Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
EVERETT
“ S o, who’s the girl?” Griffin asks. He’s my roommate, teammate, and best friend. Hell, we might not be blood, but we’re practically brothers, along with our other friends, Maverick and Archer—before he passed away.
Our moms were all roommates in college and raised all of us like siblings until my family moved away when I was in high school. Even then, we’d come to visit. And when it was time to apply to colleges, LAU was the first on all of our lists despite each of us being drafted during our senior years of high school. Now, here we are, playing in our last season at LAU until graduation in the spring. Well, all of us but Mav and Arch. Fuck, I still can’t believe he’s gone. Archer was our rock both on and off the ice, and Mav was always the wild card who knew how to carry his weight and bring results. Regardless, the team has worked hard to find our footing since Archer’s passing and Maverick’s early retirement from the game, thanks to his recent heart transplant. With any luck, my plans with Griffin will work out, and we’ll play for the NHL like we’ve been dreaming about since we were kids. Fuck, it’s crazy how time flies.
“Not gonna tell me who the girl is?” Griffin prods, bringing me back to the present.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter as I glance around the open bar. People shuffle around us, ordering drinks, dancing to the live band on stage, flirting and talking and taking turns stopping by our booth to congratulate us on the win. I should bask in it, but I’m too exhausted to care. Too distracted to pay attention to it all.
“Ah, come on,” Griffin pushes. “She was looking for Reeves, right?”
My head falls, and I stare at the amber liquid in my glass, running my fingers along the outside of it as the same image of forest green surrounded by bruising assaults me. What kind of asshole hits a girl? And not only hits a girl but hits a girl hard enough to leave a mark, let alone burst a blood vessel in her eye? Fucking prick.
“Ev?” Griffin prods.
“She needed help with her boyfriend.”
“And since Reeves is dating my baby sister, you got stuck with her,” he assumes.
“Doesn’t look like it.” I shove aside the image of her black eye and look at my best friend again. “She turned me down when I offered to help.”
With a low laugh, Griffin brings the beer bottle to his lips. “Man, that’s gotta sting. Being rejected for a job you don’t even want.”
“You know the asshole from the game?” I ask. “Forty-six?”
Griff nods. “Haitt, right?”
The name alone makes me want to throttle my drink. “He’s her boyfriend.”
His brows hitch. “The asshole who kept taking cheap shots? ”
“Yeah.”
Settling into SeaBird’s booth, Griff frowns. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” I repeat.
“No wonder she was looking for Reeves. You couldn’t pry a stick from the asshole’s cold, dead fingers. You really think he’d ever want to let go of a girl who looks like she does?”
I scowl at my best friend, and he quirks his brow.
“What? You don’t think she’s pretty?”
“She’s a job.”
“Nah. She’s not even that.” He points the neck of his beer bottle toward me. “She refused to hire you, remember?”
He’s right, but I don’t back down. “She needs my help.”
“Yeah, well. What are you gonna do about it?” He leans closer, resting his elbows on the table separating us. “Do you even know her last name? How to get ahold of her? Anything?”
I’ve thought about it since she walked away at the rink, but I don’t have anything to go on. Only a pair of forest-green eyes, long brown hair, and a name. Raine. It’s unique, but I doubt it’s enough information to get me anywhere.
“Ev?” Griffin prods.
With a slow shake of my head, I answer, “Nah. I don’t know how to reach her.” I take a sip of my beer, sitting it back on the table when the solution hits me. “But I do know how to get ahold of Haitt.”
My best friend’s eyes widen. “You sure it’s a good idea?”
No.
But not doing anything feels even more wrong.
Jaw clenched, I tell him, “She needs help. I know she does.”
With a sigh, he scratches along his jaw and shifts in his seat. “I’m sure she does, but…”
“What is it?” I demand.
He stays quiet and stares at his half-empty drink, probably debating on whether or not he wants to answer me when we both know I’m already amped up from the arena. When his gaze flicks to mine, I realize he has more balls than I give him credit for because he isn’t backing down.
“Listen,” he starts, “I know you’ve always had a God complex, but maybe it’s best for you to sit this one out.”
Sit this one out? He didn’t see the bruises. Didn’t see the fire in her eyes or how she flinched when I reached for her. And he expects me to do nothing? To let her fend for herself? To leave her alone with an asshole like Drake?
“I’m not going to?—”
“If she refused to hire you, what makes you think she’s okay with you using her abusive boyfriend to track her down?” he argues. “It might make things worse for her.”
Fuck. He’s right. If Drake finds out I’m using him to track down his girlfriend before I have a chance to protect her, he might take it out on Raine. It’s the last thing either of us wants. But not doing anything feels about as pleasant as having my balls dipped in a vat of acid. So where the hell does it leave me?
Without a word, I down the rest of my drink and set the empty bottle on the table in front of us. It doesn’t drown out the voice inside my head or the image of what was beneath Raine’s sunglasses.
I’ve gotta do something.
I have to.