I believe him. I do. Ashton's not the kind of guy who goes after his best friend's ex. He's not the kind of guy who lies to my face. But knowing that doesn't make the anger go away. It just redirects it.
"You told me to let her go," I say quietly.
"I never said that."
"You said she was building up to something. You saw it coming, and you didn't warn me."
"Because I didn't know what she was going to do. I suspected she was pulling away, but I didn't know she'd move out while we were gone." He runs a hand through his hair. "And yeah, maybe I should have said something. But would you have gone to camp if you knew she was going to move out?"
No. I wouldn't have. But that's not the point.
"She asked if you got an offer yet," Ashton says and pulls out a bag of Doritos from his bag. He takes a couple and offers me some. I shake my head.
“She asked you, but not me,” I say.
He shrugs. "She wanted to know if you enjoyed Seattle. If it was good for you."
"What did you tell her?"
"The truth—that you kicked ass. That you loved being on the ice." He pauses. "She was happy about it. Like, genuinely happy. Even though it was killing her."
I don't know what to do with that information. Part of me wants to use it as ammunition—see, she does still care. But the other part recognizes it for what it is. Confirmation. She meant what she said. She wants me to go. She's not coming back.
"I'm not mad at you," I say finally. It's true, mostly. "I'm just mad."
"I know."
"She won't talk to me. She won't let me fix this."
"Maybe there's nothing to fix." Ashton's quiet, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe she's right, and you need to let her make this call."
"So what, I just accept it? She gets to blow up my life, and I'm supposed to smile and say thanks?"
"No. You're supposed to feel like shit for a while. And then you're supposed to decide what you want." He looks at me. "Seattle's going to call, Declan. You know they are. And when they do, you need to know your answer."
I lean my head against the window. The glass is cold against my face.
“This is all about convincing me to sign a contract.”
“I didn’t collude with her, but I’m sorry, I think she’s right.”
“Fuck off.”
“Sorry, man. I’m here for you, but you need to look at the bigger picture.”
I close my eyes and let his words sink in. She’s telling me to go. My best friend is telling me.
Maybe they know something I don’t.
We get back to the house at ten. I want a shower and eight hours and silence, in that order.
"Party," Crew announces. "We won. There's a party at Twelve’s. It's already happening. We're just not there yet."
"I'm going to bed," I say.
Twelve is another senior on the team. He lives in a frat house that throws more parties than any other house on campus. It’s exactly why I don’t live in the house.
"No, you're not,” Crew says. “You’re going out.”
