“She went to his office not long ago to see him. I guess it didn’t go very well. Wren said she saw Brinley leaving in tears,” I say quietly. “When I told her I knew, I promised her I wasn’t going anywhere.”
The room feels too empty when I glance around again.
“Does she know about your conversation with Coach last night?” Atlee asks. “She doesn’t seem like the type of person to just leave without a reason. Do you think he spoke to her again?”
“I don’t know. But after he pulled me in last night… I stopped answering her messages.”
Atlee’s expression shifts. It’s not necessarily judgment, but more understanding.
And that somehow makes it worse. The guilt settles low in my gut.
If he really does have eyes on her… if he’s trying to run her out of town… then her staying above the bar isn’t safe. And the thought of her closing up alone makes my stomach turn.
“I have to go,” I mutter.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. I just—” I drag a hand through my hair. “I can’t just stand here anymore.”
***
By the time I get in my truck, the silence echoes louder than it should. The note she left is folded in my pocket.
All I can keep thinking is what if she left? What if she packed up her stuff and never looked back? And I don’t know if this means she’s leaving here or if she’s leaving Rixton entirely.
I head toward the hockey house but have no idea what my next steps are. I already feel like I’m spiraling out of control after my conversation with Coach last night.
I’m hoping that if I talk to the guys, they’ll give me advice on what to do.
After everything we’ve been through over the past year, they already don’t trust him. This will only add more fuel to the fire.
I’m halfway there when I pass a car pulled over on the shoulder with its hazards on. I barely look at first, until I’m passing by and I realize it’s a silver Toyota. It looks awfully similar to the one Brinley drives.
Something nags at me.
I check the rearview mirror and catch the duct tape hanging off the bumper. It clicks a second later.
Without thinking, I veer into an empty bank parking lot, cutting across it before turning into the alley that leads back toward her. When I pull in behind her car, my headlights sweep over the broken taillight. There’s no mistaking it now.
It’s Brinley.
I shut off the engine and walk up to find her window already down. The sharp scent of gasoline hits me before I even reach her. She’s in the driver’s seat, her head bent forward, both hands covering her face.
She reminds me of how she looked that day at the bar, when I found out she'd gone to talk to Coach Dawson and Wren had seen her leaving in tears. She has the same slumped shoulders. She’s folded in on herself, like if she makes herself small enough, it might all disappear around her.
I tap lightly on the glass.
She jumps a little, then looks up. Her eyes are red. She’s not crying anymore, but you can tell she has been. Or maybe it’s a mixture of her lack of sleep that Atlee mentioned noticing earlier.
Relief passes over her face when she realizes it’s me, which only makes me feel worse. But it disappears just as quickly.
“What happened?” I ask.
She clears her throat. “It started making this weird noise, and eventually, it just stopped. It won’t even start anymore.”
“Did you call anyone?”
She nods. “They’re on their way. I’m okay. You can go.”
