But all I say is, “I didn’t want you worrying.”
He lifts his head then, eyes shining with tears. His lips part, and he leans in. I gently stop him with a soft kiss to his forehead. It’s not a rejection. I’ve never been able to reject him outright. But it’s not an invitation either. Back then, it was because he was too young and innocent.
Now I’ve got a tall, grouchy, uptight mess of a man who I’m pretty sure has it bad for me. Maybe almost as bad as I have it for him.
“I miss you,” he whispers.
“I miss you too.”
I’m about to tell him he should get back before the dual starts when something catches my eye at the end of the hall.
Pierce Jamison leans against the far side of the wall, casually scrolling or reading something on his phone. He’s not doing anything. He hasn’t even acknowledged that he noticed us here, but I have a feeling he was listening, and I find myself backtracking over our conversation, making sure I didn’t say anything too obvious or inflammatory.
“Come on,” I say quickly, guiding Eric back. “We should go.”
The meet is brutal, in all the best ways.
Both teams fight hard. Nebraska puts on a show for the visiting opponents. And Huntston pushes right back.
Beck is a fucking animal out there. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but he’s had his fierce game face on all day, and he isn’t pulling any punches. He steamrolls Leo, my old roommate, so efficiently that Leo gives me a helpless, breathless laugh afterward. I can’t wait to introduce them later after the competition is over. Coach McCoy already gave me permission to take a few hours to myself after the meet is over, and I’m going to try to convince Beck to come with me to hang out with my old friends.
I’m concerned that Beck doesn’t look proud of his victory, nor does he cheer much for the rest of our teammates as we make it through the weight classes.
He looks tense. More high-strung than usual, and considering just how good he was feeling when we left the hotel this morning, his frustration feels out of character.
Later, just after the meet is over, I think I’ve figured him out. I’m standing at the edge of the gym, laughing and chatting with Leo. Eric says something funny about Leo’s epic loss, and I wrap my arms around Eric’s shoulders like I’m going to take him down to the mats.
I catch Beck’s scowl across the mats. The lasers he’s shooting across the gym could set fires if it was dry in here. I feelthe friction of it against my skin, and actually squeeze Eric’s shoulders protectively.
He’s my college best friend’s little brother. He’s so tiny and innocent, don’t hurt him!
I can’t help but chuckle. His jealousy should annoy me or piss me off. But rather than be irritated by it, I feel oddly warm and fuzzy inside.
Relax, baby girl. He’s just a friend.
Whatever message I’m trying to send with my eyes must not be transmitted or received as intended, because when I press a chaste kiss to the top of Eric’s head—an affectionate, but innocent gesture to tease Beck—he looks like an angry cat with his back up.
It’s kind of cute. And I kind of love it, even if it makes me a bad person to be teasing him when he’s not getting the joke. I’ll make it up to him, and rile him up all over again, when I point out what his jealousy really means.
You like me, Lincoln Beckett.
Most of our team is already in the locker room by the time I get there. I head straight to the temporary lockers, grabbing my things quickly and looking around for Beck so I can clear the air with him before I head off with my friends, but something feels wrong.
It occurs to me that it’s too quiet in here. The locker room is never this quiet after a meet. There’s nothing more than a lowmurmur coming from the far side of the room. When I turn around to see what’s happening, I notice too many eyes on me.
Teammates and friends I’ve made in the last few months cut their eyes at me and dart their gazes away quickly. People look at me with pity, and what looks like morbid curiosity.
Then I notice where the only chatter in the room is coming from. Pierce, holding court in the far corner of the room like the cowardly piece of shit he is. I didn’t miss the disgusted and judgmental looks I saw him throwing my friends during and after the dual.
Then I hear fragments of what he’s saying. Words that burn me to my core. Slurs, either directed to me or my friend Eric, or both of us since I’m clearly close to him. Something about my father being lucky he doesn’t have to witness his sons’ downward spiral.
I hear my brother’s name. And my vision narrows until he’s the only thing in the room.
“What did you just say?” I ask, my voice gravelly with warning.
“What? I wasn’t talking to you. Mind your business.”
“You’ve got my name in your mouth, Jamison. Spit it out.”
