Chapter 4
Chapter Four
SUTTON
I’m fine.
Really, I am.
I think I’m supposed to say that every day, and then it comes true. Manifesting or something like that.
It’s not working. I feel more miserable today than I did a week ago.
I’m lying in bed listening to my alarm go off. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to go to practice. I’ve decided I hate ice hockey. If I didn’t have a team depending on me, I would bail. Hang up my skates and just focus on my last semester.
But I can’t do that. Not to mention, my father would be so disappointed. All those sacrifices he made to get me ice time. The hockey equipment.
Oh, and my scholarship depends on my playing hockey.
So I throw my blankets off and start the day.
I make coffee. I shower. I read ahead for my forensic science seminar because it moves fast, the reading is dense, and I like being prepared. These are the things that fill the hours.
I go to practice, and yeah, I suck. I just can’t conjure up any enthusiasm for the game.
After class, I’m heading to get another coffee because I seem to be existing on caffeine alone, and I hear my name.
I turn, expecting to see a friend or acquaintance.
But no one is looking at me—more like they are looking but pretending not to.
That’s when I figure it out—they’re talking about me.
Oh shit.
Declan and I.
Rumors of our breakup have been circulating for the last few days. I knew it was only a matter of time before they figured it out.
Instead of going for my usual coffee, I decide now is a good time to save some money and make my own at home.
I’m rushing toward the parking lot and run into Ashton.
“Why, God, why? What the hell did I do?” I mutter and pretend I don’t see him, but it’s too late. We make eye contact.
He doesn't say anything right away.
"Hey," I say.
"Hey." He nods. "You got a minute?"
I almost say I don't. I could tell him I have to be somewhere. But Ashton has never been anything but decent to me, through everything. Through all the back-and-forth and the drama and the times when taking my side probably cost him something with Declan. I can't lie to his face.
"Yeah," I say. "Sure."
“Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee. I know it’s afternoon coffee time.
I smile. “It is. I was going to go home and make some.”
“Nah. I’ll buy you your favorite.”
“People are talking,” I say.
I don’t have to get specific. He knows.
We order and walk away from the crowded quad.
"He's not sleeping," Ashton says. "Like, at all. Holden says he can hear him at two or three in the morning. Walking around." He looks at the floor, then back at me. "He's not eating much either. Which, if you know Declan, that’s not normal."
I sigh.
"He's skating recklessly. Not out of control, but he’s just all over the ice. He’s skating like he’s twelve and never played before." He pauses and takes a drink. "Like he's not protecting himself the way he normally would. Coach pulled him aside after Tuesday."
Something tightens in my chest. I breathe through it.
"I'm not telling you this so you'll take it back," Ashton says, quickly, like he anticipated the way my expression shifted. "I'm not here to guilt you into anything. You made your call. That's your choice. Your life."
He stops walking and turns to face me. "I get it, actually. I understand why you did it."
"I still love him, Ashton.”
“I know you do, and you know how I feel about the situation. I wish there were a magic solution, but we both know that’s not how life works.”
“Did he get an offer?” I ask quietly.
“Not yet.”
“But you’re confident he will?”
He shrugs. “He kicked ass, Sutton. That was some of the best playing he’s done.”
“He enjoyed it?”
“You want me to say no,” he says quietly.
That tells me everything. “No. I want to know he did love it. You know he’s been on the fence about hockey. But I know, and I know you know, he does love being on the ice.”
He nods slowly. “He loved it, Sutton. It was good for him.”
I blink back tears. I wish he hated it. I would love to hear it was the worst experience of his life, but that wasn’t going to happen.
"I just wanted you to know." He meets my eyes. "He’s in pain. He’s suffering. But I’m guessing you are as well.”
I blink but can’t speak around the lump in my throat.
“I wish things were different for you,” he says. “He’ll be okay. Give it time.”
I force a smile. “That’s the plan.”
“You doing okay?”
I snort because that’s a ridiculous question. “Not even a little.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Invent teleportation.”
He chuckles. “I’m a jock. Been playing hockey since I was three.” He knocks on his head. “Nothing but marbles up here—way too many hits. You’re going to have to find Elon. Convince him.”
I almost laugh. I don’t want to cry. I end up doing both.
Ashton awkwardly hugs me.
It only lasts maybe thirty seconds, but when I look up, I see Bree with her phone out and a shitty grin on her face.
I stiffen. My entire body goes rigid under Ashton's arm. He must feel it because he steps back immediately, turning to see what I'm looking at.
"Put the phone away, Bree," he says, his voice dropping into that captain tone he uses when someone's about to do something monumentally stupid. "It's not what you think."
But Bree looks way too happy. Her smile is the kind that makes my stomach drop. She's still holding her phone up, and I know—I know—she's already got whatever photo or video she wanted. Probably already texting it to someone. Probably to Declan.
It’s definitely on her socials. Anything to drum up drama. She loves good gossip.
"Just comforting the ex-girlfriend?" Bree says, all fake sweetness. "That's so nice of you, Ashton. I'm sure Declan will think it's really sweet, too."
"There's nothing to think about," Ashton says. "Sutton was upset. I gave her a hug. End of story."
"Sure." She tucks her phone into her back pocket, still grinning. "That's exactly what it looked like."
I feel sick. This is the last thing I need. The absolute last thing.
"I have to go," I say quickly, already backing away. I look at Ashton. "You should talk to Declan. Like now. Before she does."
"She’s not going to do shit," Declan says. “Right, Bree?”
Bree winks. “Oh, Ashton, why would I do that?”
She walks away with a very obvious pep in her step.
She’s definitely going to do something.
"I don't want to cause more problems than I already have,” I groan. “This is a disaster.”
"You didn't do anything wrong," Ashton says.
But that doesn't matter. Not to Bree. Not to the rumor mill that's already churning. And definitely not to Declan, who's going to see whatever twisted version of this she decides to show him.
“Talk to him, Ashton. Make sure he knows nothing was happening. I know Declan. When he’s like this, he’s not going to be seeing clearly. I don’t want the two of you fighting over something that isn’t even true.”
“I will. It’ll be fine.”
I turn and walk away before I can do anything else to make this situation worse. My heart is pounding. My hands are shaking.
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. More drama. More hurt. More reasons for Declan to hate me.
I pull out my phone as I walk, my fingers hovering over his name in my contacts. I should text him. I want to warn him. But what would I even say? Hey, Bree probably just sent you a photo that makes it look like I'm hooking up with your best friend, but I swear it's not like that.
I can't. I just can't.
I shove my phone back in my pocket and walk faster, like I can outrun the mess I've made of everything.
It’s too late to transfer to a new school. And Declan isn’t going anywhere.
The next few months are going to be hell.