Page 97 of Callous Shot

“I hope it was worth it,” she said with a grin.

“Totally worth it.” His attention returned to me. “Speaking of, where were you last night? I didn’t see you at the party. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you at any of the parties lately.”

The brunette’s gaze slid to mine. “Yeah, Kimberly said she hasn’t seen you around, either.”

“I’ve been busy. Got to get ahead, prepare for the future. You know how it is.”

I let him think that the dark circles beneath my eyes were due to working too much, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. I’d tried to channel my mother, the queen of compartmentalising with her rigid boxes of ruthless businesswoman, grieving mother, and social butterfly, but I honestly wasn’t sure how she did it. I just wanted…

I just wanted Daniel, and I’d lost him.

Fuck. Gritting my teeth, I shoved my hands into the pocket of my Whelford Uni hoodie, clenching them into fists. How had everything gone so wrong, so badly?

“Bells? You listening?”

“Huh? Sorry.” Scrubbing my hand over my jaw, I made a concerted effort to pay attention to Jasper. “I zoned out for a second. What did you say?”

“I said, don’t work too hard. We’re at uni. We’re meant to be having fun, you know? We have the rest of our lives for the nine-’til-five grind. Or eight-’til-eight, in your case. Fuck going into law.”

“Yeah. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up going pro.”

“Pro hockey? The pay’s shit, at least here. And no offence, bro, but I don’t think you’ve got a chance at the NHL.”

“Aren’t you guys playing Cranham Uni soon?” the brunette piped up.

My heart skipped a beat at the reminder. Despite knowing that Daniel might never want to speak to me again, I wouldn’t stop trying, and he wouldn’t be able to ignore me at the game. It was my best chance of getting through to him.

“This time, they’re going down,” Jasper vowed. “Fucking scumbags. I’m gonna make sure I wear my lucky socks this time. They’re guaranteed to get us a win.”

The brunette stared at him. “Lucky socks?”

“Yeah, you know. A lot of hockey players have specific rituals. Superstitions. I heard about this NHL player who eats a whole tuna-and-onion sandwich before every game. Who does that? I wouldn’t want him breathing anywhere near me.”

“Dan eats red Haribo bears the day of every game,” I said unthinkingly.

“Dan? Who the fuck is Dan?”

“Oh, uh, a player in the Storm youth team. You probably don’t know him.” My heart pounded, but Jasper didn’t make the connection. With a shrug, he moved on, the automatic doors of the dining hall opening with a swoosh as we reached them.

Nausea churned in my stomach, and I suddenly couldn’t do this.

“I’ve just remembered I need to get a book for my next seminar. See you later, okay?” Not waiting for a response from anyone, I jogged away.

The front door of the cottage opened before I even reached it, Mike placing a warning finger to his lips. I nodded, silently toeing off my shoes and following him into the kitchen, careful to avoid making any noise that might wake Tilly.

When we were inside the kitchen and he’d shut the door that led into the hallway, he turned to face me, pinching his brow. “I think I know why you’re here.”

“You do?”

“Mmhmm. I had an unexpected visit from Neil Hoyton last night.”

“Shit.”

“Indeed. Do you know how much trouble I’d be in if anyone knew he was here? If Tilly had been here, rather than at her mum’s…” He shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I— Shit. I fucked everything up, and I’m not sure how I’m going to un-fuck it.”

Mike sighed. “Okay. Look, I can sense there’s more to this story than the bits I’ve heard from Neil. There are things you don’t know, either…things I’m unable to tell you at the moment.”