Page 49 of The Substitute (New York Gods #4)

FORTY-ONE

SAVAGE

Ihaven’t heard from Tobi in a little while. He must be napping or something. I pick up my phone to check it one more time before we go onto the ice, finally seeing a message from him. I smile and open it, but my blood runs cold.

Tobi: Thanks for telling me you’re a hockey player.

What do I even say to that? I haven’t lied to him, but I sure as fuck didn’t go out of my way to tell him. At first, it was because I didn’t want to be compared to Ambrose, and then I didn’t know how. None of that is an excuse, I know that, but I have no idea how to even reply to him.

“You coming?” Lovelace asks.

“Yeah, in a sec.”

I stare at my phone for another minute before sending a message.

Savage: I’m sorry.

I didn’t want to leave him on read, but I also don’t have time to come up with a proper response. Simple would have to do if I’m not already blocked. I don’t wait to see if my message delivers, throwing my phone in my cubby.

I’m spinning out by the time I step on the ice.

I have to get out of my head, or this game is going to be a disaster.

But I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be on the fucking ice while Tobi is slipping through my fingers.

I love hockey, but I’ve always known it can’t be my future.

Not after watching my dad descend into rage because of CTE from too many concussions.

I swore on his deathbed, as I looked at a version of my dad I hated, that I would never become that.

So I promised myself I would be done after college, and now that I’m in the home stretch, if I lose Tobi because of hockey like I lost my dad, I’ll never forgive myself or this game.

The puck drops, and I force all the images of my dad and Tobi out of my head. But they bleed back through. Every flick of the puck brings one or both back to mind.

First shot of the game sails right past my head, and I barely bite back a scream, tightening my grip on my stick so I don’t throw it. Only a minute left in the period, and it takes everything in me not to walk off the ice.

Lovelace corners me when we make it back to the locker room. “What’s going on?”

“Who said there is anything going on?” I know he’ll see right through me, but I can’t let it out, not now, or I’m going to fully lose it. I keep thoughts of my father in a box in the closet of my mind for a reason. Opening that box is too hard while trying to be a functioning person.

“You could have blocked that shot in your sleep.”

“Everyone has a bad game sometimes.”

Lovelace raises his brows. “You’re not smiling, and you’ve never said a game was bad—ever, let alone before it was over.”

Fuck.

“You know me too well. Stop.” I take a seat on the bench and mess with my skates.

“We live together. Do you expect me to just not perceive you?”

“It would be nice, okay?” I laugh because I know how ridiculous it sounds.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Tobi found out I play hockey.”

He doesn’t understand, and it shows on his face. “How the fuck would he not know you play hockey? It’s like half your life.”

“He doesn’t like hockey players. His brother plays for Summerset, and his ex-best friend… It’s a long story.”

“So you lied to him? That’s kinda fucked up.”

“I didn’t lie to him so much as strategically leave it out.”

Lovelace rolls his eyes. “That’s still lying.”

I hold up my middle finger even though he’s right. “I fucking know. It snowballed before I realized how important he is.”

“You in love with him, bro?”

“I think so.”

“Shit.”

“I know, and I may have just let hockey ruin it.”

“You’re in your head about your dad now, too, aren’t you?”

“Can you not read my mind? It’s kinda fucking low.” It’s taking everything in me to not walk out of the arena and get on a flight back. I can’t let this go another day. I have to see him.

“Not my fault I listen when you talk to me. I’m not going to be a worse friend because it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Dick.”

Lovelace grins. “It’s a nice dick, too.”

I make a face and pick up my phone. The text was delivered, but it’s not showing as read, and he hasn’t replied.

I pull up Ambrose’s location, which he doesn’t know I have.

My stomach drops when I see he’s in the dorm.

I blow up the map as big as possible, like I can possibly tell what part of the room he’s in.

His phone looks like he’s in bed with Tobi, which is probably just in my head, but who else would have told him about hockey? They have to be talking.

Fuck. Did I fuck up by encouraging Tobi to talk to him?

No.

I know that was the right thing to do, and even if he breaks up with me, that’s my own fault. I did the right thing for both of them, even if it means they are meant to be and not Tobi and me.

“You leaving?” Lovelace asks.

“Stop with the fucking mind reading!”

I didn’t leave, as much as I wanted to, I finished the game.

We lost. I hate myself for it, but I allow myself to grieve all that hockey has taken from me after the game.

I still love the game. I always will. I was raised in arenas and on the ice.

I’ve been skating as long as I could walk.

Playing is like breathing, but I’ve found new life in medicine and now Tobi.

I hope I haven’t ruined it before it’s even fully started.

Thankfully, Boston to NYC isn’t a long flight, and we land pretty early the next morning. I make Lovelace take my bag home and head right from the airport to Tobi’s. Standing at his door, I hesitate to knock. I have to make peace with the fact that he might not want to see me.

I finally knock, and it’s no surprise when my step-brother opens the door.

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

“I know.”

“Why’d you tell him?” I ask at length because it’s been eating at me, too.

“Because he deserves to know, and you weren’t telling him.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Had to win that bad? I told him to talk to you.” I want to tell him how much I fought for him, how I’ve always had his back, but he sees me as the enemy when none of it was my fault.

If I could have stopped his dad myself, I would have, but we were both just fucking kids.

“It’s not about winning.” He shakes his head. “He told me.”

I nod. Do I give up? Leave? Fight? Wait for him to call me? I can’t make him talk to me if he doesn’t want to. My heart is so heavy.

“Tell him I said I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Tobi says from behind Ambrose.

“I didn’t even see you there.”

“Ambrose is a good shield.”

I wince. “Is this it?”

“I don’t know, Savage…wait, it’s not a nickname is it?”

“No.”

“It’s your last name.” Tobi shakes his head. “I’m so stupid. How did I not see it.”

“You didn’t care that Ambrose is a hockey player.” It’s stupid to pick this fight, but I have to say something. I can’t just let him go without a fight.

“I did care, but I got over it. And he didn’t hide it from me!” Tobi shoves between Ambrose and the door frame to face me. He doesn’t look good—like he’s been crying.

“I didn’t hide it. Not really.”

“You lied to me every time you went out of town for a game!”

“No, I did not! I never said where I was. Just said I was busy. Go through our messages. Every time I said I was at an interview, I was. I would never lie to you.”

“How can I trust you?” Tobi asks.

“I don’t know. I want to earn your trust back.”

But he doesn’t need me. He has my brother, and I won’t even blame him if he picks Ambrose.

“I don’t know either, Savage.”

I want to hope, but as I walk back to my place, I know there isn’t any.