I was protecting myself.
From facing the fallout and the whispers of judgment. From the damn spiral that followed me after I lost everything the last time.
And maybe that makes me a coward.
I shove my gear bag over my shoulder and head for Tessa’s dorm. It doesn’t take me long to get there, which is good because I don’t need another reason to second-guess this decision.
An RA sits behind the front desk, his feet propped on the counter, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. He looks like he should be in high school.
“Hey,” I start, my voice dropping low. “I’m looking for someone named Tessa St. James.”
He squints at me, like he’s trying to place me. “Aren’t you that hockey player?”
I press my lips into a firm line. “Uh… yeah. Well, I’m the hockey coach now. I just need to talk to Ms. St. James about some tutoring sessions she’s doing with one of my players.”
It’s a stretch because why the hell would I be showing up at her dorm like this on New Year’s Eve? He seems to debate it too before he nods toward the doorway leading upstairs.
“You know which room is hers, I take it?” he questions, and I nod.
I thank him and start up the stairs before anything else can get in my way.
The stairwell smells like stale beer and a cheap air freshener, the kind we used back when I was living in the dorms, hoping it would cover up the evidence.
By the time I reach her floor, I’m barely able to make out the music playing behind the sound of the bass thumping. Laughter spills out of the rooms into the hallways.
Students are already trickling back on campus for New Year's, and it would appear the parties are already getting started. Great.
My dress shoes echo against the tile, drawing attention I don’t want. A few people glance my way as I pass. A group of girls leans against a doorframe, chatting, and another group of guys clutch red cups and look like they’re already a few beers deep. Their looks shift from curiosity to recognition, and before I can even pass by them, I can hear their whispers starting.
“Is that him?”
“The new hockey coach?”
“Barlowe, right? The one who…”
I don’t even bother to pay attention. I’ve heard it all before.
Her door is easy to spot with the pink garland draped around the trim. It’s the same one that was there when I picked her up before the storm. Damn, a lot has changed since that night.
I raise my hand to knock—
The door swings open first.
Standing in the doorway is a brunette I don’t recognize, but something tells me she knows me. She’s wearing a sparkly silver dress and heels that bring her to eye level with me. Her hair has those rollers my mom used when I lived at home, so it’s clear I’ve interrupted her getting ready.
She grins, slow and assessing. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. GQ himself.”
I blink. “What?”
She waves her hand at my face. “You know, the jawline and the broody scowl. You’ve got that whole tortured player vibe about you. It’s fitting for the guy I’ve heard entirely too much about.”
My stomach drops. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, please.” She waves a hand, smirking. “You think I’d spend more than five minutes alone with Tessa and not get herto spill the beans on what she was up to over winter break. She’s my roommate and best friend. So, yes, I’ve heard all about you and the festive fucking you two were up to lately.”
Her eyes flick over me, amused. “Guess I can see the appeal. My name’s Summer, by the way.” She smirks.
I exhale through my nose, dragging a hand over the back of my neck. “That’s not—” I stop myself, jaw flexing. “Look, I’m not here for whatever story you think you’ve heard. I just need to talk to her.”
