“Grayson, what’s going on?” Now Trav is up and at my side.
More silence, and this time I swear I hear a crack coming from the hand holding the phone, but the screen is fine when he holds it out for me to see the picture on it.
Similar to the last time I saw Kay’s smiling face staring back at me from an Instagram feed, the sight has a red mist coating my vision.
Liam Parker. Liam motherfucking Parker is the one to post the shot, and then to add insult to injury, he has the fucking balls to call her sloppy seconds? He’s dead. D-E-A-D.
“Oh, shit,” Trav curses.
“What—ohhh,” comes from Alex as he stands up from the couch.
Kevin and Noah close ranks, having similar reactions, and the four weeks until we play Penn State feels like an eternity.
“Trav, I’m going to need you to tell Coach Knight I had a family emergency, but I’ll be at the hotel before curfew.” I jerk my chin toward the door, silently telling Grayson, Let’s roll.
“It’s cute you think you’re going without me.” Trav claps me on the back, falling into step beside me.
“Seriously, Nova, it’s like you forget we’re a team,” Kev says as the others agree.
I pause, meeting the eyes of each of those who are as much my teammates off the field as they are on it. Not even the bullshit Adam’s still spewing registers. I’ll deal with him later.
#Chapter20
“Aren’t you supposed to let me drink when I’m in crisis?” I complain, shooting a death glare at Carter when he exchanges the tequila bottle in my hand for a Smartwater. “Isn’t it in the friend handbook or something?”
This is the second time in a week King has stopped me from drinking my troubles away. I’m not a fan.
“You can angry-eye me all you want, Dennings, but when you barely meet the height requirements to ride the rides at Six Flags, it kinda takes away the intimidation factor.”
I roll my eyes and push off the counter. If he won’t let me drink, he better let me eat some Ben & Jerry’s.
“It is so refreshing to see someone not be intimidated by you.” Wes attempts to hide a smirk behind his hand, but it’s a massive failure. He’s one to talk, though. King may be—well, the king of the Royals, but Wes is just as, if not more feared as the leader.
I was touched when they showed up. Sure, they came because JT asked them to check up on me, but the sentiment remains the same.
“You’re not a very good monarch if you don’t know not to replace her liquor with H2O.” Em hip-checks Carter to the side and stretches across the counter to hand over a to-go cup with a familiar Harry Potter themed coffee logo printed on it. I must be in worse shape than I thought if they stopped at Espresso Patronum before showing up. I don’t have it in me to tell her coffee from my favorite shop only makes me think of Mason.
King folds his arms across his chest, the sleeves of his black t-shirt straining around the tops of his biceps. His chin tips down to look at Em, eyes narrowing with a glare that has had men much larger than her peeing their pants. Except—God love her—all Em does is arch one of her perfect brows in a silent challenge.
The two of them have been around each other less than a handful of times, but the tension that builds between them whenever they’re within a ten-foot radius is hot enough to get those around them pregnant.
“Hold up, Dennings,” Carter commands when I try to make my exit. I stop but don’t turn around, only angling my chin to look at him over my shoulder.
“I don’t really want to talk about it, King.” I let out a heavy sigh. I know what he wants to discuss, but I’m not in the mood. It’s not even dinnertime and this already feels like the longest day on record.
I’ve freaked out.
Cried a few more buckets’ worth of tears.
Talked Bette out of coming up again.
Had a meeting at All Things Sports with Jordan Donovan to keep E from blowing a gasket.
Then I got pissed.
Why can’t Liam mind his own goddamn business?
I thought I’d grown. I thought I’d managed to put my life back together in a way I could handle. For the last couple of months, I struggled—and mostly failed—to come to terms with the unwanted attention on social media, but now that Liam is getting involved? It feels like my life is about to crumble around me like a house of cards.
“Dennings—”
“No, King.” I whip around, slashing a hand through the air to cut him off. “I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am for everything you did for me in high school. I know you’re used to being the ruler supreme”—Oops, did that come out too sarcastic?—“and while the pull you have now extends outside of Blackwell, this”—I wave my phone in the air—“is something I have to handle on my own.”
With that said, I spin on my heel, leaving Em and Carter to bicker, and head into the living room to drink my coffee, choosing the open spot next to CK. He doesn’t ask if I’m okay or how I’m holding up; he simply drops an arm around my shoulders and lets me snuggle into his side, silently telling me he’s here and has my back.
My gaze falls to my hands, the rainbow-jeweled bands adorning five of my fingers—I really do need to find an emerald one to add CK to the fold—a physical reminder of all the different people who have my back.
They aren’t the only ones who would be there for you.
I don’t appreciate my inner cheerleader bringing up Mason at a time
