12. Winter
WINTER
“ W e should sneak back here before the game ends so we can miss the crowd,” Madi says as we walk down the hallway that leads from the hockey locker room and up to the arena. I don’t think they should have a game the day after the carnival because everyone is tired and feels like shit.
Lilac chimes in, “You know how squirrely the guys get when we’re not here right after they’re finished showering and changing.
The crowd is going to be a nightmare to get through.
” It’s senior year, and the first home game is always a big deal, but especially since this one is against St. Augustine.
Madi and Lilac’s words blend together, muffled by the thoughts in my head that have been buzzing around all morning. I’m walking between them, nodding when I need to, pretending I’m part of the conversation.
But I’m not.
I’m not fully here.
Not really.
My head is still in the sitting room with Tristan last night.
The way he couldn’t get close enough to me even before we sat down to read. The way his voice lowered to that tone that I’m delusional enough to imagine no one else has ever heard from him before.
The way his body tensed when I turned in his arms, the subtle shift of his breathing as he read.
It was as if he were trying to stay calm.
Trying to stay focused on anything but the way we fit together.
We shouldn’t fit so perfectly with our size difference.
He’s gigantic, and I feel so small in his hands, yet so powerful at the same time.
He thought I was asleep when I shifted, my thigh brushing over his hardness.
I couldn’t sleep with him lying that close.
Not with the way the sound of his voice makes everything inside me ache.
He was losing it last night, I’m sure of it.
He wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted him to.
Maybe that’s why I pretended to be asleep so he could get the relief he so desperately needs but won’t take from me or anyone else.
I kept my breath soft and slow while the muscles in his stomach tensed beneath my leg.
I felt him, all of him in a way that I never have before.
I would imagine Tristan’s mind, the twitch of his cock against his jeans when I shifted just slightly should have scared me.
It should have made me remember the pain, but instead I wanted him to pull me on top of him.
I wanted his eyes on mine this time as just the tip slid inside of me.
I know Tristan better than anyone else in any universe will ever know him, and I’m fully convinced that we could erase the trauma of that night.
We could make each other feel good, erase the pain that was put upon us by evil people who don’t deserve a second thought from either of us.
Heat pools in my lower belly when I think of the sharp inhale of his breath when I moved my leg again, dragging the warm skin of my thigh over his bulge.
But it was the quiet, strangled sound he made through his nose when he came that I can’t unhear. I want to hear it again. But I want to hear it right against my ear, in the crook of my neck when he’s coming inside of me.
I don’t think I’ve breathed right since I woke up this morning swaddled in the colorful quilt Madi, Lilac and I made together on one of our girls’ nights.
Tristan was changed into fresh clothes, showered if his damp hair was any indication.
Instead of cuddled up with me, he was across the room, just watching me sleep.
Tristan doesn’t know I heard everything, felt every little twitch of his muscles. I need to be very careful how I navigate this going forward because I could see the guilt in his eyes when our gazes met this morning.
Tristan won’t let me help him.
Not like that.
Not in the way I so badly want to.
It doesn’t feel wrong to me, not even a little bit.
That’s what I can’t stop thinking about.
It should’ve. I should have some reservations of some kind, but I don’t. It should have felt wrong, even if just a little bit.
The truth is, it felt inevitable.
It felt like something I’ve been waiting for without letting myself admit it.
“Winter.” Madi bumps my arm gently. I blink, forcing myself to look up at her.
She smiles, and it’s an action that’s pure Madi, all warm and bright. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “Just spaced out.”
We pass a group of guys in Castlebrook frat sweatshirts. I’ve never spoken to them, but I know who they are because of their reputation on campus. They make it obvious that they’re avoiding looking at me and that makes me feel giddy.
It’s because of Tristan, and the hands off mandate he put down on me the moment we stepped on this campus together. There’s no question anymore, no one’s willing to risk his wrath, and that’s just how I like it.
Everyone knows who I belong to. Even if he and I don’t say it out loud. Even if we can’t fully act on it.
Madi suddenly stops short, her hand snapping out to grab both of us by the wrists. Her eyes sparkle, excitement bubbling over as she digs into the tote slung over her shoulder.
“Okay, wait, you guys. Before we go in, I have a little surprise,” she says, practically bouncing as she pulls out three bright, pastel pink jerseys.
The fabric catches under the hallway lights, soft and girly.
This must be the new design she was working on, but wouldn’t let anyone see quite yet.
Each one has our nicknames on the back, the numbers carefully sewn in a paler shade of pink.
Lilac gasps and coos over hers, running her neatly manicured nails over the sewn-on patches that spell Bambi across the back.
I just stare for a second, my throat tightening because I really love these two girls so much.
They’ve become the sisters I always wanted and the friends I didn’t think I would ever have.
Mine says dushen’ka. My fingers trace over it, and I hear it in my head exactly the way Tristan effortlessly pronounces it. Sometimes I swear it’s the only word that ever softens his voice. And the number beneath it, fifty-five. His number.
Something flutters hard in my chest, painful and sweet all at once.
Madi didn’t have to include me in the way that she has because Tristan and I aren't in a relationship. She must know what I’m thinking when I look up at her to thank her because she says, “I could have put your last name on there and your birth year like the ones I sell on my website, but I had a sneaking suspicion this is how Tristan would want it.”
We all squeal like idiots, clutching at each other as we peel off our regular jerseys right there in the hallway, stripping down to the tank tops we have underneath and slip into the pink ones instead.
Lilac spins once, admiring hers. I can’t stop smoothing my hand over mine, over the letters that spell out Kings on the chest.
“Madi!” Lilac launches at her, wrapping her in a hug. I follow, tucking myself into the other side. “Thank you. These are perfect.”
“You’re going to be inundated with orders when people see these,” I add, pulling back to look at her.
“Someone tried to custom order a Lockwood jersey with his last name swapped for Princess,” Madi tells us, giggling.
“You can’t do that. He’ll go to their house and take it from them,” Lilac says with such seriousness that I actually snort. We all tiptoe around Hayden, and it’s the funniest thing to me because all he wants is for no one to ever speak or look at Madi, and he doesn’t think that’s too much to ask.
“I know, I had to shut down the custom order section,” Madi laughs, cheeks flushed. “I’m going to have to hire someone to help me with orders soon, because I swear Hayden’s going to buy every bolt of pink fabric in the tri-state area and set it on fire just so I’ll stop being so preoccupied.”
Lilac almost sounds like she’s defending Hayden when she says, “He’s really so proud of you. I swear, all he does is tell people, my girl made that every single time he sees someone on campus in one of your pieces.”
I nod, still smiling. “He really does. I walk with him sometimes, heading from the library to dance class, and every time he’s yelling at someone about your store or about you in general.”
“Must be when he’s heading to psych,” she says easily. “We both have it, but I usually get there later. He waits for me.”
Something warm spreads through me at the way her voice softens, the way she says he waits for me.
Lilac grins, eyes sparkling. “Actually, if you want a peak Hayden story, I’ve got one for you.
He screamed at this poor freshman girl a few days ago and then bribed me with lavender lemonade from the coffee shop by the library not to tell you.
He said he promised you he’d stop being mean to strangers. ”
“Stop it right now,” I say. I mean, I fully believe everything she’s saying, but it’s just too funny to picture him.
“I was coming out of the library and this girl was approaching him. It was like a train wreck in slow motion. I knew exactly how it was going to end, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
” Lilac chuckles and then continues, “I started walking over there to try to stop her, but then he was yelling at her, ‘DON’T TALK TO ME, I HAVE A WIFE.’ ”
Madi’s face goes scarlet, like actually beet red. “Oh my God.”
“She was literally just lost looking for directions to her class,” Lilac says, laughing. “I meant to tell you, but he’s always around.”
Madi groans and covers her face with both hands. “He’s so?—”
“So in love?” I tease, bumping her hip before wrapping my arm around her waist. She’s taller than me, but I hang on anyway. “He doesn’t want attention from anyone else, and he’s very passionate about that, which isn’t the worst thing he could be doing.”
Lilac slips her arm around the other side of Madi, still grinning. “Imagine him with a daughter one day. He’s going to need to be sedated or put in federal prison when she’s old enough to date. There’s no universe where Hayden Lockwood handles that well.”
Madi tips her head back like she’s saying a silent prayer that she only has sons. We all know if she’s blessed with a daughter, she’s going to have exactly zero peace from her other half.
We’re almost at the end of the hall when I freeze.
Just off to the right, down the narrow corridor that leads to the admin offices, Coach Kav is standing with a girl. Not just any girl, it’s Eleanor Montrose.
I know her by reputation more than anything else. Pretty in that polished, effortless way old money girls always are. Pale blonde hair, delicate cheekbones, her blouse tucked perfectly into a skirt. She’s looking up at him like she doesn’t see anyone else in the world.
And he’s looking down at her the same way.
I’ve only ever seen Tristan’s coach crashing out with a clipboard and a slew of curses. But he looks soft right now. Focused only on the girl in front of him.
Coach Kav’s back is to us, so he doesn’t know we’re here. His voice is low, calm, meant just for Eleanor. There’s an intimacy in it that makes me feel like we’ve walked in on something we were never meant to see.
“Are they like…?” Lilac whispers, her brows raised.
Madi leans in, keeping her voice just as hushed. “I think she lives with him. I heard he’s best friends with her dad, and her dad’s missing or something? Her mom too. Don’t quote me, though. You know how the whisper network works around here.”
Lilac nods. “Yeah, I heard the same thing.”
I let out a small laugh, the sound quiet. “I’d have to talk to anyone other than you two to hear anything.”
That earns me twin giggles from both of them. But the sound dies fast when the coach turns abruptly, catching sight of us.
His expression hardens. “Get to your seats. You shouldn’t be back here.”
We shuffle forward immediately, like guilty kids caught sneaking cookies. Behind us, his voice drifts down the hall and he sounds more annoyed than angry.
The number eighty-eight on the back of Madi’s jersey must catch his eye because we hear him grumble, “I didn’t know that was Lockwood’s girlfriend. Now I’m going to have to deal with his ass.”
That sets us all off again, laughter bubbling out as we hurry away. Of course Hayden’s reputation precedes him.
I glance over my shoulder once, curious despite myself.
Coach Kav isn’t looking at us anymore. His head dips low, his mouth pressing to Eleanor’s forehead in a gesture so reverent it makes my chest ache.