Crossing The Line 3 (The Avalon Wolves #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

DECLAN

My head is killing me.

I wake up on the bus with my face pressed against the cold window, my neck at an angle that's going to leave me sore for days. The overhead lights are too bright. The engine noise is too loud. Everything is too much.

I squint at my watch. It is nine in the morning. We've been driving for two hours.

Ashton is sprawled in the seat across the aisle, headphones in, eyes closed. Most of the team are sleeping off last night's celebrations. We won. We celebrated. Hard.

Too hard, apparently, because I can barely remember getting on this bus.

I found my phone under my bed this morning. It had been deader than dead. I reach for it, sitting in the holder and charging. I turn it on, rubbing my eyes and yawning.

And then I see the many texts, and the voicemail icon is on.

I check the texts first.

Most of them are from Sutton.

I scroll through the messages with dread pooling low in my belly. Each one becomes progressively more upset, angry, and hurt. She’s pissed. I try to remember the last time we talked. What did I say?

And what photo? What is she talking about?

I try calling her. It goes straight to voicemail.

I try again—same thing.

"Shit," I mutter, loud enough that Pierce looks over from the seat in front of me.

"You okay, man?"

"No." I keep staring at my phone like it might give me answers. "Sutton's pissed. Something about a photo."

"Oh." Pierce winces. "Yeah. About that."

"About what?"

He pulls out his phone and shows me the screen.

It's me. In a hotel hallway. My arm around Bree's waist. She's wearing my hoodie. We're standing outside a hotel room door.

The photo looks damning as hell.

"What the hell?" I stare at the image. "When was this taken?"

"Last night. It's all over social media. Everyone's talking about it." Pierce lowers his voice. "Declan, what were you doing with Bree?"

"I don't know." I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember through the fog of alcohol. "I ran into her in the hallway. She was crying. Said Holden told her to leave him alone after the fight."

The fight.

It comes back to me in flashes. Holden is shoving me on the ice. I am shoving back. Both of us dropped our gloves while our teammates tried to pull us apart.

"Why did you fight with Holden?" Pierce asks. “He’s still pissed at you, by the way.”

"He accused me of leading Bree on. Said I was giving her mixed signals. Confiding in her about my relationship problems." I run my hand through my hair. "Which is complete bullshit."

“She dumped him.”

“I don't talk to Bree. I avoid her. I've been avoiding her since she started dating Holden."

"That's not what she's been telling people."

My stomach drops. "What?"

Pierce shifts uncomfortably. "Bree's been saying things. To Holden. To other people. That you're unhappy with Sutton. That you've been venting to her about your relationship. That you're only staying with Sutton out of guilt."

"That's bullshit!"

"I know that. You know that. But Holden believed her. I’m guessing Sutton is questioning things as well." He gestures to my phone. "That photo doesn't help."

I look at the image again. My arm is around Bree's waist. She's leaning into me. We're standing way too close.

But I remember now. She was crying. Makeup running down her face. She asked me to walk her to her room because she was scared to go alone. She said some guys from the other team were harassing her in the lobby.

I was drunk. Tired. I just wanted to get her to her room so I could go to bed.

So I walked her down the hall. I put my arm around her because she was crying and stumbling in her heels. Waited while she fumbled with her key card.

"She set me up," I say quietly.

"What?"

"Bree. She set me up." I'm remembering more now. How she asked me to wait while she grabbed her phone from inside the room. How she came back out wearing my hoodie—the one I'd left in the team lounge earlier. How she thanked me for being such a good friend and hugged me before I left.

Someone must have taken the photo during those few minutes we were standing there.

"She planned this," I continue. "The crying. The walk to her room. Wearing my hoodie. All of it. She knew someone would take a photo."

"That's pretty elaborate," Pierce says, but he doesn't sound skeptical. He sounds like he believes me.

"She's been trying to break us up since Sutton moved in. This is just her latest move." I try calling Sutton again. Straight to voicemail. "Dammit."

Ashton pulls out his headphones and leans across the aisle. "You look like hell."

"I feel like hell." I show him my phone. "Sutton's not answering."

He takes one look at my screen, and his expression darkens. "You saw the photo."

"Pierce showed me."

"It's bad, man. It's everywhere. The hockey gossip accounts picked it up. Someone posted it to the main school group chat. Everyone's talking about it."

"I need to talk to Sutton. I need to explain."

"She blocked you," Crew says. "Your calls are going to voicemail because she blocked your number."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "She blocked me?"

"Keira told me. Sutton's devastated. She thinks you cheated."

"I didn't cheat! I walked Bree to her room because she was crying!"

"I believe you. But that photo doesn't look good. Keira was mad at me, like I was the one hanging on Bree.”

“I wasn’t hanging on Bree,” I retort.

“Keira stayed the night with her. She was pretty upset.”

"It was innocent. Completely innocent. She was upset about Holden. I was trying to be nice."

"And Bree used that against you." Pierce's jaw clenches.

"She's been playing this game for weeks.

Holden told me some of the things she said to him.

About you being unhappy. About you confiding in her.

She's been building this narrative so that when something like this happened, everyone would believe it. "

"Why would she do this?"

"Because she wants you. And she wants to destroy your relationship with Sutton." Crew leans back in his seat. "She's manipulative as hell, Declan. We all see it. But Holden was too caught up to notice until last night."

"What happened with Holden?"

"After the fight, he confronted Bree. Told her he knew she was lying about you.

She broke down crying, saying you'd been leading her on, giving her hope that you'd leave Sutton for her.

" Ashton's expression is grim. "He dumped her on the spot.

That's when she started her performance in the hotel hallway. "

I feel sick. "She orchestrated all of this."

"Yeah. And it worked."

I sit up and scan the seats for Holden. He’s near the front, wearing his sunglasses, hoodie up, and looking very much like the Unabomber. He’s staying as far from me as he can.

I need to make things right with him, but Sutton first. Holden should have known better.

I try calling Sutton again. Voicemail.

I send her a text, knowing she won't see it if she's blocked me, but I still need to try.

Me: Please talk to me. It's not what it looks like. I can explain everything.

The message doesn't deliver.

"What do I do?" I ask Pierce.

"Give her space. Let her cool down. Then try to explain when she's ready to listen."

"What if she never wants to listen?"

He doesn't have an answer for that.

The rest of the bus ride is torture. I keep checking my phone, hoping for a message that never comes. I replay last night over and over, trying to figure out where I went wrong.

I should have ignored Bree. But I was drunk and tired and trying to be a decent human being.

To me, there was never a chance for anything to happen.

I trusted myself implicitly. I didn’t care if I was blackout drunk—I would never touch Bree.

Sutton was it for me. I had no interest in another woman. Period.

We pull into campus just after ten. I practically run off the bus, pushing guys out of the way with my bag slung over my shoulder.

Ashton catches up with me. We carpooled, so I guess I’m not going anywhere without him.

I get in the car, taking the front passenger seat of his Mercedes. The rest of the guys pile in—except Holden.

“Holden’s getting a ride with Phillips,” Pierce said without anyone asking.

I didn’t have the energy to deal with that shit right now.

I put on my sunglasses and lean my head back. Everyone is quiet. They’re feeding off my energy.

"She thinks I cheated. She thinks I'm the same asshole I was during freshman year. I need to fix this."

"You will,” Crew says. “But you need to be smart about it. Don't go in there guns blazing. Don't corner her. Give her a minute to breathe."

"I don't have a minute. I need to fix this now."

The house is quiet when we walk in. I drop my bag by the door and take the stairs two at a time.

Sutton's door is closed.

I knock softly. "Sutton? Can we talk?"

Nothing.

"Sutton, please. I know you're upset. I know what it looked like. But I can explain."

Still nothing.

I try the doorknob. Locked.

"I didn't cheat on you," I say through the door. "I would never cheat on you. That photo is not what it looks like. Bree was crying. I walked her to her room. That's it. Nothing happened."

Silence.

I press my forehead against the door. "Please, Sutton. Just talk to me. Let me explain."

I hear movement on the other side. My heart leaps.

"Go away, Declan."

Her voice is cold. Flat. Nothing like the warm, teasing tone I'm used to.

"I'm not going away. Not until you hear me out."

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear your excuses or your lies or whatever story you've come up with."

"It's not a story! It's the truth!"

"I'm done, Declan. I'm done being the girl who falls for your bullshit. I'm done trusting you when you clearly don't deserve it. I'm done."

"Don't say that."

"We're over. For real this time. Don't call me. Don't text me. Don't knock on my door. I don't want anything to do with you."

"Sutton, please."

"I mean it, Declan. We're done."

I hear her footsteps moving away from the door and the creak of her bed as she sits down.

I stand there for a long moment, my hand pressed against the wood, trying to figure out what to do.

But there's nothing I can do. She won't listen. Won't even look at me.

I go to my room and collapse on my bed.

My phone buzzes. For a second, I think it might be Sutton. But it's just another notification about the photo. Another comment. Another person weighing in on my relationship drama.

How did this happen? How did everything fall apart so quickly?

Two days ago, we were fine. More than fine. We were happy.

Now she won't even speak to me.

There's a knock on my door.

"Go away," I mutter.

The door opens anyway. Crew pokes his head in. "Uh, dude? There's something outside your door you should see."

"I don't care."

"Trust me. You want to see this."

I drag myself up and follow him into the hallway.

There's a trash bag outside my door.

I stare at it for a moment, confused.

"Open it," Crew says quietly.

I pick up the bag and look inside.

It's another one of my hoodies. And one of my T-shirts that Sutton sleeps in.

It’s a message. We live together, so she can’t make a big exit scene, but I get it.

She’s really done this time.