39. Wren #2
Pushing on to my toes, I try to find the guys through the chaos of celebrations and commiserations.
“Wren!”
I turn at the call of my name. Dylan is skating toward me through the chaos, still in full gear. Her helmet is gone, sweat plastering dark hair to her forehead. Teammates are trying to pull her back into the celebration, but she ignores all of them.
“What the hell was that with Lucian?” she asks, pulling me into a hug over the boards. It’s awkward with all the gear she’s got on.
I groan, covering my face with my hands. “I have no idea. He looked like a man possessed.”
“I thought he was going to kill Evans.”
Yeah, she’s not the only one. Footage from the fight is already going viral on social media.
“I’m sorry.” Reaching out, I squeeze her hand. “Congrats on the win, but I need to go find him.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. Go see what’s happening.” She returns my gesture with a squeeze of her own. “Call me later to let me know all is okay.”
I pull her in for a quick hug before heading for the tunnel. There’s a lack of purple jerseys hanging about, so I’m guessing most of the guys have gone back to the locker room to commiserate in private.
Picking up my pace, I’m practically running as I hurry up the tunnel.
The knot in my stomach grows tighter with every step.
I don’t know what happened, but I know my boys. I know Lucian. Whatever drove him to throw away the Frozen Four wasn’t small.
By the time I reach the Kings’ locker room, my pulse is hammering. I can hear the noise even in the hall, so I bypass it to go in search of Lucian. I can’t confront Ronan or Silas in a room full of other players, but Lucian will be in a room on his own.
I stick my head in the training room and physio suite, but he’s not there. Eventually, I find him in a conference room. He’s lying on top of the table, his arm over his eyes like he’s trying to block out the world.
Hearing the door, he pushes upright and turns to face me.
He must have already seen the medic cause he’s got a bandage wrapped around his hand. Otherwise, he appears unhurt. Still, the sight of him has me stilling on the threshold.
Gone is the rage from earlier. What’s left in its wake is somehow worse. That broken look I’d caught a glimpse of earlier is even more prominent. He looks like someone scooped out everything inside him and left the shell behind.
“Lucian.”
I simply stand there, unable to tear my eyes away from him.
The door closes with a soft snick behind me. The noise snaps me out of whatever trance I was in, and in the next second, I’m across the room and wrapping him up in my arms.
His arms instantly fold around me, pulling me close as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. I can feel his breaths, harsh and jagged against my skin.
The day of our communications class, when he fell apart, he was a mess. But this Lucian is…raw. Every layer of protection he keeps wrapped around him has been peeled back, leaving him exposed.
I run my fingers through his hair, pressing kisses to his temple as he takes comfort from me.
“What happened?” I eventually ask, breaking the silence.
I feel his throat work, still, he doesn’t lift his head or look at me.
“I can’t.”
That response punches straight through my chest.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
His hands clench around the fabric of my shirt at my back. Then unclench.
“I can’t,” he says again, voice rough.
Fear begins crawling up my spine.
“You’re scaring me.”
That gets his attention. Immediately, his head snaps up. The pain in his eyes almost undoes me.
Before either of us can say another word, the door opens. Ronan steps inside, Silas on his heels. The second I see their faces, any notion I had that this was some stupid rivalry between Lucian and Isaac that got out of hand snuffs out, because they look exactly like Lucian.
A tense silence settles over the room. One filled with unspoken words. The air feels heavy. Thick. Wrong.
Disentangling myself from Lucian, I shift so I can face all three of them.
“Somebody needs to tell me what the hell is going on.”
Silence.
Concern bleeds into my own form of violence.
My hand smacks against the tabletop. I point an accusing finger at Lucian. “You probably got yourself suspended. Your contract with the Serpents will absolutely be under review after that stunt you pulled.”
Rounding on Ronan and Silas, I continue, “And you two look like you’re planning a funeral. So someone better tell me what the hell is going on, right fucking now.”
There’s a beat before Silas steps forward, closing the space between us.
Despite just demanding answers, I swallow, suddenly anxious for what’s about to come. Whatever it is, it’s bad. I just can’t imagine what would be so awful that Lucian would risk his future over it.
He reaches for his pocket where I know he keeps his notebook, then he pauses, seeming to think before lifting his head and meeting my stare.
A moment passes between us.
When he finally speaks, I’m so taken aback by the fact that he’s spoken that it takes me a second, where I soak up the thick, deep rasp of his voice, to register what he said.
“That coin I had, the one from the night you were…it belongs to Isaac.”
I blink at him.
My gaze slides to Ronan, then Lucian, before returning to Silas.
For a second, I don’t understand.
“What?”
Silas’s jaw tightens. His throat works as though he’s trying to form more words, but can’t seem to find them.
Ronan moves closer, hands out at his sides as though approaching a cornered animal. “Before the game, Silas dropped the coin. Isaac recognized it as one he had lost. Freshman year.”
“That doesn’t…” I trail off, shaking my head instead.
“It’s him.” Despite being spoken softly, I flinch at Silas’s words. At the memories they invoke.
Loud music. A spinning room. A voice I’ve never been able to make out or recall.
…Could that voice have been Isaac’s?
I wrack my brain so hard that it hurts.
Shaking my head, I frown in frustration. “I don’t—”
My voice breaks.
“Wren—” Lucian speaks for the first time, reaching for me.
I step back, shaking my head. I can’t handle comfort right now. My chest hurts. Everything hurts.
Reaching blindly for a chair, I drop into it, staring at the gray carpet at my feet.
Silas found a coin by my body that night.
Isaac recognized that coin as his. One he lost that same year.
What are the chances it’s a coincidence? What are the chances that that coin isn’t his?
Zero. Nil. Zilch.
It might not be irrefutable proof, but the pieces don’t align any other way.
“Say it,” I croak.
I wait a second before lifting my head.
“Say it.”
“Wren—” Ronan begins, stepping closer.
“No.” I hold up my hand, stopping him in his tracks. “I need to hear you say it.”
My voice shatters. Tears burn behind my eyes.
The room is silent.
I keep my gaze focused on Ronan, knowing he’s going to be the one to do it. It’s the same reason why he’s captain.
He closes his eyes briefly, blowing out a breath like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. When he finally opens them, I see resolve in his hazel depths.
He looks directly at me. “We believe Isaac is the one who…raped you.”
Despite the fact that I’m sitting down, the floor falls away beneath me.
No one speaks. What is there to say?
The silence sits heavy between us, like a weight around my neck.
If they’re right…
Then my rapist isn’t a faceless stranger anymore. He’s real. He's somebody I know. Someone I’ve spent time with. Talked to.
My stomach rolls violently. Curling in on myself, a broken sob rips from my throat.
Immediately, I’m surrounded by muscle. Ronan crouches in front of me with Silas and Lucian on either side.
Hands covering my mouth, I rock back and forth.
My mind is blank.
How many times have I wished I knew who he was? That I thought finding out would be closure.
This doesn’t feel like closure. This isn’t freedom.
It feels like being dragged back into that night all over again. Only this time, the darkness has a face, and I know exactly what it looks like.