Page 33 of Let Me Love You
“You sure?” I whisper.
And I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why this one seems different. But it does. The tightness in Colt’s jaw. The anger and frustration emanating from him. The way he can’t look at me. The alcohol swirls in my gut, leaving me nauseated as I stare at the side of his face.
This is what Buchanan was talking about. The drama following Colt around. The question is, why didn’t Colt tell me about it? Is he hiding something?
We don’t keep secrets from each other. We’ve never kept secrets from each other.
Sensing the shift in the air, he turns to me, his brows pulled low. “I’ll figure it out, Sunshine. Promise. Let’s go inside.”
I let go of his damaged hand and tuck my hair behind my ear. “Okay.”
And man, how I want to believe him.
10
THEO
“Come on, man. You sure you gotta sell the Taylor House?” Tukani whines as he laces up his skates.
Coach Sanderson was nice enough to let the team and its former players scrimmage on Saturday mornings at the rink. And even though I’m officially a graduate, I’m not ready to give them up. Pretty sure it’s one of the main things I’ll miss from my college hockey career. All right, that’s a lie. I love the games. The crowds. Even the fucking cowbells are a familiar constant.
But the practices and team scrimmages have always been fun, a time to let loose and shoot the shit without the added pressure of scouts or opposing teams.
I’ll miss my teammates. Especially the ones I’ve lived with. They’re more like brothers than anything else, and even though it’s inevitable since all of us are going our separate ways, leaving them is still a bitch to swallow.
Shoving aside the melancholy thoughts and the reminder of how quickly everything is changing, I slap my hand against Tukani’s shoulder. “I’m not the one selling it. Mama Taylor is. Sorry, man.”
With a groan, he stands up and grabs his gloves. “This fucking sucks. Where am I gonna live for my senior year?”
“You’ll figure it out,” I tell him. “Hell, maybe even Gwyn will let you sleep on her couch.”
Tukani snorts but doesn’t deny it.
“I’ll meet you on the ice,” I add.
As he heads down the tunnel toward the rink, I grab my hockey stick from my locker and find Logan smirking at something on his cell.
“Surprised you came,” I say to him.
He looks up, shoves his phone into his locker, and pulls his skates out. “I had to wake up early, anyway.”
“Snuck out of a random girl’s bed again?” I quip.
He grins shamelessly. “You know how the Kappa Pi’s are. Besides, I heard there was some drama with Colt at SeaBird last night. Wanted to hear more about it.”
Yeah, same old Logan. Sticking his nose in shit that has nothing to do with him.
I heard about the outburst last night too. Thankfully, Buchanan was still at the bar and overheard the commotion. He offered the paparazzi some cash to stay quiet and not press charges. The guy agreed, as long as he could post a photo from last night. Thankfully, he did promise it wouldn’t have anything to do with Colt’s fist smashing into his face.
Reluctantly, Buchanan agreed, muttering under his breath something about whether or not Colt was worth the headache.
Buchanan’s right to be worried. Despite Colt’s desire to blend in, there’s something about the asshole attracting more attention than anyone else I’ve ever seen, and the season hasn’t even started yet.
I shake off the thought and offer Logan my hand, helping him up despite our shit from last year. We might not be as close as we used to be, but we’re still friends, even when he acts like a dick.
“Come on, man. Let’s go play.”
Colt, Burrows, Tukani, and Austin are already on the ice, along with a few more players. They’re warming up, skating around the rink, and talking shit together. Helmets are lined up on the half-wall separating the bench from the arena, along with a few LAU water bottles. Colt’s off to one side, lost in his own head, hitting the puck into the open net on the opposite side of the rink as if three defenders are on his ass, and he could be checked at any second.