Dawson’s room is on the main floor in a converted den. Beck, Chase, Jax, and I live upstairs. I’m in the primary, and before anyone asks, I did pull the captain card. Not to be a dick, but there was no way I was sharing a bathroom for another year with Jaxon. After freshman year, I had paid my dues—luckily, Beck is a clean freak and makes him clean it on Fridays before he’s allowed to go out.
Beck’s dad bought the house. He won’t talk about why it frustrates him when you ask about it, but his eyes become blue-tipped daggers, and he walks away, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
I love our house. The proximity to campus and the rink. The way we’ve allowed it to be a revolving door to our teammates and friends. It’s never quiet, never empty.
It’s a distraction.
Elliot reappears, a bowl of fruit and water nestled in one arm.
“This was at our apartment.” She drops a beanie into my lap.
I look down at it. Run the material between my fingers.
When I walked away from Sutton in the library, I didn’t bother to pick up my hat. I readjusted the backpack hanging off one shoulder, spinning on my heels, and bolting. I didn’t care about anything else, except getting away at that moment.
I felt it when my grip tightened on the chair. A lightning bolt through my body, constricting my heart and suffocating me.
I glance down at the black hat and am struck again.
You’re around people, Carmichael, you can’t do this here,one version of me coaches.They can’t see you like this, what would they think?
I pass the controller to Elliot. “Here. You play. Bottom right screen with the blue turtle shell.”
She takes it from me, an inquisitive set to her face as she watches me leave. Jaxon and Chase are too focused on the race to comment on me getting up, the couch breathing with my removed weight.
The jingle of someone crossing the finish line follows me up the stairs and drifts under my door as I close it behind me and lock it.
My room is dark, only lit by the desk lamp. A yellow haze casts a shadow of me pacing back and forth on the wall.
Did Sutton tell her?
Why didn’t Sutton bring this back? Does she hate me that much?
Is Elliot going to tell my friends? Or who else?
I tug my phone out of my Levi’s. Swipe it open and go to Sutton’s text thread, her contact still the nickname I gave her in middle school, and reread her last message.
Dave
Cooper, don’t make me beg. I don’t have another option.
That was two days ago. I haven’t responded till now.
Did you tell Elliot?
Her response is immediate. Surprisingly. She’s not the best texter—at least in our group text, she never responds, but that could be because of me. I try not to read too much into it, evenbeforeshe was never the best texter, always preferred passing notes or talking on the phone.
Dave
Huh?
She gave me back the hat I wore to our first session.
Dave
I’d hardly call that a ‘session’ when you stormed off in the first two minutes.
Did you tell her?
