Chapter 25
Hadley
I knew I was avoiding Dustin. What I hadn’t appreciated was that Dustin Slater was avoiding me.
He hadn’t even attempted to fake it. He turned on his heel and walked the other way. He wasn’t even subtle. It was humiliating. It was worse because Noah looked like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh or cry. He simply waved and followed his bro into the athletic building.
Why was Dustin avoiding me? He’d played me like a flute and then walked away. Was I pissed? Yes. Pissed he hadn’t finished the job. Pissed he hadn’t let me suck his dick and then bend me over and just get the need for him out of my body.
I was avoiding him because the man had me on my knees with one command, and I didn’t know how to respond. He had a dangerous power over me, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t know how to come back from that, and I was damn sure I was never going to be played like that again, especially by him.
But then . . . he walked away from me. Again. And yes, I noticed. And yes, I was counting how many times that had happened.
But if he wanted to pretend it never happened and was just waiting for me to get over it — as if I would let him know I couldn’t stop thinking about it — then fine.
I had more important things to do, like unravel a cover-up big enough to take down the entire Wrighton athletic department.
Savannah sprawled on her bed while I paced, my laptop open and notes scattered everywhere in her dorm room. It was the safer space since she was allergic to Milly. She watched me like someone observing a high-speed car chase — horrified, fascinated, and completely unwilling to intervene.
“So,” she said, chewing on a Twizzler she definitely stole from my bag, “are we ignoring the part where he’s ghosting you because you and he almost had sex in the street?”
I stopped pacing. “I cannot believe he told Dante,” I grumbled.
“I think he told Noah.” She tried to hide her grin. “Who told Dante.”
“Who then told you.”
That’s why we started talking again. Well, not exactly again. We hadn’t officially fallen out, but after our ‘exchange,’ as I called it, Dante then told her about Dustin and me hooking up. Savannah called me the next day to ask if I wanted to meet for coffee.
I really needed to meet for coffee.
She’d let me rant, in explicit detail, and when it was over, she’d bought me a donut, and we went to the sports bar and played darts, and every arrow I threw, I imagined it was Dustin Slater’s stupid, smug face.
“I’m not talking about Dustin anymore.”
“You just reorganized all my pens because you’re angry.”
I stared at her. She stared back, completely unbothered.
“Anyway,” she continued, “where are we on the Mystery of Mason Sterling and the Athletic Department of Doom?”
“We’re not calling it that.”
“It’s a working title.” Her hand sneaked into my purse and snagged another Twizzler.
“It really isn’t. Just take the bag out. I can see you, you’re not even subtle.” I gripped my ponytail, pulling the tail tight, feeling the burn in every nerve ending on my scalp. “Mary said the girl filed three drafts of the complaint. All different. All inconsistent. All deleted.”
Savannah nodded slowly. “Which screams trauma.”
“Exactly.” I resumed pacing. “And the admin deleted Mary’s draft. Twice. That’s not incompetence. That’s intentional.”
“Which means . . . someone higher up wanted it erased.”
“Exactly. And whoever that was, they sent Mason home before anyone could talk to him.” I thought about why they sent him away. “Do you think he knew something? Like . . . he wasn’t guilty but saw something else?”
Savannah sat up. “Maybe? Or,” she said, voice dropping, “someone needed a fall guy fast, and he was an easy pick.”
I paused midstep. That was the part I couldn’t shake. Something felt weird. “We know they stopped the story,” I said. “We know that might not have been the real version. So that means it’s worse? Or . . . they were sloppy and overreacted, and now it just looks worse, but it isn’t.”
Savannah looked at me carefully. “Hadley . . . I’ve been thinking. Do you . . . do you actually think he’s innocent? She never named him.”
“I don’t know.” I rubbed my temple. “There’s so much I don’t know. That’s what annoys me.”
“And Tiffany Preacher?” she asked. “Do we reach out?”
I hesitated. Mary’s warning echoed through my head. Let it go.
But I couldn’t. If anything, the avoidance — Dustin’s silence, the department’s complete shadiness — only made everything louder in my brain.
“I’m not stopping,” I said, sharper than I meant to. “I’m not.”
She watched me for a moment, her expression softening. “This isn’t about Dustin, right?” she said gently.
“No,” I said too quickly. Savannah’s eyebrows lifted. “It’s not,” I insisted.
“Hadley.”
I exhaled hard, looking away. “Okay,” I muttered. “It’s . . . maybe a tiny bit about Dustin.”
Savannah let out a long breath. Not a groan of satisfaction, just the tell of someone who had been patiently waiting. “There it is.”
“But it’s mostly about the story,” I said, grabbing my laptop. “And Tiffany. And Mason. And whoever buried this and why.”
Savannah stood, crossed the room, and squeezed my shoulder. “Then let’s burn the whole thing down,” she said. “Who’s first on our hit list?”
I stared at the name on my screen. The girl who dropped out after her report vanished.
Tiffany Preacher.
My pulse kicked. “She is,” I said quietly.
Savannah nodded. “I thought you’d say that.” She crossed to her bed and came back with her laptop. “I found her.”
I gaped at her. “What?” I couldn’t process what she was saying. “Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”
Savannah rolled her eyes. “I told you why. They’re my friends.
If it’s something horrid that the whole department goes down for, their lives are .
. .” She looked at me, sincerity shining in her eyes.
“They work so hard, Hadley. They aren’t part of this, the majority of the students probably aren’t. They don’t deserve to suffer for it.”
“But you just said—”
She nodded. “And Tiffany didn’t deserve for this to happen to her.
She didn’t deserve to be made to disappear.
And whether Mason Sterling did it or not, we need to know.
” She licked her lips. “They’re my friends,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to the laptop.
“He might just be the guy I’m destined to spend my entire life with, and this might make that all blow up in my face. ”
“But . . .” I stopped myself and looked at her. Really looked at her. She was risking more than I was with this, and I hadn’t stopped to think about that. “Hey, Savannah, if this is too much, I get it.”
Savannah looked up at me, determination in her gaze. “But an abuse of power is an abuse of power, and we need to speak to Tiffany to know exactly what happened.”
“And if it’s a complete cover-up, total corruption, and overall rotten to the very foundations?”
“Then we tell my dad, and he tells the NCAA, and if for some reason he doesn’t, then we do, and we watch them clear it out, and rebuild it.
” She sighed. “But we need evidence — hard, irrefutable evidence.” She shook her head.
“It’s nothing but hearsay if we don’t have proof that they’re doing very bad things and getting away with it. ”
I watched her, excitement thrumming in my chest. “You’re all in.”
Savannah made a face. “Have you met me? I’m Savannah Cole. Of course I’m all in.”
I lunged forward and hugged her. “Yes, you are. God, I think I love you.”
Savannah hugged me back. “More than you love Dust?”
I pushed her away from me. “Now I just mildly tolerate you again.” I swatted her shoulder, stole one of my own Twizzlers, and grinned at her. “This is going to be good,” I said with conviction. “We’re going to shine a spotlight on them so bright, the bastards won’t be able to blink.”
Savannah went to say something, but her phone buzzed. She read the message, a frown forming. “Huh.”
She typed back a reply furiously.
“What’s happening?” I asked her, not sure I should disturb her.
“The three musketeers have a source,” she muttered. I watched her slide her feet into her sneakers.
“The three musketeers?” I asked her. “What source?”
“Some girl Dante and Dust know. They’re heading to Cardinal.”
I edged toward my shoes. “They have a source?” I slipped my boots on. “And they’re chasing it down?” I repacked my Twizzlers. “And we’re—”
“Following them, obviously.” Savannah looked around the room. “Come on. They’re already on the road.”
“Sneaky bastards.” I followed her out to the back and saw with some consternation that she had free parking. Her car was a newish model, pristine inside, and had a full tank of gas. Everything about it screamed Savannah.
“Did you tell him we’re coming too?”
Savannah snorted. “Nope.” She put the car in drive, and we drove away from her building.
“And how do we know where they’re going to be?” I asked her, wondering if she’d thought this through.
“Because my boyfriend is a little bit—” she pinched her thumb and pointer finger together — “of a control freak. He put the FindMe app on my phone. He has it on his.”
I swear, this girl just kept surprising me. “We’re stalking them?”
Savannah half shrugged. “I prefer ‘following at a distance.’”
“You’re crazy,” I told her. “I like it.”
She reached for the dial and then pulled back. “I forgot.”
“Oh no, put the radio on. I was just being a bitch.” I grinned when I saw her face. “It was two hours, Savannah, you had nowhere to go. Of course I was going to find a way to interview you.”
She punched me so hard she gave me a dead leg, then she turned the radio up so she couldn’t hear me. She wasn’t mad, though. I saw her smirk, so I leaned back in my seat and enjoyed the ride.
It felt good to be finally doing something.
The guys stopped at the same roadside diner we’d visited. The look on Dante’s face when we walked in was one I genuinely wish I could have captured on film. I avoided looking at his companions. It didn’t matter; I was aware of exactly where he was sitting anyway. That was the problem.
Savannah sat down beside Dante in the booth. “Really? You don’t think this is a little petty?”
He looked genuinely confused. “I—”
“Hadley and I went on a road trip without telling you, so it’s tit for tat, and you and your friends go on a road trip?”
I hadn’t put that together. I frowned. Was this why we were here?
“It’s not like that,” Dustin said around a mouthful of fries. “Ava is really cool. She knows so much about football. She’s the perfect person to ask.” He pointed his drink at Dante. “And she had a huge crush on Dante, so she was always paying attention.”
Dante glared at him. “You’re not helping.”
“She has what now?” Savannah demanded.
“She’s Jett’s girlfriend,” Dante explained. “Jett Santo. QB for the Cardinal Saints. Nothing?” he asked with a little bit of despair.
“Why does his girlfriend have a crush on you?”
“No. She doesn’t. It was before she was with him. She might have, but I don’t think so. I . . .” He stopped, shooting another glare at Dustin. “Dust used to hook up with her best friend, and Ava and I talked football.”
Noah slurped his soda. “Is that a euphemism?”
“Of course Dustin hooked up with the friend,” I muttered with a sweet smile at him. “That’s your MO, isn’t it?”
“Why am I getting heat for this?” he demanded, turning to look at me. “I didn’t even know you then.”
“Slater, you don’t even know me now.”
He leaned in — just enough — like he knew exactly what his proximity did to me. “Peterson, I think I know you very well, don’t you?”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Noah stood. “Everyone outside. We’re getting attention.”
I looked around, and he was right. They paid, and then we gathered around Savannah’s car. Four people actively avoiding eye contact, and Noah towering over all of us like he was about to hand out detention.
“You guys are driving me crazy,” Noah snapped.
“Savvy, they know a girl who’s a legit football fan.
She speaks in stats. No one’s hooked up with her.
She dates his archrival, Jett Santo. Don’t ask me.
It’s a flimsy reason, and apparently, Dante ‘just doesn’t like him.
’ Dust remembered her this afternoon. Tonight is the only night we don’t have training tomorrow morning, crazy early.
That’s why we’re going now. Nothing to do with trying to get one over you.
” He turned to me. “You two, you have got to figure your shit out. You’re giving me a migraine. ”
There was silence. Then Savannah spoke up.
“I forgot the coaches had given you the morning off,” she mumbled.
Dante shot Noah a grateful look. “I should have asked if you wanted to come.”
“Whose car are you in?” Savannah asked, looking around.
“Mine,” Dustin said, pointing to a sleek red thing not far from us.
Savannah looked up at Dante. “You want to come in the car with me?”
He grinned and kissed her. “I would love to.”
“Cool. Noah, let’s go.” Dustin started walking.
“Well, you know, Savvy’s car . . . it doesn’t look as cramped.”
Dustin turned, his eyes wide as he looked at his friend. “Noah—”
“There’s plenty of room in the back,” Savannah piped up. “But it would only fit you . . .”
They all looked at me. “No. Nuh-uh. No way.”
Somehow Dante was already in the car, putting the seat back an obnoxious amount. Noah was climbing in the back behind the driver’s seat.
“Savannah! What are you—”
“Oh, Dust,” she said, smiling like butter wouldn’t melt. “Hadley doesn’t like music on in the car, so . . .”
“That’s not true!” I yelled.
He shrugged, looking resigned. “Stereo’s busted anyway.” He gave his three friends a look of disgust. “You suck. All of you.” He walked over to his car.
“Savannah!” I hissed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m helping,” she said sweetly. “Now go be grown-ups and talk it out.”
She left me in the parking lot. She’d arranged this in under sixty seconds; if it hadn’t involved me, I’d almost be impressed.
Dustin honked his car horn. “Peterson, let’s move it. I haven’t got all night. We still have over two hours to go.”
And I was going to feel every minute of the clock ticking. I just knew it.
“Damn you, Savannah Cole. Damn you.”