Chapter 4
Ryan
I stand in the doorway, my few possessions in worn duffel bags at my feet. The space is bigger than my old single, and yet it might as well be a cage. Two beds. Two desks. Two dressers. One bathroom.
And one husband I never asked for.
Wish I still had my room from last year, the one Coach Nieminen and my foster dad secured for me when I came to Crestwood. Having a roommate was out of the question, not when I haven’t felt safe with anyone in the past four years.
My hands won't stop shaking, so I shove them into the pockets of my joggers. It’s been three days since Walsh pointed a gun at me, drugged me, and then forced me to marry him.
My body still hasn't caught up to what happened.
The sedative left me foggy for most of Saturday, drifting in and out of awareness while my mind tried to process the impossible.
I'm married.
The words sit in my chest like a stone. Mom always said I'd find someone who'd sweep me off my feet. Guess being drugged and dragged to Connecticut counts. Should've read the fine print on that fairy tale.
“You planning to stand there all day?” Coach Harper's voice startles me.
He’s carrying one of my boxes, eyes studying me with that all-knowing look he gets sometimes, like he can see through my skin to all the broken parts beneath.
“Sorry.” I pick my two bags up off the floor and step into the room, claiming the bed by the window. Not because I want the view, but because it's farther from the door.
Coach Harper sets the box on the closest desk, eyes flicking over me with a furrowed brow like he’s been doing all weekend. “Viktor's ready to hunt Connor down for missing the wedding. Haven't seen him this pissed since Merci was attacked last semester.”
My chest tightens. My own team captain is holding me captive, and there's no one coming to save me. Not like they saved Merci.
Because you’re not one of them.
Haven’t mentioned anything to Kai either. Still can’t believe we’re at the same college. But what would I even say about my current situation?
He wanted to kill Knight for punching me at the frat party last year. Can’t imagine what he’d do to Connor.
No. I can't drag him into this. Kai saved me once, came running when—
I shake my head, not wanting that memory to take hold, and rub at the goosebumps breaking out on my arms. I'm stronger now. Supposed to be able to handle my own problems.
“Ryan?” Coach Harper's voice pulls me back. “You okay?”
I force myself to nod, but the movement feels wooden. “Yeah. Just tired.”
His jaw tightens. “You've been off since we got back. If something happened while we were gone, you can talk to me about it.”
Except my husband would actually kill me if I did.
Though at this point, death might be the better option. At least corpses don't have to share a room with him.
“Nothing happened.”
“I'll go grab the last box.” Coach stares at me, lips pressed into a tight line as if he’s trying to control his temper. “You sure you're okay? Nieminen and I could talk to housing, see if we can get you a single?”
“Everything’s fine.”
But it’s not.
Hasn’t been for a long time.
I let out a deep sigh the moment he leaves, dropping my backpack onto the bed. My stomach clenches as I open it, then pull out a notebook before retrieving the two photos hidden inside.
My eyes water at the first one. It’s my entire family.
Mom's got powdered sugar on her nose. Dad's making bunny ears behind Sarah's head, his wedding ring catching the kitchen light. Sarah’s smile is so wide I can almost hear the way she always snorted when she laughed too hard. And there’s me at seven, holding the bear up like I just won the Stanley Cup.
What I wouldn’t give to see them in person. To hug them once more.
Tears run down my cheeks when I get to the second photo, my thumb tracing the edges. Sarah's arm is slung around my shoulders, both of us mid-laugh. Her mouth is open wide, probably telling one of those jokes where she'd forget the punchline halfway through but commit to it anyway.
They’re gone. And I’m still here, still breathing when all I ever wanted was to stop.
My stomach twists into knots, cold sweat slicking my palms. A drowning, hollow ache throbs beneath my ribs, reminding me of what I survived.
And what I didn’t.
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat akin to hands around my neck. I wanted to follow them. Wanted it so badly, I tasted ash on my tongue.
Until Connor pointed that gun at me, then suddenly I wanted to live. Fucked up how that works.
After wiping my eyes, I slide the photos back into the notebook and place them in the desk drawer.
The bear comes out of my backpack next, and I rest him against my pillow.
His fur's matted down on one side, and there's a faint brownish stain near his ear—blood that wouldn't wash away.
Mouse added a few small holes to his belly.
Not mad about it since she found him comforting too.
She even wedged herself between the bear and me last night.
Novotny wasn’t thrilled I stayed the weekend because Mouse had been ignoring him since he got back from Austria. He casually mentioned I should leave on Saturday. But Coach insisted I stay, that he was going to help me move in since I don’t have a car.
“That's the bed you're claiming?”
I spin around. Connor stands in the doorway. He disappeared after dropping me back at the apartment on Friday evening. Just dumped me at the curb and drove off.
Too bad it didn’t last.
“I—yeah.”
His designer luggage thuds against the floor as he wheels it to the other bed. His dark blue jeans and white sneakers are probably name-brand. Bet the maroon T-shirt is too. I doubt someone as rich as Connor would wear anything from a thrift shop or Target.
“Where's Harper? Saw his SUV outside.”
I shrug, then hunch my shoulders, trying to make myself smaller, as though I’m not the biggest person in the room. “Didn’t you pass him?”
Young’s Hall is a repurposed mansion. There are no elevators, so they had to walk past each other. Unless Coach detoured. Most of the hockey team dorms here, so maybe one of my teammates needed him for something.
Connor’s phone vibrates, and he pulls it out of his pocket, growling before tossing it onto the bed. I glance at the screen.
Veronica.
His girlfriend . . . former girlfriend.
Why couldn’t he just marry her, then get divorced later? Hell, why couldn’t he find some other girl? Why drag me into this mess?
Or maybe that’s the reason. By marrying a man, Connor’s making sure his parents can't salvage their plans.
My teeth grind until my temples ache. I force my shoulders to stay loose, but my muscles tense anyway.
“Did you tell him anything?” Connor’s voice drops low, dangerous.
I shake my head and busy myself unpacking. Better than punching his face in. I can’t let myself lose control.
Not ever again.
“Tell me what?” Coach Harper walks in with the last of my stuff, glaring at my husband. “Have something to tell me, Walsh?”
A muscle in Connor's jaw jumps, as if fighting not to bare teeth. “Where’s Viktor? Thought he would’ve joined you.”
Coach sets the box down on the floor near my desk, never taking his eyes off Connor. “Took Mouse to the vet.”
My eyes widen, mouth agape.
Coach turns to me and holds up a hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And I did?” Connor raises a brow, as if challenging the man, or more like poking to see if I lied about telling anyone anything.
Coach’s upper lip twitches. But instead of arguing, he turns to me. “You need anything, you let me know.”
I nod, then he leaves, and it’s just me and Connor.
Alone.
My heart beats wildly. But Connor doesn’t say anything, just unpacks. So, I continue to do the same. He has so much stuff: expensive clothes, a top-of-the-line laptop, the newest Nintendo Switch. The contrast makes me feel small.
Poor.
Less than.
I fold my faded shirts quickly, tucking loose threads into seams so they won’t show. Connor watches as I walk to the dresser. His hazel eyes linger for a moment too long before he tears his gaze away.
Ducking my head, I start lining up my shirts edge to edge. It’s one of the few things that gives me a small sense of control since the day my life went sideways eight years ago.
“This the infamous bear?”
I spin around and find Connor holding my teddy bear. No. I grit through my teeth, nostrils flaring. “Put. Him. Down.”
“Seriously? You're nineteen and still sleep with a stuffed animal?” Connor's laugh is cruel, like sharp blades of ice.
“I said put him down!”
“Or what?” He tosses the bear up and it tumbles through the air just like . . . Sarah's body.
One second I'm by the dresser, the next I'm slamming Connor against the wall, my forearm across his throat. The bear drops to the floor between us.
“You threatened my scholarship. My life.” My voice doesn't sound like mine. Instead, it’s a deep rumble. I lean closer, looming over him. “Leave. My fucking. Bear. Alone.”
Connor goes rigid, his jaw slackens for a split second, breath hitching as his pupils dilate. His hands fly up, fingers splaying as if to steady himself, then curl into fists against my forearm. His chin juts forward, the line of his mouth hardening. “And what if I don't?”
I press my forearm harder into his throat, lifting him just enough that his toes barely touch the ground. My pulse pounds in my ears, pressure building at my temples. “You took my freedom when you forced me to marry you. Took my first kiss. I won’t let you take my bear.”
He goes still, mouth half open, and he just stares for a second. “Your . . . first kiss?”
My face and neck heat. While there’s a few reasons I've never kissed anyone, there’s mainly one. No one wants someone like me. Someone broken, scarred, and worth nothing.
Connor smirks, and I dig in more, my nostrils flaring, teeth bared. He glares at me even as he now sputters, punching my arm, his face turning purple.
No. No. No.
The last time I lost it, people ended up in the ER. And I ended up in a group home. I won’t hurt anyone like that again. Not even Connor.
I retreat so fast I almost trip. When his color returns to normal, I snatch the bear off the floor, clutching it to my chest. “Don't touch him again. Don't even look at him.”
He rubs his throat, glaring at me. “The bear is off limits. For now.”
“Get fucked.”
Wrong thing to say because Connor explodes forward, grabbing the front of my gray T-shirt. He backs me into the desk, snarling through clenched teeth.
“Growing some balls?” His breath is hot against my face, watermelon sweet. “Maybe you need a reminder of who owns you.”
Everything narrows to points of contact—his knuckles against my chest, his thigh between mine, the way his eyes keep dropping to my mouth. My skin prickles, pulse slams against my throat. Something deep in my gut coils, hot and wrong and—
No!
I wrench sideways, stumbling as I put distance between us. My entire body trembles as my heart races, lungs closing. Bile creeps up my throat. My fingers dig into the teddy bear, gripping it like a lifeline.
He’s too close. Too close. Too close.
Connor reaches out, then violently jerks his hand back. But he doesn’t move, only stands there.
“Leave me alone!” I turn away and bury my face in my bear's worn fur, eyes squeezed shut, unable to stop shaking.
“Look at me.”
“Get out! Please!” My voice cracks, high and desperate like I’m eleven again, when everything ended. “Please! Please! Just get out!”
A moment later, a door closes.
I stay like that, sobbing into the teddy bear until I eventually calm enough to open my eyes. Connor’s gone. Not sure if he’s in the bathroom or if he left the dorm completely.
Doesn’t matter.
He saw. He saw me shatter into pieces.
And now he’s going to use it to control me.
To torture me.
I drop down onto my bed and curl into a ball, clutching my bear close. The room spins a little at the edges, making my stomach roil. I squeeze my eyes shut again and focus on the fur beneath my cheek, waiting for everything to settle.
Sophomore year was supposed to be a step forward. I was supposed to work harder, play better, prove I belong here. Instead, it's falling apart before the season begins.
Just like that day not all of us made it home.