“Good. Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you later.” He reaches out to me. His hand is still a little chilly when it closes around mine, and he pulls me to my feet.
“Yup. Listen. If you ever need to talk, you can call me.”
“Sure. Catch you later, Wilder.”
“Bye, Whitaker.”
I stare at his back as he leaves the room. That was unexpected. Now that I’ve seen this side of him, I don’t know that it’ll be so easy to maintain the anger that he tends to inspire in me.
Chapter 12
Legacy & Lies
Beau
I’vebeenhidingoutfor the past few days. Recovering from my panic attack. That’s what I tell myself, but I know it’s more about hiding from her. That’s why I was shocked when JJ accosted me this morning and asked me if I was dating Wilder. Apparently, some pictures of her chasing me down after their game have been making the rounds. It’s caused some wild speculation about our relationship. This campus feels far too small sometimes, but maybe it’s only me. Between my family, the hockey teams, and her social media following, we’re not exactly anonymous students.
I swipe away another notification from Sin. She’s trying to rope me into some other public event. As if I don’t have enough on my plate.
My phone vibrates insistently, and I’m about to silence it when I realize it’s a phone call. The screen tells me it’s the one person I can’t ignore without consequences. Dad. Fuck.
“Hello.”
“I’m going to be in Chicago this weekend, and I need you to meet some potential clients with me. The RMH group is looking to develop a new property, and they’re seeking investors. It’s a promising partnership. They’ll be breaking ground next year, so this will be the perfect project for you to work on once you’ve finished school.”
No “hi” or “how are you”. Straight to the point. “Dad, I’ve got a lot going on. I’ve got practice, and a game Sunday afternoon.” Not to mention the economics project due on Monday.
“You need to focus on your priorities. In a few months, hockey will be nothing more than the little game you played in school. It’s time to embrace your responsibilities.”
“I can’t let the team down.”
“You can get here and be back in time for your game if you must. Harrison is bringing his son along. Perfect opportunity to network with the next generation.”
The thought of driving to Chicago and back in time for my Sunday game is exhausting, but there’s no arguing with him. This is what I signed up for. What I promised, so now I’m stuck.
“Fine. Where are we meeting?”
“Au Berge, seven pm. Don’t be late. And wear something conservative.”
Right, even my style doesn’t suit him. It’s not like the bespoke suits I wear after games aren’t as designer as his custom boring grays and blues. They’ve just got a little more pizzazz.
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. See you then.” There’s muttering in the background, so I can tell he’s over the conversation before the line goes dead.
I dig my fingers into the knot just above my shoulder blade. The sharp pain is grounding, but it doesn’t help. I think it’s a permanent fixture in my life now.
There’s a soft knock at my door, and I stand up, brushing a hand down my shirt.
“What’s up?”
“Can I get a ride to school today?”
My best friend’s voice is more tentative than it used to be. Our conversations have lost a little of the ease we developed in our first years at Lakeview. The distance between us hurts, but I haven’t quite been able to rebuild the trust we lost when he was sneaking around with my sister. I know it’s just as much my fault as his, but I don’t quite know how to fix it.
“I’ve got a group meeting for my entrepreneurial project before class.”
That’s right. It’s Wednesday. I’ve got class at ten, but he doesn’t start until one. He used to come in with me anyway. Now he catches a ride with my sister or one of the other guys more often than not.
