I stare at him, the words not making sense at first. “What?”
“That fight you walked in on a few weeks back. Just before you started seeing Ash. It wasn’t about the money.” Pierce takes a deep breath, his exhale visible in the cold air. “We got a letter. A bunch of them, actually. Threatening to go public with some stuff from Florida. From before.”
My stomach drops. “What stuff, Pierce?”
He meets my eyes, and the raw pain there makes me take a step back. “About Reed. About what happened to him.”
I think my heart literally stops for a second.
“I killed him,” he says, his voice flat and dead.
“What the fuck are you talking about? He died in a car accident.”
“We’d been drinking. Me, Liam, Reed. I was in my black-out drunk era. Partying way too hard. We went back to his place, and his father was there.” Pierce’s words come faster now, tumbling over each other. “We got into it. It was about money, I think. He always wanted money. He said I stole something, and… “
“And what?”
“Reed lost it. Someone took a swing. I jumped in. It’s all… fuck, it’s all blurry after that. I was drunk, and everything happened so fast.” His voice cracks. “Next thing I remember clearly is Reed on the floor, his dad shouting “you killed him”, and I ran.”
“You don’t remember what happened?” I ask, trying to make sense of it.
“There was blood everywhere. I was holding the knife,” he admits, shoulders slumping. “Everywhere. All over me.” He holds out his hands like he can still see it. “He’s dead and his blood is all over me. And I just left him there on the floor, his little sister screaming over his body. I left her too.”
I try to picture it. I try to picture a reality where Pierce could ever hurt Reed.
We had a group chat where we would banter. It was mostly flirting and talking hockey. But then Pierce would text me privately. We got into this routine of texting just before I crashed out after games. He was working in bars, he’d usually be drunk.
He talked mostly about Liam and Reed, saying shit that I don’t think he could when he was sober. I thought at first he was trying to make me jealous. But that wasn’t it at all. He was trying to get me to see them like he does, so I would fall in love with them like he was.
It worked.
Which is why I also know there is no universe in which Pierce kills Reed.
None.
A very strange flavor of anger rises in my throat. I turn and skate toward the exit.
“Where are you going?” Pierce calls after me, voice tinged with panic. He tries to stand but slips again.
I skate back for him and haul him up by the arm, half-dragging him off the ice.
“I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to kill him. I swear.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Off the ice, I push him before me to the locker rooms. The rubber mats are too bouncy under my blades and it slows me up. I go right to my cubby and tear at the laces on skates and let them drop.
“Beckett,” he says, hovering in the doorway. “Did you hear what I said? I killed Reed.”
“No.” I yank off my jersey and rip off my shoulder pads. “You didn’t.”
“What?”
I meet his eyes, holding his gaze steady. “You were in a fight, you were drunk, things got messy. But you didn’t kill him, Pierce.”
“Dude, I was fucking there. I killed Reed.” His voice is small, desperate.
“You were there. And Reed died. You are not a killer.” I struggle with my base layer. The long sleeve shirt is glued to my thighs with sweat. “Fuck it.” I abandon trying to get it off and yank my jeans out instead and just pull them on over the base layer.
