here, and if I stay in our room for one more minute, I’ll throw his shit out a window or something.

The conversation I want to have and am terrified of at the same time plays in my head. I know we need to have an actual conversation about all of this, but what if he sets boundaries I can’t live with? Like I can’t ever be seen in public with him, no matter what? It would crush me.

I’m wandering aimlessly and find myself on the opposite side of campus where it’s crawling with people. In green and yellow hockey shit.

Fuck me.

Some people are pissed, yelling about the game, the number of penalties, and something about fighting.

There’s a lot of fights in hockey, it’s a thing, but from some of these comments, it sounds like this was worse than usual.

Interesting. I know the Gods are one of our rivals, and during Myth League games, things tend to get a little more intense, but I wonder how bad it really was.

Not enough to look up highlights. I don’t need any algorithms to think I’m interested and shove hockey into everything for the next month. No, thank you.

There’s a few bars here, so I pick one and go inside. Maybe a beer will help me calm down? It’s probably a terrible idea, but I seem to be full of those lately, so why limit myself.

When I get inside, a pretty woman asks for my ID, which I hand over. Scanning over the crowd, I realize I’ve made a mistake. There’s faces in here I recognize as being part of Teddy’s team, even if I don’t know their names.

Fuck. Me.

“Thank you. Enjoy your night.” The woman smiles, handing my card back.

I mumble a ‘thank you’ as panic sets in.

I can’t be here. I can’t be seen. If Ambrose sees me here, he’ll probably come unglued and think I was stalking him and vaulting over his boundaries. Which will probably lead to him hating me and never wanting to talk to me again. He’ll leave me and move out of our room…

Jesus fucking Christ, get a hold of yourself.

That’s when I hear it. Ambrose’s laugh. My head snaps to the left, and I see him at a high-top table in that suit I love, laughing with a group of similarly dressed guys and girls hanging off of all of them. All. Of. Them.

My heart hammers. Proof that I am expendable is right there in my face.

“Uh sir?” The lady at the stand touches my arm and I jump.

“Bro! You’re blocking the way! Move!” some big guy in a hockey jersey yells behind me.

I’m immediately embarrassed and curl in on myself to get out of the way, but he and the group he’s with bump into me anyway. I’m fighting the current of people to get out but I can’t seem to make any progress. No one will let me through, and I’m two seconds from having an extremely public meltdown.

With my head down to hide the tears threatening to fall, I wrap my arms around myself and wait. My shoulder is bumped, and people grumble rude shit under their breath, but I hear it.

“Hey.” A voice I know better than my own is getting closer. I don’t want to look up, though, don’t want to show him how fucked up I am. Tonight is about him, not me. God I’m so selfish.

A firm hand touches my back and I flinch.

“Come on,” Ambrose says in a stern tone and I allow him to lead me outside with no hesitation. I’m not paying attention to more than my feet as he takes us somewhere and backs me against a wall. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t touch me but he’s standing close with his hands in his pockets.

“I went for a walk, ended up here.” My voice is so fucking small and pathetic. “I’m not trying to interrupt.”

“Seriously?” He doesn’t believe me and that hurts. Pisses me off, too.

“This might be news to you, but I don’t pay attention to where the team hangs out.” I sniff and wipe my face, allowing the anger to give me a backbone. “When I realized you guys were here, I tried to leave.”

“Or maybe you just got caught and panicked.”

I look up at him, ready to snap, and see the bruise forming on his cheek. Damn, there really were some fights tonight.

“You sure looked like you were having a bad night in there.” I fling my arm around to motion toward the bar. “Is that why you didn’t want me to know where you were?”

“We all wear masks. You better than anyone should know that,” Ambrose snaps.

“For fuck’s sake! Just say it! You don’t need me—it’s fine.” That realization is a lot more painful than I expected. I shove at his chest with both hands, but he doesn’t budge. “Get out of my way. I’m going home.”

“No. I don’t need you—I don’t need anyone! You can thank my father for that,” he says low and deep, leaning into my space. “But it’s better because I only keep around people I want to, and I want you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Insecurities swirl up like a flash flood, ready to ruin everything in its path, including my life, and I can’t stop it.