I knowthe Tylenol is wearing off the moment nausea hits me like a bus.
Coach is on the phone to the dean, uhming and yesing, not giving too much away. I’ve already received about twenty messages calling me a whole host of creative insults, which is deserved, I’d say.
Faulkner doesn’t believe me. I can tell by how he’s watching me as he mumbles into the phone, but his hands are tied, and I gave him an out he desperately needed.
He could lose his team for God knows how long because nobody would ever say it was them. Alternatively, he can lose me temporarily and have me back before the season is in full swing. It was a risk on my part, I’ll admit, since I don’t know what the punishment is but the longer we drag it out, the more my team suffers, and the more I want to beat the shit out of Aaron.
At least if I knock Aaron out I’d have something to be guilty of.
He puts the phone back in its cradle. “You don’t play until he can skate again. That’s what the dean said. You can come to games in your suit, but you sit and watch. You don’t train with the team, and you can’t be part of any team-related activities other than traveling.”
“Do you know how long he’s out for?”
“No. He’s seeing a specialist this evening and we should know then. It will be two weeks minimum based on the bruising on his wrist and hip. He hasn’t broken anything, so rest and a few mobility actions should be enough, but his parents are demanding he gets a second opinion to be on the safe side.” He drags a hand down his face, and when I take a second to look at him properly, he seems about as ill and exhausted as I do. “He obviously lifts his girlfriend when they skate, so they don’t want to put her at risk if he’s not going to be strong enough in two weeks.”
“She’s not his girlfriend.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can even stop them and his eyes instantly close in on me. Fuck.
“If I find out this is over a woman, Hawkins, so help me God, I’ll kill you myself. I’m not totally clueless. I know this doesn’t add up, but what am I supposed to do when you tell me you did it?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and I wish I had something to offer him in the way of an explanation.
“I don’t have the energy to scream at you right now; I’m too disappointed. I suggest you tell your guardian about this shit show because I do not want angry emails when you’re not playing. Now get the hell out of my office—I’ll call you later in the week.”
The walk to my car feels like a marathon, but I eventually make it, immediately reaching for painkillers and a bottle of water I stored in the glove box.
My phone is still blowing up, and I finally force myself to look at it because the guys deserve answers.
PUCKBUNNIES
JOE CARTER: Hawkins, you fucking turnip. What the hell is happening?
BOBBY HUGHES: Not been this stressed since I found out condoms aren’t 100% effective.
JAIDEN JOHAL: Excuse me? What was that now?
KRIS HUDSON: How are we supposed to play without a captain?
JAIDEN JOHAL: No let’s not move past the condom thing?????????
NATE HAWKINS: Can’t practice or play until Aaron can skate.
MATTIE LIU: How long is that?
NATE HAWKINS: *shrug emoji*
NATE HAWKINS: Going to Stassie’s place to try to talk to her.
NATE HAWKINS: See you all later.
My head is still throbbing, and I’ve never been as grateful for a car that drives itself as I am right now.
JJ texted me her apartment number since I’ve never been invited around and don’t know it. He was here on Saturday to drop off his jersey, so I hedge my bets that she hasn’t taken his name off the visitor list and give his name to the guy in the lobby. It works and thankfully he doesn’t ask me to provide ID. He hands me a temporary code to make the elevator work and tells me it’ll work for twenty-four hours.
It makes me happy that she lives in such a safe and secure building. When she’s not angry with me, and I’m not essentially committing fraud to gain entry, I’m going to mention I managed to lie my way in here.
But now is not the time.
Maple Tower is said to be the best accommodation Maple Hills offers, and I can see why—the whole block is luxurious and beautiful. Part of me wonders how Stas can afford it because I doubt her Saturday teaching job pays enough, and I know her scholarship doesn’t cover accommodation. But then I get to her door, apartment 6013, and right underneath the numbers in cursive, it says, The Carlisle Residence.
I take a deep breath and knock on the door a few times, hard but not frantic. I don’t want her to think I’m here for a fight because I’m not.
I can’t tell if the cramping in my stomach is anxiety or because my body and my brain are giving up. But the urge to vomit intensifies when the door pulls back, and Aaron is on the other side of it, only wearing basketball shorts.
“I’m here to see Anastasia. Can you get her for me, please?” I ask calmly. I want to scream at him, call him a liar, pummel my fist into his obnoxious fucking face, but I don’t.
He smiles at me. I swear I’m not imagining it, he smiles and moves to the side and opens the door wider, holding out his bandaged arm to indicate for me to come inside.
“She’s in her room,” he chirps, closing the door behind me.
“I don’t know which one that is,” I say, lifting an eyebrow. “I haven’t been here before.”
He shrugs and the fake smile drops. “Middle door. The one next to the table with flowers.”
“Thanks,” I murmur back, making my way toward it. He’s being too nice, too calm, and it’s putting my entire body on edge. I’m waiting for whatever he’s so pleased about to show itself.
I tap lightly on the door, but I don’t get an answer. So I try again, and this time I hear a sob. “Go away, Aaron!”
I take my chances and push the door open, and right before me is why Aaron was so happy to let me in. Ryan is propped up against her headboard, one arm wrapped around her and the other stroking her hair as she sits between his legs and sobs into his chest. This is what Aaron wanted me to see, but the only reason my heart fucking aches is because she looks broken.
They both look at me simultaneously, wildly different expressions on their faces, but hers is unmistakable.
Betrayal.
“Get out,” she says, her voice cracking. She twists in Ryan’s arms and uses the back of her hands to wipe the tears from her eyes. “You lied to me again! You promised you didn’t do anything, and you lied, Nathan.”
“Stassie, please. Can we talk? I promise I didn’t do anything.”
“Stop promising me things!” she screams, her entire body shaking as sobs rack through her. Ryan buries his head into her hair, muttering something I can’t hear, but her eyes are glued to me. “The dean told Aaron’s parents, Nate! I know you’ve been dropped! I know it was you!”
I feel like I can’t breathe. My head is throbbing and I desperately want to tell her everything that’s happened today, but all I can concentrate on is the white stab of pain in my head and the burning behind my eyes.
Ryan lifts Stas and puts her on the bed beside him. “You good, Hawkins?” he asks, sliding off the bed. “You don’t look so great right now, buddy. Do you need to sit down? You need water?”
My head begins to spin as I feel Ryan’s arms on my shoulders, navigating me backward until my legs hit a chair and I sit down.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asks, panic in her voice.
I bring my palms to my eyes and drop my head between my legs, taking deep breaths. I can’t take any more painkillers, so it’s pointless asking.
Ending up in Coach’s office put too much of a gap between the last dose wearing off and the new dose kicking in, and now I’m paying for it while also embarrassing myself.
Great.
Her soft hands press against my forehead, and I can’t help but lean into her touch. She’s never going to let me near her again. I just wish the moment wasn’t ruined by the hot twinge in my brain and my entire body feeling like it’s being crushed bit by bit.
“Migraine. I’ll drive home. Will come back when we can talk,” I manage to whisper. “He can’t drive,” is the last thing I hear.