12. Carter
twelve
carter
Sydney Windsor is an elixir I didn’t know I needed.
Okay, that’s a lie. Scarlett Blake shoved her into my path, and I never wanted to let her go. But that intensity, that soon… it scared her. And me, a bit. We were freshmen in college, and I was just figuring out the hockey thing.
Hockey is and always has been my life. Turning my back on it, or at least letting her distract me, seemed… detrimental to my future. Unlike Oliver, who will be playing for the Colorado Titans when he stops fucking around and deferring, I’ll face the NHL draft next year. My agent is working behind the scenes, but he knows I’m committed to finishing out my last year at school. All that is to say—we’ll see. I just need to be enough.
I leave Sydney’s apartment and head to FSU. It’s an off-limits place, but I tug my ball cap lower and keep my head down. I take a seat on a bench in the quad and watch the students pass by. A lot don’t look at me twice, which is nice. Some do, but I ignore them.
I ignore a lot of the attention foisted on me nowadays, because it’s the only way I can keep calm.
Someone catches my eye. A collection of girls, one of which is sporting two black eyes. Sydney’s soft admission before I left was that it wasn’t any of the hockey guys. Which is good, because I would go straight to her fucking father and get them all expelled.
Which leaves girls. And these girls…
Well, it would make sense that Sydney would fight back, right?
They leave the student center and part ways. I stick with the girl with the black eyes, more curious than anything. She peels off and heads for the parking garage. She doesn’t notice me tagging along, sticking to the shadows. I keep my head down, peeking under the brim of my hat. The last thing I need is for her to report what I’m about to do…
And for cameras to confirm her story.
A few cars ahead of her, an SUV’s lights flash. I pick up my pace and catch up just as she steps between her vehicle and the one beside it. She’s tall and muscular, almost my height, but I take her by surprise.
I shove her against her car, my hand on the back of her head keeping her cheek to the glass.
“Don’t look at me,” I hiss. “I’ll cut your fucking eyes out.”
Her eyes squeeze shut.
“Tell me what happened with Sydney.”
“Nothing,” she cries. “Sydney? I’ve never?—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.” My knife is in my hand in an instant, the blade sliding free from the handle with a soft scrape. I press it to her throat. “Try again. Sydney Windsor.”
“I don’t?—”
“She broke your nose, hmm?” I lean forward, until my lips are almost at her ear. I don’t want to touch her, but I’m practically flattened against her. The brim of my hat touches her temple. “She got the best of you for a moment, didn’t she? And now I do.”
I press harder on her throat. At the first cut, the girl breaks. She’s trembling so bad, I have to remove the knife or risk slitting her throat on accident . That would be a travesty. I like to do things with purpose. This girl bleeding out in the FSU parking garage would only create… sympathy for her.
When Sydney deserves the school’s sympathy more than anyone.
I grit my teeth and curl my fingers into her hair. I pull her head back a fraction and slam it back to the glass.
“ Talk ,” I order.
“It wasn’t my idea,” she cries. Tears spill down her cheeks. “I just wanted to fit in with Andi’s group. When she asked me, I couldn’t say no.”
“Ask her what?”
“T-to help her teach Sydney a lesson. We followed her into the bathroom during the game and?—”
“And?” I tug on her hair.
“And when it was empty, we taped her to the toilet. Took pictures?—”
My stomach flips. They fucking taped her—those bruises are from tape ?
“How long?”
She licks her lips. Such an unattractive girl, blubbering in my hold.
“Come on,” I say, switching tactics. “You tell me this, I let you go. Yeah? You can go home like none of this happened. Or you clam up, and I give you a permanent reminder of tonight.”
Take that as she will.
The smell of urine rises between us.
I bite back my curse and shift back, out of the way as she loses control of her bladder.
“We closed the bathroom,” she finally whispers. “I think the janitor found her after the game…”
I release her. The knife folds, tucks back in my pocket. The phone comes out.
I snap a picture of my own.
“Andi Sharpe. She was the mastermind behind your little plan?”
The girl jumps away from me. Her gaze sticks to my shoes, my earlier threat apparently still fresh in her mind. The business of cutting out her eyes turns my stomach, but she doesn’t have to know that.
“Oliver texted her that Sydney was at the game,” she whispers. “But I don’t think he told her what to d0?—”
“Where can I find her?”
“I—”
“If you lie, this picture is going straight to your FSU gossip page.” I shove my phone, and the photo of her with soiled pants, under her face. “Where does she live?”
Andi Sharpe lives with one roommate. I wait until their lights go out, then wait a little more. When I’m convinced they’re most likely asleep, I break into their first-floor apartment. I don’t bother concealing the sounds. The cracking, falling glass is loud enough.
I climb in, my boots hitting the floor hard. I glance around the common area and grab a chair from their kitchen table. I drag it with me and shove it under the roommate’s door handle. It wouldn’t stop her if she tried to force it open, since it swings inward, but it’ll stop the handle from turning… and that should be enough for someone who might be too scared to even try.
Following the loose instructions the black-eyed girl gave me, I head down the hallway and shove open Andi’s bedroom door.
It cracks against the far wall, and the girl screams. She’s sitting upright in bed, her phone in her hand.
“I’ve called nine-one-one,” she cries.
I stride forward and snatch it, ending the call. I’m going to fucking hold on to her phone and get to the bottom of who decided to hurt Sydney. But not right now. Now, Andi scrambles back. Except there’s nowhere for her to go. I grab her by her throat and haul her out of bed.
My face is obscured by a ski mask, but she can see my eyes. She grasps at my hands, trying to pry my fingers away. I squeeze. Her feet kick, but she’s petite. At this angle, she can’t reach the floor.
“Sydney is off-limits,” I say. “Say yes.”
Andi’s face reddens. It’s obvious even in the dark.
We stare at each other, until finally she lets out a croaking, “Yes!”
Good enough.
I throw her onto the bed and turn away. The sirens in the distance make me tilt my head. I look down at her.
“I’m sure you have some pretty nasty texts,” I say, sliding her phone back out of my pocket. “Talking shit about people, maybe a few secrets you hold close or let slip…”
Her jaw works. She’s afraid and defiant.
I’d be into that if I didn’t already have Sydney.
“This didn’t happen. A lot of embarrassing shit about you will come out if you tell anyone. Say yes if you understand.”
She glowers and finally mutters, “Yes.”
I turn on my heel. I slip out the way I came and move between the buildings. I peel the ski mask from my head and toss it in a bin in the alley. My gloves go in my pockets. Whether she’s actually going to call the police is anyone’s guess.
In a matter of minutes, I’m back outside Sydney’s apartment.
She needs to be better looked after. She has no one else… no one but me.
I rotate in a small circle. Hockey seems like a lifetime away. My whole life at St. James does. The guilt of not being able to stop the avalanche that buried Sydney consumes me. It has since the summer…
But this is next level.
This street is filled with brownstones. My attention snags on a small sign in the window of one across the street. Apartments for rent .
A phone number.
Maybe the best way to keep Sydney safe is to be so close to her I’ll practically be her shadow.