Alexei points over us. “The locker room is—”
“I know where it is. I train here. I’m a figure skater.”
“My girlfriend is a gymnast,” Zach says proudly, an excited smile blooming across his face. “Finley Harris. She’s kind of famous. Not, like, famous-famous, but she’s—”
Alexei puts a hand on his shoulder. “Zach.”
“Right. Sorry. I’ve been told I talk about her too much.”
Well, that’s so cute I want to vomit. I’d always wanted that level of support from my partner.
“If it doesn’t bother her, I wouldn’t worry about it, dude,” Brooks says.
I bump into Brooks’s side. “Since when did you become a sap?”
Brooks puts his hands on my shoulder. “Excuse my sister, she’s anti-love.”
“What? No, I’m not,” I protest as Brooks begins to lead me away from the guys.
“Anyway, thanks again,” Brooks calls over his shoulder. “Go Wolves.”
I maneuver out of Brooks’s grip, tell him to wait about ten feet from the locker room, and head inside. Thea is sitting on the bench, still in her hockey gear, scrolling on her phone. She looks up, eyes red-rimmed. I want to throttle whichever one of those jerks hurt her.
“Isla?” Her tone is flat, emotionless.
“Hey, Thea, you all right?”
“Fine.”
I gesture to the seat beside her. “Mind if I sit?”
She shrugs.
“I guess you know why I’m here,” I say.
She nods, lowering her phone to her lap.Progress. “I figured my uncles would send someone because they’re out of town helping my grandpa.”
“You wanna tell me what happened?”
She crosses her arms over her body. “No.”
“Fair enough. I hate talking about my feelings.”
“Did Uncle Wes sound mad?”
I shake my head. “No. Both of your uncles were worried about you.”
Thea rubs her palms into her eyes and sucks in a deep breath. “Uncle Wes pays for my hockey stuff. My mom doesn’t think I know. He hides it, too. He’s weird about that stuff.”
I place my feet against the locker in front of me. “What stuff?”
“Money and helping out. He does a lot for my mom, but they pretend that he doesn’t. I don’t know, it’s like he doesn’t want the attention or something. I think my mom gets embarrassed.”
A million questions flood my brain, all centered on a certain man I shouldn’t think about at all. I’m about to change the subject when Thea speaks again. “I hope he doesn’t want to stop helping me.”
The sentiment punctures my heart. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“How do you know?”
