Текст книги "Sinful Longing"
Автор книги: Lauren Blakely
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Elle dangled her feet in the stream as the water gurgled between her toes. No socks on now. She was barefoot, and her Converse sneakers were next to her on the path.
The sun beat down hellishly, but tall trees with lush green branches shielded them from the bright rays, and a soft breeze circled. They’d hiked on one of Colin’s favorite trails, which wound its way along a small creek.
“Did that mega intense hike get you all ready for your triathlon?” she teased, nudging him with her elbow as they perched on a rock at the edge of the water.
“Absolutely. Did you know the Badass Triathlon now includes a mile-long nature stroll?”
She pumped a fist. “Excellent. Sounds like my kind of race.”
He draped an arm around her shoulders. “Kind of ironic, too, that you’re the one with the splint and yet you worry about me doing crazy shit.”
She turned to him, dropped her hand to his leg, and squeezed his strong thigh. “I do worry about you, Colin,” she said, meeting his gaze.
He flashed a small smile. “I like that you worry about me.”
“I worried about you yesterday, too. I was worried how you were going to take the news from Marcus,” she said softly. “How was it?”
A bird chirped in a nearby branch, and Colin gazed at the rocks on the other side of the creek as he told her about meeting his half-brother, from the utter shock, to the sparks of humor he said he saw in Marcus, to how Michael and Shan had reacted when he’d told them—which was in much the same way he had. “Honestly, I didn’t know how Michael would take it, since there’s no love lost with him and our mom. I was worried he would want to have nothing to do with Marcus.”
“But he didn’t react that way?”
Colin shook his head. “Oh, he was surprised as hell, and had a few choice words to say about Dora Prince. But he’s always looked out for the younger ones, and I guess Marcus is part of that now. But the whole thing is this big reminder of my mother, and how I barely even know who she is. She’s like this strange, evil magician presiding over all of us from behind bars. Or maybe a master puppeteer, and she pulls all these strings whenever she wants,” he said, holding up his hands to demonstrate an evil mastermind, adding in a cackle.
“She didn’t pull this one,” Elle pointed out. “Marcus came to you on his own.”
He huffed. “I know, but she played her part by never saying a word for years.” He shook his head in disgust. “How do you keep a kid a secret? Why? I don’t get her. I don’t know what language she speaks, if she’s even human. I seriously don’t understand how I’m connected to her. I hate that I’ve ever had anything in common with her.”
He turned to her, the sunlight streaming through the branches and illuminating the deep frustration etched on his handsome face. She ran a hand gently through his hair. “I don’t know her at all, but I hardly think it does you any good to beat yourself up over whether you’re similar to her. You’re such a good person, Colin. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known.”
He cupped her cheek. “Thank you,” he said. But he didn’t seem to hold on to her words because his tone turned dark again as he let go of her face and clenched his fist. “Most of the time, I’ve dealt with the stupid decisions I made as a kid, but sometimes I hate that I had friends with brothers in the Royal Sinners. I can’t believe I even associated with them that way.”
“And you didn’t wind up in it. You didn’t venture down that path.”
“I was such a fuck-up as a teenager,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“Please. It’s not like I have some perfect record as a teen. I got knocked up.”
“Yeah. But something good came of that. Your kid.”
“True. But still, I was pregnant when I graduated high school. Of course I don’t regret it, but my point is, you shouldn’t let the past gnaw at you either. You are your present, and what I see in front of me is pretty great.” A light breeze swirled the water by their feet as he smiled—a soft, tender smile. “Hate is a hard thing to hold on to,” she added. “It can eat away at you.”
He nodded a few times, as if he was letting her remark soak in. “Do you think that’s happening to me?”
“Any time we harbor that sort of hate, it can’t do any good. And it’s all directed at her, but I think you’re mad at yourself too, Colin,” she said softly, placing her hand on his arm, tracing his tattoos that she loved. His skin was warm from the sun.
“Why?”
“Because you’ve struggled with some of the same things your mother struggled with,” she said, stopping to pause before she said the next thing, “I think that’s one of the reasons you have so much hate for her.”
He scoffed. “Not because she, you know, killed my dad?”
“Obviously that is the biggest part of it. And in no way am I advocating you forgive that,” she said firmly, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“Good. Because I won’t and I don’t.”
“Nor should you. But you hate that you have this one small thing in common with her. Perhaps, the person you need to forgive is yourself.” She softened her voice as she said the thing that she knew would be hardest for him to hear. “Maybe to do that, you need to see her.”
He sat ramrod straight, as if he’d been jolted with high-voltage electricity. “Are you kidding me?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not. I’m just putting it out there. This is the social worker in me. But I think you beat yourself up because you used, and she used. And maybe seeing her once will help you to let go of the hate you feel toward her. Because it’s really a part of yourself that you’re mad at.”
He didn’t say anything at first, just ran his hand over his chin and exhaled hard as he stared at the stream. A small bead of worry wormed through her, and she hoped she hadn’t crossed a line with her suggestion, but she didn’t want to take it back, either. She truly wanted him to consider it. “I think seeing her would be less about her and more about you. Almost as a way of making that last amends to yourself,” she said, tapping his chest lightly. “To forgive yourself.”
He looked at her, the corner of his lips curving. “You’re too smart for my own good. So I’ll tell you what. I don’t know that I want to see her, but I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Warmth spread through her at the possibility. She did what she did for a living in order to make a difference, and she wanted to be able to do that for the man she was falling for, too.
“Now I have a question for you,” he said. “Is this from experience? Did you hate Sam?”
She answered immediately. “No. I felt sorry for him. I was sad for him. I felt completely helpless. But I had to let go of all those feelings. He wasn’t a good dad. He wasn’t a good man, and there was nothing I could do to change him. I had to stop fighting all the battles with him. I couldn’t make him a better father. I couldn’t make him stop using.”
He nodded sagely. “You can’t make anyone hit bottom. They have to find it on their own. And man, am I ever glad I found mine. Even if it took collapsing in a race to do it,” he said with a wry note in his voice. “But hey, I’ve come far since then. Hell, I wasn’t even tempted when I saw those pills at your house today.”
She was glad to hear that, but still, she planned to throw them out tonight. She didn’t want to risk it.
* * *
Forgiveness was granted in all of a minute by the fourteen-year-old.
“He’s your brother?” Alex’s jaw dropped, and then he asked Colin for every last detail.
Colin gladly shared the story with Elle’s son over pizza at Gigi’s Pizzeria that night. Alex shook his head in amazement in between bites of cheese pie and drinks of soda. Organic pizza for Colin, of course.
When he was done, Alex said, “I guess I can let it slide, this time, that you missed my mom’s match. That’s a good enough reason. Even though there’s no next time. She’s out for the season.”
“You know what that means?” Colin said, as the waitress cleared the table. “When the Fishnet Brigade wins big, we need to plan an awesome celebration for her and all she did to get the team there.”
“Totally.”
Elle didn’t say much. She simply smiled, and nothing could have made Colin happier than seeing her relaxed and comfortable at dinner with him and the most important person in the world to her. She’d come so far. They’d made it past so much already. He’d never expected to knock down her walls so soon—or at all. But it had happened, and here he was, making his way to the other side with her.
When the check came, Elle reached for it, but he grabbed it sooner and paid. As they left the pizzeria, Colin tossed out a question to Alex. “Ever been to the Zombie Apocalypse store?”
“No,” he said, his eyes wide and curious. “What’s that?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. It’s over in Chinatown. It’s a small shop where you can work on your skills in preparation to do battle with the undead. It’s tongue-in-cheek, lots of novelty items, but it’s all good fun.”
“Mom, can we go?” Alex asked, looking like a dog asking for a bone.
“Only if we can go now,” Elle answered.
The three of them spent the next hour in the odd little store, where Alex plied the store manager for tips on how to stay ahead of the brain-eaters.
It was as perfect a night as a night could be, and Colin wanted to remember it as the start of this whole new chapter with the woman he adored.
* * *
After Alex crashed into bed, Elle grabbed the bottle of pills from her living room table so she could toss them in the trash. On the way to the kitchen, she peered through the orange case. Hmm. She could have sworn there was half of a pill in there from last night. But it was missing now. Twisting open the bottle, she reached inside and counted each one.
The half was gone.
Her stomach plummeted then twisted itself into knots. She winced and looked away from, then back at, the pill container.
No.
She told herself not to panic. He didn’t take it. He simply couldn’t have. She cycled back to last night, and bits and pieces of her own hazy memory played before her eyes. She’d reached for that other half, right? She couldn’t remember taking it. But clearly she must have.
Colin wasn’t Sam.
History wasn’t repeating itself.
This wasn’t déjà vu.
Besides, Colin had distinctly told her he wasn’t even tempted, so she refused to let her mind wander that way. Trust was a choice, and she was making this one. It was the right choice. No question about it.
Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, letting the air settle. No reason to worry. No reason to doubt.
After she got ready for bed, she sent Colin a good night text.
Elle: Had such a great day with you.
His reply landed in seconds.
Colin: Let’s do it again soon. All of it.
She closed out of the text app when a new message appeared. But it wasn’t from Colin. It was from an unknown number.
Hey, pretty lady. Don’t you be messing around with that new guy. WJ.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ryan turned off the engine in his truck, hopped out, and headed inside the convenience store off the highway. He grabbed a bottle of water, walked to the counter, then nodded to the cashier.
His brother.
“That’ll be $1.21.”
“No family discount?” he joked.
Marcus smiled and shook his head. “Sorry, man.”
The convenience store was empty, so Ryan rested his hip against the counter, opened the bottle, and took a gulp. He tapped the plastic. “Can I treat you to a water? It’s hot as hell outside.”
“Sure.”
He returned to the cold shelves, grabbed another bottle, paid for it, too, then handed it to the guy who he used to think was stalking his family. Now he was getting to know the kid. They weren’t instant buddies, and Ryan hadn’t signed the two of them up for Kumbaya-with-your-long-lost-bro classes. But Ryan did want to get to know Marcus, so he was trying to do it in a natural way. He’d taken him to lunch yesterday, the day after they’d met, and Marcus had told him he worked here at this store, saving money for community college, and that he was living with friends.
Which made Ryan wonder if the kid was on the outs with his dad.
His dad was another reason Ryan was here today.
“Listen, Marcus,” he said, as a car pulled up to a gas pump in the lot. “I want to see your dad. I need to talk to Luke because I really want to get some info about the affair and about the pregnancy, and see if it played into why my mom killed my dad.” Those words—they tasted like dry stones on his tongue. For so long he’d believed his mom might be innocent, but he’d been coming to terms and to peace with her guilt. Still, he was determined to help solve the case, and do everything he could to help find the other men involved.
Or at least to learn what had motivated his mother. The better he understood that, the greater the chance the cops had of nailing the other guys. T.J. and Kenny Nelson hadn’t been found yet, and John had said he was still gathering evidence. By all accounts those two had left a trail of destruction behind them over the years, and Ryan’s chest burned with rage over the fact that two killers—as far as he was concerned, they were killers—were walking free.
If it were up to Ryan, he’d have knocked on Luke’s door already, banged hard with his fist, and demanded some fucking answers from the man who’d screwed his mother behind his father’s back then hid the kid he had with her. But he couldn’t do that now. It wouldn’t be fair to Marcus.
“You want to talk to him?” Marcus repeated.
“I want to see what he knows. But to do that,” Ryan said, gesturing from the kid back to himself, “I’d have to let him know I know about you.”
Marcus shook his head. Adamantly. “No. Please no.”
Ryan tilted his head, his radar going off, detecting fear in Marcus’s eyes. “Why? He told you about your mom. You said it wasn’t a secret.”
“I know. But he doesn’t know I talked to you guys.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“He would freak.”
“Are you sure?” Ryan was asking for himself, but for Marcus, too. He didn’t want to see this kid heading down the path of secrets like Ryan had done.
“I just don’t think he’d be happy about it. He was worried for so long, and I didn’t tell him I was going to meet you guys. I haven’t seen him much since I moved out.”
“Why not?”
Marcus shoved a hand through his hair. “We don’t always agree. That’s all I can say. If he knows I’m talking to you, then he’s going to worry about Stefano’s friends. About Kenny and T.J. He’s going to think they’ll come after my sisters and my mom.”
“But is that a real threat? If it is, maybe we need to deal with it, rather than ignore it,” Ryan said in a calm voice. “I can help you with that, you know. That’s the business I’m in.”
Marcus leaned forward and placed his palms on the counter. “See, I have no idea. All I know is he’s terrified of Stefano’s friends. I heard him talk to my stepmom when I was younger, telling her those guys threatened him—that if he said anything they’d go after him. He’s made them out to be the bogeyman. Hell, the other day some dude with a goatee came in here chomping on potato chips and bitching about not having an iPhone, and for a split second, I started thinking he was one of them.”
“Because he didn’t have an iPhone?” Ryan asked, knitting his brow.
“No,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “Because he was…I don’t know. He just seemed the type of guy who’d stir shit up. That’s all.”
“Fine, I hear you. He set off your radar, and you gotta listen to that. But you really should talk to the detective. Are you going to?”
“I will. Soon. I was supposed to, but had to cancel because I got called into work, and then my car was in the shop. I know I need to see him.”
“Are you worried your dad doesn’t want you to talk to him?”
“I don’t know,” Marcus said, barely audible.
Ryan had no choice but to relent. He didn’t know Luke Carlton well enough to understand how he affected Marcus. But he’d have to work with this wrinkle, not against it.
“Hey, do you want to come over for dinner sometime?” he asked, his voice dry and crackly. It was an awkward request, and he wasn’t honestly sure what to do with it. But Sophie had insisted he ask, so he was doing it.
Marcus’s eyes lit up. “That’d be cool.”
“I’ll make sure to invite the whole crew. Michael, Shan, Brent. We can have Colin and Elle, and Alex, too. If you’d like.”
“I would,” he said with a smile.
He had the sense that Marcus had been missing something his whole life, and it wasn’t his biological mother. It was a connection to the rest of his family. That was easy enough for Ryan to give. He left as a new customer walked in to pay for gas.
* * *
After the customer left, Marcus dropped his forehead to the register. His heart beat furiously as if he’d been sprinting. His hands were clammy. That was what talking about his dad did to him.
Freaked him the fuck out. Damn near set off an anxiety attack.
He couldn’t tell his dad that he’d found the Sloans. He just couldn’t take the chance yet. He’d already taken a big enough risk meeting them. But knowing they existed had gnawed at him for years, and he’d longed to know them, especially since he’d never been close with his father.
He didn’t agree with the decisions his father had made. At the same time though, his father had raised him and taken care of him. He’d been a decent enough dad.
His phone buzzed and he looked up. His stepmom had texted. How did you do on your math test? Any results yet? Fingers crossed.
His heartbeat turned more regular as he wrote back. Got ’em earlier today. Aced it!
An emoticon-filled reply landed on his screen. Sundaes at Baskin Robbins to celebrate with the girls?
He replied with a yes, reminding himself that he had to think of her and his sisters. It had been one thing for him to reach out to his family on his mother’s side, but it would be entirely another for him to try to arrange some sort of a reintroduction of Ryan to his father.
Nope. Couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go there. His dad didn’t want to revisit the past. Besides, there were too many people who wanted a piece of his dad, like Stefano’s friends. His father had taught him to fear them. To keep quiet. They were rogue, uncontrollable men.
The bells rang and he raised his face. A hot blonde wearing tight shorts wandered in. She bought a cherry Slushee and started drinking it as he rang her up. Her pretty lips on the straw made him stop thinking about his family for now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Good thing we don’t have a dog. Or a cat,” Alex said as he pulled up a stool to settle in at the kitchen counter on Monday morning. He shot her a gotcha stare.
Elle quirked up her eyebrows as she served him eggs for his first-day-of-school breakfast. “Why is that a good thing? Because you’d have pet hair on your new T-shirt?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Because if we did, Fido would be all happy right now.” Alex plunked half a pill on the Formica, and her heart leapt like a ballet dancer.
She wanted to kiss the damn pill. “Oh, thank God,” she said, exhaling in relief.
“That we don’t have a pet who nearly ate your Percocet?”
She smiled so broadly she couldn’t contain it. She trembled with relief. “Yes. Exactly. Where did you find it?”
He pointed at the couch. “In between the couch cushions.”
She flashed back to Friday night when she’d hurt her thumb. She’d reached for the bottle to take the second half-pill, but she must have dropped it right before she fell asleep. She grabbed the pill from the counter, tossed it in the sink, and ran water over it, washing it down the drain. Though she’d already chosen to believe Colin hadn’t pilfered it, seeing evidence that he was on a steady path was a relief.
A huge one.
Now if only she could figure out who had texted her. She had no clue, so after she took Alex to school, while waiting in her car until she saw him walk through the front doors and safely inside, she called Colin and told him about “WJ’s” creepy text from Saturday night.
“Come to my office. Let me see the text.”
Twenty minutes later he was studying the message at his desk. Hey, pretty lady. Don’t you be messing around with that new guy. WJ.
“It doesn’t even have my name on it. Is there any chance it was just an error? Maybe it was meant for someone else?” she suggested, as she clasped the hope that she wasn’t the target of some strange stalker, calling her a pretty lady and warning her to stay away from her new man.
“That would be great if it was just a mistake,” he said, but his tone was completely pragmatic and she could tell he didn’t think “oops, that was meant for someone else” was a likely scenario.
Nor did she. “Except I got a strange Facebook comment, too,” she said, then told him about the hazy memory from the other night, including how odd the name was on the post. “It was gone as quickly as it was posted.”
“Who was it from?”
“I can’t remember. I was loopy on pain meds. But it wasn’t a real name. It was like some weirdly menacing roller derby name, but for a guy.”
He nodded and listened intently, her phone in his hand. He’d shifted into all-business Colin, and she sensed this was the newest challenge he was about to take on. He opened a browser window on his computer, and tapped the number into a reverse phone search. It showed up as unavailable. “Pretty sure this text came from a burner phone. If I looked up your number, it would show the wireless carrier it’s registered to. A burner phone isn’t registered, so it’s hard to trace. Let me see what I can do, though.” He set down the phone, cupped her cheeks, and met her gaze once more. “I promise, Elle. I’ll fix this for you.”
She didn’t know how he could, but she loved that he wanted to. Loved, too, that he pulled her close and brushed his lips on her forehead. Loved that he wanted to take care of her. No one had taken care of her in years. She wrapped her arms around him and breathed him in—his clean, freshly showered, morning scent. She stayed like that for several minutes, there at his office, curled up with him. This was where she wanted to be when times were good, and this was where she wanted to be when times were tough.
The next day, he stopped by the center to tell her he’d tried to apply an IP tracer, then a prototype for a new phone security app, then even a silly app that let users spoof friends with anonymous text messages. None revealed the sender’s info.
“Do you think it’s about us?” she asked him, worry in her tone. That was all she could figure. That someone was trying to stop her from seeing him. “Do you think it’s from your ex? That woman you said sent you angry messages?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. I haven’t heard from her in a year. That’s so over it’s beyond over.”
“Who do you think is sending these to me?”
“I don’t know. But I’m not going to stop until I find out.”
* * *
All the fucking technology in the world at his fingertips and no one could trace a goddamn burner phone?
“Tell me, Larsen. Tell me when you get a pitch for a company that has that tech, and we’re getting in on the seed funding round,” he said, frustration thick in his voice as he sifted through app stores, past pitches from scrappy startups and app makers, and all the presentations he’d ever heard on new technology, with Larsen by his side, hunting, too. The two of them were parked on the couch by his coffee table, furiously searching for any startup, any technology they’d ever been pitched that could help their cause.
Were the drug dealers who used them really so far ahead that they’d found the one fail-safe method of covering their tracks?
“I’m on it,” Larsen said with a crisp nod. “My ears are peeled. Or is that eyes?”
“Eyes are peeled. Ears are open,” Colin said, tapping his temple, then his ears. “But none of it’s working. My brothers don’t even have tools to do this, and that’s the business they’re in. Security.”
“Isn’t that the point though? Not to go all Internet privacy on you, but isn’t that why burner phones exist? Because people feel like they have no privacy. Facebook won’t even tell you who sends you creepy messages because of privacy guidelines.”
He sat up straight. “What did you just say?” The cogs whirred in Colin’s head.
“Facebook won’t even tell you who sends you creepy messages because of privacy guidelines?” Larsen repeated tentatively, furrowing his brow.
An idea hit him—it was out of left field, but sometimes the best ideas were born there. He latched onto something Detective John Winston had said.
The gang culture, oddly enough, loves social media. They post pictures of themselves online, on Instagram and Facebook, holding wads of bills from their drugs, or showing off phones they stole.
“You’re brilliant,” Colin said to Larsen, then flipped open his laptop, logged into Facebook, and started hunting. There were many ways to solve a problem. You could tackle it point by point, or you could go wide and surround the problem.
He’d had no success tracing the number, so rather than go from number to name, he’d have to amass a list of possible names and see what matched. He rolled up the cuffs on his white shirt—nothing ventured, nothing gained—and spent the next few hours digging into Facebook and Instagram for images of the Royal Sinners.
Don’t mess with the Royal Sinners.
That was what they said about themselves.
Those were the words used in Elle’s messages.
Don’t you be messing around…
Whoever WJ was, he had effectively identified himself as a gang member in the text. Gang members had nicknames—weirdly menacing ones. WJ wanted to own his intimidation, and Colin was determined to find him.
Colin had something these gang guys didn’t have.
Ingenuity. Resourcefulness. And one hell of a brain. He knew how to use his head to solve a problem. As he hunted, he unearthed a braggart’s den. He found a treasure trove of images, just as John had said he would. Young guys holding wads of cash. Guys aiming guns at the camera. Others pointing to the ink on their arms. Protect Our Own.
He captured screenshots. He saved images. He took notes. He checked geotags on Instagram. He studied the pins on the back of images.
He did it again the next day.
And the next.
And the next.
He didn’t have an answer, or a name, or a number. But he had a database now. Soon, WJ would tag something. That was what these guys did. Then he’d zero in on him.
* * *
Two Elles.
Over the next few days she returned to her split self. Only this time she was Happy-Go-Lucky Elle, and she was Sleeping-With-One-Eye-Open Elle.
Her schedule was packed with work, and school pick-ups, and the start of Alex’s first history project of the year, and cooking dinner for her son. It was stuffed with Colin playing a few rounds of State of Decay with him, and then basketball with Rex, Tyler, Marcus, and Alex at the center. Tomorrow was jam-packed, too—during the day she had a board meeting with the center’s directors over the remodeling progress, and at night Ryan was proposing to Sophie. He’d planned a surprise family celebration for Sophie afterward.
Life was almost too good to be true.
Almost.
Because there, in the background, slinking over her shoulder was her phone stalker. WJ.
She hadn’t said a word about it to her son. He didn’t need to know. It was his first week of school, and she wanted him to be able to focus on being a freshman. But she needed desperately to talk to someone.
“It’s been three days since the text message. Maybe it’s all over,” she said to her sister as she visited with her at the Skyway rink on Thursday evening.
“Let’s hope so. Did you get a new cell phone like I told you to?”
“What’s the point?” she asked as Camille straightened up napkins and straws at the snack counter. “My number is on the center’s website. Anyone can get it.”
Camille gave her a pointed look. “Maybe it shouldn’t be so easy to reach you.”
She drummed her nails against the counter. “I want the boys to be able to reach me. That’s the point of doing what I do. To be accessible. To be a resource for them. I can’t shut myself off from the world.”
“Just be careful. Because someone clearly doesn’t like your boyfriend if they’re sending you messages not to mess around with him.”
Elle sighed heavily and twisted her hair into a makeshift ponytail. “I know. It just makes no sense.”
“Maybe it’s an angry ex of his. Someone who’s pissed you have your claws in him?” Camille suggested, reminding Elle about Colin’s ex who lashed out when he broke up with her.
“I don’t think so. Why would she sign it WJ?”
Camille shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe WJ stands for Whack Job.”
Elle cracked up, the first good laugh she’d had in days.
Twenty minutes later, she picked up Alex from Janine’s house. He’d been working on a history project with Janine’s son. In the past she’d have let Alex take public transportation home, but there was no way she was letting him on the city bus with WJ hanging over her. No way, no how, not going to happen.
She chatted briefly with Janine on the porch then headed to the car, waving good-bye. “Good luck this weekend. I’ll be there cheering you on, though it’ll pain me not to skate,” Elle said.
“It’ll pain me more not to have my favorite blocker,” Janine said with a pout.
“Are you going to come with me to the final match this weekend?” Elle asked Alex once they were inside the car.
“Can I stay home and hang out by myself?”
She flinched at the idea, gripping the steering wheel. “No. I want you to come with me.”
“But why? You’re not even skating. I just want to hang at home. Play Xbox and stuff.”
“We’ll have fun. We’ll get pizza at the rink,” she said through pursed lips. She didn’t tell him the truth—that she could barely stomach letting him out of her sight.
He kicked his foot against the floor of the passenger seat.
“Alex, don’t do that,” she said, as she changed lanes.
“I just don’t feel like going. First you won’t let me take the bus, and you always let me take it last year. You’re treating me like a baby. Now I have to go to a game you’re not even skating in. Can’t I just chill? What if Rex and Tyler come over?”
But before she could say no one more time, her phone buzzed in the console.
“Want me to see if that’s Colin?” Alex asked, grabbing the phone.
“I’ll look at it later,” she said hastily, as the truck in front of her slowed. She didn’t want Alex seeing any messages from Colin, though they hadn’t exchanged many dirty ones lately. Still, her phone was private. It was hers.
