Cade
The restof the day passed just as slowly as it did when Journey was gone. Eight months had felt like ten years, and today felt like an entire lifetime. Every time I passed by the boiler room, I stared at the closed door, knowing I’d had her in my hands earlier in the day, kissing her, sucking on her skin, feeling her pulse beat around me like my own pounding heart.
Snow had begun falling from the darkened sky, and I gripped my crosse harder through the numbness in my hands as I craned my neck to the top bleacher where she sat with Sloane, Mercedes, and Gemma.
“It wasn’t him.” I tore my gaze away as the smallest seed of guilt planted itself inside my burning chest, knowing that I shouldn’t have been listening to Journey’s conversation with Tobias last night. I came in on the tail end of it. It wasn’t fully intentional. I wasn’t spying. Alright, fine. I knew where she was, but I didn’t know that Tobias was sitting with her. I was looking for a new book to read, and I always went to the library right before curfew so no one could get in my business and wonder why I was reading particular books. Particular books meaning Journey’s favorites. It was just a fraction of something that held me close to her when I no longer could spend my nights listening to her voice read me rich lines from classic novels. My finger was resting on the spine of a worn paperback when I heard her slight whisper. “It wasn’t him. He thought I did it to myself.”
A knife was lodged into my back, and my guilty conscience dug it in even farther, until the handle was the only thing sticking out.
Journey thought I had attacked her that night.
Journey didn’t try to kill herself.
Someone did it to her.
I’d always had an inkling in the back of my head. There was a suspicion that I played off as denial. I wasn’t totally ignorant, but Isaiah and I searched the school that night. Nothingstood out. There wasn’t even a speck of dirt out of line that told us she wasn’t alone.
Self-inflicted wounds. That was what the paramedics said they were. But they weren’t. Either someone was lying that night, or someone wasn’t as medically savvy as they fucking thought.
A slap to my head had me dropping my crosse. “I will beat the living shit out of you.”
Isaiah stood beside Brantley and Shiner, and I watched as the rest of the team walked off the field and toward the locker room. Is practice over?
“Yep,” Brantley snarled. “You were too busy fucking Journey in your head to even realize practice had ended. Coach blew the whistle and all.”
Shiner snickered. “He was replaying what they did earlier.”
My eyes narrowed as I latched onto him, and he threw his hands up in mock surrender. “What? It was obvious. I could smell her arousal down the hall, bro.”
My vision turned red, and Isaiah stepped between us. Shiner slammed his lips together and shot me an amused look. “Relax. No one else has a sense of smell like me. I’m like half Edward Cullen and half Jacob Black.”
Brantley snapped his head over to him, a cloud of warm breath floating from his mouth. “How do you ever get laid?”
Shiner was completely taken aback. “What? I’ve fucked more girls than you all put together. It’s not hard for me to snag someone.”
“That’s unlikely,” Brantley answered calmly, taking the gloves off his hands.
Shiner began walking off with him, explaining his behavior. “Girls love chatting about romancey movies and shit. It makes for easy access.” He nudged him. “Like the other night, I talked Kaya into reenacting the scene between Bella and Edward as they had sex as vampires. It was hot. It got rough—just what I wanted. Plus, she came, like, four times.”
“Something is fucking wrong with you.”
Isaiah stepped forward as their conversation faded. His jaw was its usual tightness as he bent down and grabbed my lacrosse stick. “Tate wants a word with you. I said I would bring you to his office after practice.”
My eye twitched. “What does he want?” The options were honestly endless. Did it have something to do with our fathers? Was dear ol’ Daddy calling from prison? Did he know I destroyed his office and that Journey stole something from the top shelf?
“I’m sure it has something to do with her.” Isaiah nudged his head to the bleachers, and I followed his gaze, landing on a set of fuzzy boots walking down the icy steps. Sloane had her arm wrapped around Journey’s shoulders, whispering something into her ear, followed by a laugh coming from both of them, and Gemma and Mercedes were following closely behind.
“Did you fuck her earlier?”
I didn’t look back at my best friend as I answered, “No.”
“I know how you work when trying to bring someone out of a panic.” He just can’t let it go. I touched Gemma one fucking time. “I give it a week.”
“Shut up,” I barked. “She’d only regret it afterward, anyway.” She hadn’t looked at me once today. Not that there were many chances, but when there were, she made sure to protect herself from me.
“Come on. Tate’s waiting, and I know you want to hurry so you can be a fucking creep and sit in the hallway near Journey’s door, as if she’s going to magically disappear into thin air.”
I chuckled dryly, not surprised that he knew where I was. “Why are you complaining? You and Gem can fuck all you want now.” I paused, shifting my attention from Journey to someone else who had their eyes on her. “Not that you care if I’m in the room.”