Of course I’d never admit it out loud to her, because I don’t know how this is going to end between us and it’s not even begun. But she’s here, wearing my gray sweats with the dragon logo in red on one side, and a red T-shirt that hasmylast name on the back in white, which makes me want to fuck her.
Maybe this is the beginning.
But finding love with a girl who was running from a guy she slept with because he was mad she also slept with his best friend, only to find both of them dead within the same week… It seems like a story doomed to end in failure.
Or worse.
While Coach doesn’t seem to think Will Barbour’s death will even hit the circle of me or Sylvan or anyone else on the team for that matter, I’m not convinced.
The detectives are taking their sweet time releasing any information at all, and there’s been no public persons of interest or suspects.
Which means we could definitely still make that list.
Right now, sitting on the circular couch in my entertainment room—Neve rolled her eyes when I called it that after leading her up to the third floor—what I’m really curious about is Sylvan’s connection to Jackson and Will. He’d deny they have any, and Neve doesn’t seem to think they do either. And do I really believe my right winger is a murderer? Some days, especially lately,Iwant to killhim.
But something feels off about the whole thing.
Is it the work of a serial killer? Canada has those. I think of Paul Bernardo and push the case from my mind. But in Drayton? Seems unlikely. Then again, no city is ever completely crime free. People are people everywhere.
And after Neve asked me about Sylvan’s home life and I realized I know absolutely nothing personal about him, I feel uneasy.
But much less so with Neve beside me, both of us covered in blankets. She seemed delighted—and shocked—that I had any at all when she spotted the four stacked up and piled neatly in a wicker basket at the end of the couch.
Mom and Rachel helped me decorate this place, so I can’t take all the credit, but who the fuck doesn’t have blankets?
The TV mounted on the wall opposite us is on, NHL highlights playing, but neither of us are paying attention.
Neve has her phone in hand; she hasn’t set the damn thing down since we left the kitchen after we both helped wash and drydishes, despite the fact I have a functioning—and much used—dishwasher.
I wonder if she’s nervous, but her knee is bent on the couch, touching my hip. She’s so close I can smell the incense of her, and the fresh scent around her from using my skincare products. She liked my cleansing balm, the serum, and the moisturizer. She complained I didn’t have a facial oil, and maybe I mentally made a note to buy one after I talk to my mom about it, but I sure as fuck did not tell her that.
“My roommate,” she confirms. “We were drunk. Will was there. Someone had invited Cyn and me. The house was incredible?—”
“Nicer than mine?” I arch a brow.
She ducks her smile, and it feels holy, seeing her unguarded. “Shut up,” she murmurs. “I mean, there was a pool there too.”
“But it’s cold outside. How long ago was this?”
“Okay, Mr. Officer. Let me finish.” She gently pushes at my arm, then her fingers close around my biceps—as much as she can anyway—and her lips part, brows going up.
I start to feel really good about myself and maybe I flex, but she drops her hand like I’ve burned her, clears her throat, squeezes her phone, and keeps talking.
She’s continually telling me she’s a whore and no good, but her actions, her expressions, the way she is with me, I don’t believe any of that. Or maybe I like to arrogantly think it’smewho is making her different.
“It was a few weeks ago. Pool was heated. Jackson said it was his house. Turns out it was his mother’s.”
I don’t say a word, but I hope she can see how revolting I think that is by the look on my face.
“I know.” She wrinkles her nose, her cheeks flushing pink. “Anyway. We…”
“You don’t need to say it.” She really doesn’t.
She nods once, darting her eyes away, and I wonder if I’ve upset her, but I just can’t stand to hear about her fucking another guy, even if I know it happenedandI know I’m not supposed to have a claim on her.
“I spent the night. We… a few more times over the next few days. His mother was, as you might have guessed, still away. Then we all hung out—me, Will, him—at Will’s place. One thing led to another, and Jackson had to leave early for whatever. Will and I?—”
“Jackson wasfinewith leaving you alone with his best friend? At his place?”
