32. Madison
MADISON
A week after the wedding that technically made Hayden my stepbrother, it doesn’t feel like anything has changed. Winter sits across from me, her long fishtail braid draped over her shoulder as she picks at her eggs. It’s hard to concentrate with the dining hall’s morning energy being like this. It’s a weird vibe, because everyone is talking about Bethany. I didn’t see it for myself, but apparently some weird posts were made on her social accounts at 2 AM on the dot, and there’s speculation that it wasn’t her who made the posts. It’s kind of a weird phenomenon, if you ask me. No one seemed to pay attention to her when she was around every day, but now that no one has seen her in quite a while, suddenly everyone is so invested in where she is. Conspiracy theories are swirling all over campus. The one most people seem to be leaning toward is that she’s doing it for attention so she can make a grand reentrance on campus. There’s a pit in my stomach that tells me it’s something darker than that.
Callum slides his tray onto the table next to Winter and drops into the seat beside her with all the grace of a bulldozer.
“Don’t you have somewhere better to be?” I tease, raising an eyebrow as he unwraps his bagel. He plays the oafish older brother Winter and I need when Hayden and Tristan aren’t around.
“Nope.” He smirks, grabbing a knife and a little tub of cream cheese. “Your boyfriends are off doing hacker shit, which makes me your bodyguard for the morning.” Oh, he’s feeling sassy today, apparently.
Winter’s eyebrows shoot up, and she snickers into her orange juice. “Bodyguard? You? You’d trade us for a cookie.”
Callum ignores her for a moment, spreading cream cheese over one half of his bagel with the precision of someone who clearly takes baked goods very seriously. “Chocolate chip? Yeah, probably,” he says, slathering peanut butter on the other half of the bagel with the same knife, “but I gotta play nice since forty-two people have tried to kill you this semester,” he says, smirking at the blatant exaggeration.
Winter tilts her head, her expression thoughtful. “I just don’t understand the endgame. They’ve tried to embarrass Kirsten and me. They didn’t hurt us when they could’ve, at least that night in the woods. What’s the point?”
I shift in my chair because Tristan is about to blow a gasket. “You know about the newspapers?” I ask.
Winter nods, her face tightening with a grimace. “Tristan goes overboard trying to protect me,” she says softly, taking a small sip of her orange juice. “He feels guilty for what happened, and I don’t know if he’ll ever get over it.”
“I don’t even know what to say, but if you ever need someone to listen, I’m pretty good at that,” I offer and she turns toward me, her hair falling completely off her shoulder as she does. I decide to change the subject to something a little brighter and point to the intricate braid. “How do you even do that? It always looks so perfect.”
Winter blushes at the compliment and says, “Tristan braids it for me every day.” She looks away for a moment like she’s not sure what she wants to say. Finally, she looks me in the eye and says, “When I was hurt in the carjacking, I was in pretty bad shape. I couldn’t lift my arms over my head to braid my hair. I always kept it in a pretty simple braid for ballet practice, so Tristan learned to braid my hair.”
Callum grins, letting out an, “Aww.” I can’t discern if he’s being sarcastic or if he genuinely thinks it’s sweet.
Winter must not know either, because she tosses a balled up napkin at him before telling me, “When I healed up, he just never stopped.” She gives me a shy smile when she says, “It looks better when he does it, so I don’t have any complaints.”
We both glance over as Callum presses the two halves of the bagel together like some Frankenstein creation and I can see the cream cheese and peanut butter mixing together as it spills out the side. My nose wrinkles, and I can’t stop myself. “Are you okay? That can’t be good?”
His grin widens just before he takes an obnoxiously large bite. “So fucking good, you have no idea. You gotta try it, Madi,” he says around a mouthful of bagel.
Winter smirks, swirling the pink straw in her orange juice bottle. “I know someone else who eats cream cheese and peanut butter bagels.”
Callum’s chewing slows, his gaze narrowing. “Don’t start on that shit again. She’s my–” Callum starts, but Winter wiggles her pointer finger at him, effectively cutting him off.
She uses air quotes, taunting him like a bratty little sister when she says,“best friend’s little sister.”
Callum scowls, taking another bite before saying, “When I’m finished eating, I’m going to fling you out the window by your braid.”
I snort, trying to cover my laugh because we’re on the first floor of the building.
The lighthearted mood shatters when someone clears their throat behind Callum. I look up and say a silent prayer for our pretend bodyguard. Callum’s shoulders stiffen instantly, his almost finished bagel pausing halfway to his mouth. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”
Tristan stands behind Callum’s chair, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head and a scowl on his face that makes Hayden look… approachable. His dark green eyes are locked on the back of Callum’s head, and his jaw is so tense it looks like it could crack a rock.
Callum turns his head slightly, trying to meet Tristan’s glare with a grin that’s way too forced. “You know, Tristan,” he says, still chewing, “you should really loosen up, it would do you good.”
Tristan doesn’t even blink. His voice is calm, too calm, when he says, “I’ll loosen up when you stop threatening to throw my sister out windows.”
Winter’s face flushes, her gaze glued to her plate as if it’s suddenly the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. She breathes in deep before looking up at him and saying,“Tristan, don’t—” Winter’s chair scrapes back as she gets up, but before she can move, Hayden steps in.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Hayden says, setting a jug of chocolate milk on our table and then shoves himself between Tristan and Callum.“You know he’s a lunatic. Why the fuck would you?—”
Callum doesn’t let him finish. He stands too, his backwards hat slightly askew as he takes the knife with the peanut butter on it and licks it clean like he’s unfazed. “She was giving me shit, so I gave her shit back. It was a joke.” He shrugs, casual as ever, “Anyone else calls her your sister, and you fly to fucking outer space on a rage rocket. I threaten to dangle her out a window, and suddenly she’s family?” His tone shifts then, all humor bleeding out as his expression hardens. “You know I’d protect her with my life.”
And the thing is, I believe him. Callum may act like everything’s a joke, but there’s a seriousness to the way he says it that feels undeniably real. He’d protect Winter and me because of the bond he has with Hayden and Tristan.
Winter steps in front of Tristan, allowing Hayden to back off. Her small hand presses firmly against Tristan’s chest when she says, “It was a joke, I promise. Callum looked out for us all morning. I was teasing him about Lilac.”
Tristan frowns, his gaze softening as his hand comes up to rub the long braid that trails down her back. The bomb that is Tristan Vale seems to be diffused for now.
Callum, of course, doesn’t know when to stop.
“That’s what I fucking thought,” he says, and I swear everyone in dining hall freezes for a second as he takes off running toward the exit. Over his shoulder, he yells, “See you bitches at the game tonight. Don’t die before then!”
Tristan grumbles something, but his arm wraps protectively around Winter and I relax because I don’t think he’s going to chase after him. Hayden shakes his head before turning his attention to me. He steps around the table, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple before sliding into the seat beside me. His hand lands on my thigh like it’s a claim.
I glance up at him, leaning into him and giving him a quick kiss before nestling into his side while he opens his chocolate milk. As much as I love the intensity between Hayden and me, moments like this calm me in a way I didn’t know I needed until I met him.
Winter waves at us as Tristan guides her away from the table and toward the exit. I wave back, calling out to her, “See you at the game!” She doesn’t turn around because Tristan is handing her one of his headphones. She pops it in her ear closest to him and he mirrors her, putting the other one in his ear.
“The game is going to be interesting,” I say to Hayden with a laugh, because this was the most ridiculous breakfast I’ve ever had.
My eyes follow Hayden as he moves across the ice. He’s having a phenomenal game tonight. Tristan hasn’t killed Callum, so if it wasn’t for us all having a mystery stalker hellbent on tormenting us, all would be right in our little world.
I feel myself getting giddy as my mind drifts to this morning. I’d woken up to a bouquet of daisies, already arranged in a vase on the table next to the bed.
Our bed.
The thought slips in uninvited, and my cheeks heat. Not ours. His. But it doesn’t feel that way anymore. Not when I’ve been spending every night there, tangled in his sheets, with his arm draped over me like he owns me. A few days ago when we got back to his room, all of my things had been moved from my dorm per Hayden’s request. My pink vanity sticks out like a sore thumb in such a neutral space, and I’d told him that we could move it someplace else. He wasn’t having any of that because Hayden, apparently, likes to lounge in bed and watch me get ready in the mornings.
The thought makes my skin flush, and I glance down at my lap, twisting the edges of my pink coat between my fingers. Next to me, Winter leans forward, swiping through pictures of what looks like really old books on her phone. Since I’ve been spending more time at the guys’ house, I’ve noticed that she and Tristan read a lot together.
She looks up at me and asks, “Wanna stop by the library after the game? My order is in.” She looks so excited that I can’t help but nod enthusiastically. Hayden is going to be annoyed, but I’ll make it up to him when we get home.
It’s a shock when Kirsten appears, sliding into the seat on my other side. Her hair is a little messy, her cheeks flushed like she was in a rush to get here. I stiffen automatically, but she waves me off with a bright laugh.
“You two don’t have to look so panicked,” she says, her voice overly chipper. “I’m not going to cause a scene.”
Winter straightens slightly, her gaze flicking to Kirsten before returning to her phone.
I relax a little, though I’m still a little on edge. I don’t want any drama tonight, and where there’s Kirsten, drama is sure to follow.
Kirsten almost hesitantly places her hand over mine. “Look, I’m sorry for lashing out at the wedding,” she says quietly, her tone softer than I expect. “None of the way I’ve been feeling has anything to do with you. I’m really glad my brother has you. I’ve been awful. I don’t blame him for the things he says or how he feels about me.”
Her words seem genuine, but before I can figure out what to say, the crowd explodes into cheers, pulling my attention back to the ice.
I look up just in time to see Hayden, his stick slapping against the puck, sending it flying past the goalie and into the net.
The horn blares, the team rushes toward him, but he doesn’t celebrate with them. Not really. His helmet tilts upward, and his gaze scans the crowd until it lands on me. It’s a claim, like he wants me to know that me coming to his games means a lot to him.
I fucking love when he does that.
I blow him a kiss, and his response is instant. He lifts his gloved hand, slow and deliberate, pretending to catch it. But just as his fingers curl, Callum slides in front of him, snatching the invisible kiss like a thief.
Hayden doesn’t even hesitate. His skate hooks Callum’s, and Callum hits the ice hard, sprawling out like a cartoon character.
Hayden ignores him, his glare cutting straight to me as he waves his hand impatiently.
Do it again.
I bite my lip to stifle my grin, but I blow him another kiss, and I’m more exaggerated this time. Hayden’s gloved hand closes around it, and the moment should feel silly, lighthearted, but Scott Jacobs skates past Hayden, leaning in just close enough to say something to him. I know it’s about me because Scott’s eyes flash over to me, smirking at me like he’s done something clever. Whatever he said, makes Hayden snap.
His gloves and helmet hit the ice before I can blink. Hayden grabs his teammate by the neck, hitting him hard enough to make blood spurt onto the ice. Scott crumples, clutching his face in pain.
The referees’ whistles are loud, but not compared to the crowd cheering like this fight is the highlight of their night.
I watch as Hayden searches the crowd for me. He flashes a grin when our eyes lock, holding up his bloody knuckles. I know then, without a doubt, that he’ll always fight for me.
The whistles blare again, players shouting and pushing at each other, and Coach Jacobs looks like he’s about to walk out of the arena entirely.
Before the refs can garner control of the players, the lights flicker in a familiar fashion.
My stomach drops.
The Jumbotron glitches to life, static buzzing as the screen flashes. For a second, it’s nothing but interference. And then Bethany’s face appears. It looks like a photo taken out of a Castlebrook yearbook.
It’s only seconds before the screen cuts to static again, and then the image shifts to video.
My breath hitches as the camera pans slowly, jagged rocks framing the crashing waves below. It’s familiar, and looks to be around the same location where Hayden’s mother and my father were murdered.
A small black car comes into view, parked near the edge. I hear Kirsten’s sharp gasp beside me.
“That’s Bethany’s car,” she whispers, her voice high-pitched and trembling.
The camera moves closer, shaky, like it’s handheld, and my intuition tells me what’s coming before I see it. Nothing could prepare me for the sight of Bethany’s body slumped inside, her face pale, her eyes wide and empty, blood streaked down her neck.
My stepsister sways, her body going limp before she collapses. Winter and I grab her, barely catching her before she hits the floor.
The arena erupts into chaos. People push and shove, trying to get out of the building as if whoever hurt Bethany is going to go on a rampage tonight. I’m frozen, my arms locked around Kirsten as the video cuts to static.