11. LANE
LANE
I should be having a better time. A bonfire roars in the center of the clearing, sparks snapping into the night as smoke curls sweet and acrid in my lungs.
Music blasts from dented speakers that someone dragged out here, karaoke cutting in every thirty minutes, clashing with shouts and laughter.
Red cups are everywhere. People are dancing, crowding the flames.
It should feel like freedom. Like the perfect end to summer.
Instead, it feels like hell.
Because every time I look across the fire, I see her.
Cora’s perched on a log, laughing too easily at something one of the guys says. I tell myself I don’t care. That I don’t notice. My chest tightens anyway, and I hate it. I hate how my eyes find her even when I try not to.
I need to shake this off. Move on. Find something else, anything else, to worry about.
Leo shows up like he knows I need him and introduces me to a few football players. It’s surprising when they just wave me in, like I belong.
No one asks about the accident, and no one acts like I'm something they stepped in. Thank fuck.
It’s not that I can’t handle it—believe me, I've been through my fair share of public opinion. I knew the decision I made that night would follow me around, and it sucks, but I still stand by it.
There’s this moment of relief, where I’m not clenching my jaw for the first time tonight, that I feel like a normal college athlete.
We’re talking about the woes of practice during the season and some of the football guys tell me about their traditions.
I can’t help but wonder what it is about otters that made them all lean in so hard.
Then, like clockwork, Freddy shows up.
He cuts across the open area like he owns it, a smug expression locked right on Cora. My grip tightens on the cup in my hand. I tell myself to stay put, that it’s none of my business. She’s not my responsibility.
I keep glancing out of my peripheral vision to watch them talking. He’s standing, but she’s still down on the log, and her arms are crossed against her chest.
I try to focus on the football team’s version of tonight—apparently, all sports have their own pre-season ending tradition, just like the hockey team. But then Cora stands, clearly trying to brush past Freddy, and his hand wraps around her arm.
Fuck. I’m begging someone to see. Someone else to step in and make it their problem. I so badly don’t want it to be me.
But then he pulls her so hard, she almost stumbles into him. Something inside me detonates.
I’m across the clearing before I’ve even thought it through, shoving past bodies, the heat licking at my skin as I close the distance.
“Let. Go.” My voice is sharp, lethal as my hand lands on his arm.
Freddy turns, his eyes narrowing. “Mind your business. We’re just talking.” His grip doesn’t loosen and Cora twists, still trying to pull free.
“I said”—I step closer, my whole body coiled tight, and my face too close to his—“let go.”
For a moment, the only sound is the crackle of fire as the voices of the crowd fade beneath the pounding in my ears.
Freddy sneers but he finally drops his hand, holding them like he’s innocent. “Sheesh. Relax. You gonna fight me? Over her?”
I let out a laugh. “You think you can fight me?” The words are out before I can stop them, before I can pretend I don’t mean them.
Cora glares at me with flushed cheeks, firelight burning in her eyes. "I don’t need your help, Lane.”
The thanks I’ll never get. I knew it. And still, the sting lands deeper than it should. I swallow it down, jaw tight. “Doesn't look that way.”
Freddy scoffs and turns his back, and Cora watches him walk away. When she finally turns to me, her lips are pressed in a thin line and she tilts her head. What did I expect—for her to throw herself at my feet? Thank me for stepping in? Who the fuck knows.
It really has nothing to do with me if she wants to let Freddy treat her like a doormat.
Her mouth opens, a retort ready, but I can’t stand here and let her cut me down any more than she already has. I pivot and walk straight toward the edge of the crowd, my chest tight like it might crack open.
I try to put some distance between us. From me and the truth. Because the thing I won’t say—can’t say—is that I wanted to tear Freddy apart when he grabbed Cora like he owned her. For even looking at her like that. And it scares the hell out of me.
Before I can vanish into the dark, Leo appears beside me, red cup dangling in his hand.
He slings an arm across my shoulders, wearing that easy grin.
But when he speaks, it’s weighted. His voice is loud enough that he doesn’t seem to care if anyone else hears him.
“Appreciate you stepping in. Freddy’s kind of a dick.
” He takes a breath and then continues, quieter this time, “But you know, right? She’s off-limits. ”
Matty, our goalie jumps in. “She’s like our sister. And I know you want to fit in. That,” he points to Cora, “is not the way.” Noah nods in agreement.
The words slam into me harder than Freddy’s smug face ever could. I shrug them off, throat burning, eyes locked on the fire.
Off-limits. Like I don’t fucking know that.
And still, all I can think about is the heat that ripped through me when I saw his hand on her.
I hate it. I hate the pull to her.
And most of all, I hate that I care.