“We’re all stressed about work, but you seem extra…agitated,” Aarthi says gently. “I’m sensing a vibe.”
I laugh despite myself. "I just … need space from my brother. Living with Jason is a lot. He's loud, and he's everywhere, and I can't …" I trail off. Regroup. "I need my own life. I need to pass this test so I can get a real paycheck, find my own place, and just be Ella. Not Baby Rookie. Not someone's sister."
They nod. McKenzie squeezes my arm. Aarthi bumps her shoulder against mine.
"You're already Ella to us," McKenzie says. "Have been since day one."
I smile, and it's real, but it's not the whole truth. The whole truth is that it's not Jason I've gotten too close to in that apartment. It's not my brother's shadow I'm struggling to escape anymore.
It's Bernard's gravity. The pull of him.
I need to pass this test. I need my own apartment. I need to figure out what this thing with Bernard is before it figures itself out in the worst possible way.
I roll off the mat, lace up my shoes, and follow my friends into the cold Pittsburgh morning.
Chapter 18
Howie
Mayhem corners me in the training room.
I'm on the bike, rehabbing my knee, headphones in, trying not to think about the fact that Ella left for work this morning without touching me, for the sixth day in a row.
He sits on the bench across from me and waits. Just sits there with his hands on his knees, filling the room with his six-foot-five silence until I pull out an earbud.
"What?"
"Get off the bike."
"I have twelve more minutes."
“Come on, Howie."
I obey, and he hands me a towel while I swig from my water bottle. We sit in the training room while the rest of the guys run drills above us, the thud of pucks and the scrape of blades filtering through the ceiling.
Mayhem takes his time, as per usual. He’s fast as fuck on skates, but very much the silent observer on our shenanigans. “I’m going to say something," he says, finally. "And you're going to listen."
"Okay."
"You're in love with Rookie's sister."
My brows shoot up, and I open my mouth to deny it, to deflect, make a joke about how Mayhem's been reading too much, but nothing comes out. Because he's right.
"I'm not going to lecture you," he says. "You're a grown man. She's a grown woman. I don't care who you sleep with."
"But."
"But Rookie doesn't know. And the longer he doesn't know, the worse it gets." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "You think you're protecting him. Or protecting her. Or protecting yourself. But what you're actually doing is building a bomb. Need I remind you what happened with Grentley and T Stag?”
I stare at the floor. The tile is scuffed and stained with years of athletic tape residue and spilled Gatorade.
"Tell Rook,” Mayhem says. "Before he finds out. Because if he finds out on his own, it won't matter that you love her. All he'll hear is that you lied."
"I know."
"Do you? Because I watched you kiss her in front of the whole team and then let her pretend it was nothing. That's careless."
The word lands. The thing everyone already thinks I am. The party boy. The yes man. The guy who can't say no to temptation.
