34. Hayden
HAYDEN
M y eyes are locked on Madison and the rest of the field might as well not exist. Her ponytail bounces with every movement, that sleek uniform hugging her body in all the right ways. My jaw tightens as I watch her move, flipping into a stunt before landing gracefully and spinning toward the sideline. She’s pure perfection, and I hate that anyone else gets to see her like this. I make a mental note to petition the school to change the cheer uniforms to giant sweatshirts that can be worn over a snow suit and for really nippy days they could have an ankle length parka to choose from. I roll my eyes because she would say I’m being ridiculous, but I’m being reasonable because I haven’t gouged any eyeballs out, and that’s personal growth.
I scan the field just beyond where she’s practicing just to see who might be paying too much attention to her. We still haven’t figured out who that coward was who ran away while his little buddies took the heat. I haven’t heard anyone bring up Dawson, not even a mention of his parents being concerned. Ramsey was able to spoof his and Kyle’s credit cards to make it seem like they’re making purchases, traveling around to different tourist areas.
“Jesus, man.” There’s a slap to my shoulder, and I scowl as Callum steps into my line of sight.
“What the fuck do you want?” I snap, pulling my hands from my pockets because if he says something to annoy me, we’re about to tussle.
Callum chuckles. “I know you’re busy being a creepy boyfriend, but we’ve got a problem.”
My scowl deepens. “What the fuck is it now?”
He clears his throat, glancing around like he doesn’t want to draw attention, then pulls a pocket knife from his jeans and hands it to me. The handle is a worn red, and when I open it, the blade is dull with age.
“Thanks, I’ll definitely use this if I’m ever in a knife fight with a slow-moving senior citizen,” I say. “I probably have tetanus just from touching this thing.”
Normally, he’d laugh and throw a smart-ass comment back, but this time, he just bumps my shoulder, and there’s not a hint of a smile. “That was stabbed into my tire when I went to get in my truck,” he says quietly.
My brow furrows. “I’ve seen at least a dozen puck bunnies threaten your life so?—”
“Shut up,” Callum says, glancing around again. Then he snatches the knife back from me, flicking it open fully and pointing to the broken tip. “This is the knife I killed my father with when I was a kid. I don’t think that’s a fucking coincidence. I’m definitely next. Those records are sealed. Whoever’s doing this shit has a lot of time on their hands,” Callum says quietly.
If we don’t find this fucker, I’m going to lose it. “Where was the knife the last time you saw it?”
“In a box hidden in the back of my closet,” he says, his tone clipped.
“Fuck,” I mutter. Whoever’s behind this has been in our house and had enough time to rifle through shit.
“It doesn’t mean they have access now,” Callum says, shoving the knife into his pocket. “It could’ve been taken months ago, and I wouldn’t have noticed. Could be someone we willingly brought in.”
We don’t bring anyone into the house, that’s the thing. Tristan would prefer if he never had to speak to another human besides Winter, and I sure as fuck am not bringing randos over to hour house. Callum used to have big parties when Tristan and I were out of town, but the last one was a few weeks before my mother’s murder.
“Did Dawson and Kyle ever come to those parties you used to have at the house? I don’t see another time frame where anyone could have had access. No one broke in, we’ve got that shit locked down.”
“You look like you’re about to explode,” Callum says, his tone lighter now. “Calm down. We don’t know who’s watching us.” He sighs before telling me, “Kyle, yeah. I don’t know about Dawson. Some of the football guys showed up, but I don’t know who.”
I grumble, running a hand through my hair. “I just wanted to admire my fucking girlfriend in peace.”
Callum chuckles at my annoyance. “So, it’s official?”
I roll my eyes, refusing to dignify his question with an answer. It’s been official for me since the second I laid eyes on Madison. Hell, I've had a ring for her for so long, even I know it’s psychotic. But like with everything else, now isn’t the time. We need to find the guy from the attack and put him out of his misery because I’m sick of this shit.
When I look up, Madison is jogging toward us, her smile so wide it lights up the entire field. She jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist, and my arms lock around her instinctively.
“Missed you!” she says, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before glancing at Callum. “Hi, Callum.”
He waves at her lazily and grins at me because he knows I don’t like the way his name sounds on her lips. I’m tired from the other outburst I’ve had in the last few minutes, so I let it slide because she feels fucking good in my arms. “I missed you more,” I murmur, burying my face in her neck and breathing her in. She wiggles slightly, her silent signal for me to set her down, and I do, reluctantly.
“Something’s up,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “You guys can’t fool me. What happened?”
“Callum was targeted,” I start, but Callum cuts me off.
“Is Kirsten here?” he asks, his voice sharper now. “I didn’t see her out there with you.”
Madison shakes her head. “Coach asked me to text her, but she didn’t answer or pick up when I called.”
I vaguely remember talking to her. “She said something about going home for a few days because of the Bethany stuff,” I say, shrugging because I know I’m an asshole for literally turning off my ears when my sister speaks. “She called me while I was in the gym last night. I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“Mom and your dad are on vacation, so there’s no one there with her if she went home,” Madison says, and I can hear the concern she has even though Kirsten has been a dick to her on occasion. “Do you think she’s okay?”
“No idea,” I reply, pulling her close and squeezing her against me.
“She’s probably safer there than here,” Callum says. “They already showed her video, so I doubt they’d go after her again.”
Callum’s phone buzzes, and he glances at the screen before looking back up. “Winter and Tristan are saving us seats at the dining hall for dinner.”
“Great,” I say, kissing the top of Madison’s head and threading my fingers through her hair. “Let’s grab your stuff, and we’ll head over.”
Madison is next to me at the table, her shoulder brushing my outer arm as she takes her bow out. She hands it to me without a word, because I am the keeper of such things. It’s because I’m her person, her everything, and definitely not because that little cheerleading skirt doesn’t have pockets. I watch as she lets her hair loose over her shoulders. My arm is over the back of her chair, which allows my fingers to tangle in it. It’s just not enough. I let my hand move down, fingers brushing her bare thigh under the table. Her skin is warm and soft, and the small twitch of her lips when I tighten my grip makes me happy.
She turns her head just slightly, her lips quirking into a smile. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” she murmurs teasingly.
“Do you need a reminder of what I will and won’t do in public?” I reply, squeezing her thigh.
Her cheeks flush, and that’s enough for me to scoot her chair back. I pull her on my lap and bury my face in her hair. I try to inhale as much of her sweet scent as my lungs will hold. I would burn the whole world to ashes just to do this one more time. I don’t give a fuck what’s going on or where we are. I need this right now. I need her.
When I come up for air, across the table, Callum is in the middle of one of his stories, waving a fork like it’s a weapon, his backwards hat crooked on his head.
“I’m telling you, I could’ve taken him,” he says, stabbing the air with the fork. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but with Callum it could be a bear, bigfoot, or a fucking wombat. I sigh, because I feel like I’m going to find out, and all information I’ve learned about Callum has been against my will.
“You couldn’t,” Tristan says without looking up from the book Winter is showing him, his voice as flat as ever.
Callum scowls. “You weren’t even there.”
“Don’t have to be,” Tristan replies, his tone bored enough to make Winter giggle softly beside him.
Madison laughs outright, leaning into me, and I can’t stop myself from kissing the side of her head, her hair brushing against my lips. Her hand slides over mine under the table, and I can’t help the way my chest swells at the small gesture.
My phone buzzes almost simultaneously with Callum and Tristan’s. Callum pulls his out first, his eyes narrowing as he tilts the screen toward me.
COACH
Office. Now. We need to talk about the bullshit. No distractions the rest of the season.
Callum lets out a low whistle. “He’s been pestering me to talk to him, but I’ve been avoiding him. I get that he’s tired of shit happening at games. Nobody’s doing anything to stop it, just to sweep shit under the rug because they don’t want the Castlebrook name tarnished. Why is he so insistent on getting to the bottom of it?”
“I don’t fucking know, but now I think he’s involved. He’s never once texted us personally, not even when we fucked off for two weeks and went on that snowboarding trip.” Tristan is already up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he stands. Callum takes his time, stretching like this whole thing is an inconvenience.
When we get outside it’s already dark, and I want to go home instead of going on whatever wild goose chase this is going to be. Callum strides ahead, yanking the back door of my vehicle open with a mock bow.
“Ladies first,” he says, grinning.
Madison slides into the passenger seat while Winter climbs into the back. Tristan follows Winter, reaching over her to buckle her seatbelt.
Callum says, shaking his head, “She’s not a toddler.” And I’m team Tristan on this one.
Tristan doesn’t respond, just shuts the door and climbs in beside her.
I slide into the driver’s seat, glancing at Madison as she settles in. She’s already buckled herself in, and her hand finds mine. I hold it, my thumb brushing over her knuckles as I start the engine.
The drive is quiet, but Callum is the first to break it.
“So do we have a plan or?” he asks. He’s checking over his gun, and I glare at him in the rearview because we’re on the main road that leads through campus.
“I don’t care what we do as long as we finish this shit tonight,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the road. “Which one of you fuckers is staying at the house with the girls?”
“I’m going,” Madison says, squeezing my hand. “I don’t think it’s safe to be away from you right now.”
“It didn’t even sound like Coach,” Callum says suddenly, his voice dropping. “Think someone has his phone?”
I snort. “Why would someone text us from his phone?”
“To trap us, obviously,” Callum replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Callum,” I start, but Winter cuts in.
“He’s not entirely wrong,” she says, her tone hesitant. “We’re safer together. Splitting up doesn’t make sense.”
Tristan shakes his head. “Winter’s not leaving this car. Not when I don’t know what Coach has planned or who the fuck actually texted us.” The girls aren’t going to let us take them to the house, and we’re sure as shit not taking them on this little extravaganza of fuckery. I turn to head toward the arena, so we can figure out a game plan.
“I’ll go in by myself,” I say as I pull into the lot. All the lights are on in the arena and there are a few cars parked randomly in the lot. “You two stay here with the girls. Double protection if something’s off.”
“No,” Madison says. She sits straighter, her hand tightening in mine. “We’re all going in together, or not at all. I’ve got a really bad feeling, Hayden.”
Before I can argue, the driver’s side window shatters.
Glass rains down around me, and smoke floods the car, and it feels like I’m choking. Madison’s hand tightens in mine. All I hear is shouting and then doors slamming.
My girl’s hand goes limp, and then everything fades to black.