Page 42 of Sticks and Stones (Shadow Valley U)
He glances at me, but I get the sense that he doesn’t want to scare me off. “Why?”
“Because she has nightmares, and I’m pretty sure it’s my fault.” No, it’s definitely my fault. “I just don’t want her to think she’s alone.”
“She is alone,” he points out. “She was in your room, but you freaked out, and now she’s sleeping in a little closet.”
I scrub my face. “Yeah.”
“And you’re sleeping on the floor outside her room because…?”
“Maybe it’s what I deserve,” I say quietly.
“Nah.”
So easy. I stare at his back and try to come up with a reply.Nah. It’s not what I deserve? According to Wren, I should be rotting in Hell. So that’s what I’m busy doing. I’m fucking punishing myself.
No one asked you to sleep outside my door. Her words haunt me. Her face haunts me. That fucking kiss haunts me.
If you asked me two weeks ago if Wren Davis moving out was a good thing, I would’ve saidhell yeah. I would’ve packed her shit into garbage bags and tossed them out on the front lawn to be picked up by whatever new arrangement she organized.
But now…
No.
I force myself into motion, unlacing my skates and changing into my street clothes. Once I’m done, I nod to Grant and follow him outside.
“Want to get a drink?” he offers.
Which is how we end up at Shadow’s.
Wren is busy with other tables, her dark hair coming loose from her braid in chunks that frame her face. She looks as tired as I suddenly feel, but she keeps moving.
Another waitress brings us beers. Grant and I sit in silence while I watch Wren. She disappears into the kitchen and comes out a few moments later with a tray of plates. Once they’re down at a table, she tucks her hair behind her ear and goes right on to the next thing.
“Dude.”
I scowl and turn back to Grant.
His expression is stoic. Not happy, not mad, just carefully blank. But the corner of his lips pulls up when he says, “You’re so screwed.”
“You’re telling me,” I mumble.
“We’ve got our first preseason game on Friday. What will it take for you to be ready?”
I sigh. “I’ll be ready.”
He scoffs.
Wren’s panicked voice draws my attention back to her. It only takes me a split second to find her in the crowded bar—it’s like I never actually stopped keeping tabs on her while talking to Grant. Some guy’s holding her wrist, even as she tugs back.
I see red.
I’m out of my chair before Grant can get a word in, striding across the room. It isn’t until I get closer that I realize it’s another group of guys from college. Football assholes, maybe. I don’t know. I don’t really give a shit about what sport they play—just that they’re touching Wren.
“You should really let go of her.” I stop beside her and glower at the guy.
“Oooh, your tough fuck buddy has come to rescue you?” The guy sneers.
His friends laugh.