Chapter 23 – Trace #2
"Trev, I wasn't trying to be you in hockey.
I was trying to be Dad." The words came out quieter than I expected.
Raw. Like I was handing him a weapon and hoping he wouldn't use it.
"If anything, I just wanted Dad to look at me with the same kind of pride he looked at you.
I think him and Mom were worried that he put too much pressure on you.
So he put a lot less pressure on me. Which made me just want more attention.
" I ran my hand through my hair. It came away bloody.
"It was never about you. I just wanted Dad to see me. "
Trevor went still. The anger on his face shifted. Not gone, but rearranging itself around something that looked almost like recognition. Like he'd never considered that version of the story before.
"And as for Lena," I said, "what you did was a dick move. You knew I wanted her. And you took her because you could. But then you didn't even treat her well. You never wanted her for real."
A breeze cut through the quad, carrying the smell of damp leaves and that clean October bite that meant the season was turning.
The oaks lining the walkway had gone amber and rust, and a handful of leaves scraped across the concrete between our feet.
Somewhere above us, a window slid shut. Maybe hers.
The thought made my ribs ache worse than the actual damage.
This was about Lena. About the way she made me feel like I was more than just a Coulter, more than just another hockey player trading on his family name. With her, I wasn't Fox Coulter's son or Trevor Coulter's brother. I was just Trace. And somehow, that had been enough for her.
Until you fucked it up.
He shrugged, but the shrug was smaller now. Less defiant. "Lena Hartwell is beautiful. Yeah, I took her because you wanted her." He had the decency to look away when he said it, his gaze drifting toward the dented Range Rover. "But I guess you found a way to have her anyway."
Have her. Jesus Christ, he still doesn't get it.
I leaned forward, forearms on my knees, and ticked it off on my bloody fingers.
"You take hockey for granted. You run around here like your balls are gonna spontaneously combust if you don't fuck every puck bunny you see.
You're so focused on anything but the game that you took Lena for granted.
It was like a game to you. You don't fucking think about how your actions have consequences for everyone else around you. "
I took a breath and my ribs punished me for it.
"Should I have told you about Lena? Yes.
Would you have tried to pull some bullshit like 'I have dibs, you can't touch her'?
Also yes. The way I figured it, you got me into this mess, so I didn't have to tell you.
But I still tried, and you were still an ass. "
The memory of her face when Trevor called her a whore made my hands clench. The way she'd flinched like the word was a physical blow.
Trevor picked at a spot of dried blood on his knuckles. "If I'm such a dick, why do you bother?"
I looked at my brother. Blood on his face, his eye swelling purple, his shirt ruined.
We'd been doing this our whole lives. Competing, fighting, making up, doing it all over again.
But this time was different. This time, someone else had gotten caught in the crossfire. Someone who didn't deserve it.
"Because you're my idiot brother. I love you." The words came out flat. Tired. "But I'm not obligated to clean up your shit. If you insist on making messes, that's on you. Go make them where they're not going to impact anyone. Especially not Lena. Jesus."
Lena. Everything comes back to Lena.
Her mother. Who'd held both our hands and said thank you for making my baby smile again.
The thought hit me so hard I had to drop my head between my knees. I stared at the drops of blood between my shoes, my blood, Trevor's blood, mixed together on the concrete, same as it always was. We were brothers. We'd survive this.
But Lena might not survive me. And that was the part I couldn't live with.
Trevor was quiet for a long moment. The anger was still there, I could see it in the set of his shoulders, the way his jaw worked, but the explosive rage had burned off. That was Trevor. Violent detonation, then calm.
He lowered himself onto the step next to me, not close but not at the other end either, and rested his elbows on his knees in a mirror of my posture.
We both stared at the parking lot. The dented Range Rover, a campus shuttle rolling past, two girls on the far sidewalk glancing our way and walking faster.
"So you're fucking for real? You guys are a thing?" He said it to the parking lot, not to me.
Were. Past tense.
"Yeah. At least we were, until you crashed in here like a goddamn bull." I touched my split lip and winced. "Now I have the distinct impression she isn't speaking to me."
Trevor tilted his head without looking over. "Because of me?"
"Because I lied." Saying it out loud made it real.
Made it worse. "I told her I'd handle you.
That you'd deal with it. She asked me, point blank, and I said it was taken care of.
" I shook my head. "She doesn't do that, Trev.
Men who tell her everything's fine when it isn't. Her dad did that. Matt did that. And now me."
You didn't just let it slide. You broke her trust. And for someone like Lena, that's the one thing you can't take back.
Trevor was quiet again. Processing. I could practically hear the gears turning behind his busted face. When he spoke, his voice was different. Lower, less combative. "How mad? Like, you're super into her."
It wasn't a question. But I answered it anyway.
"Yeah." My voice cracked and I didn't even care.
"I am. I'm so into her it's fucking terrifying, Trev.
She's the best person I've ever known and I lied to her face and now she's up there", I pointed at the dorm building behind us, "thinking she can't trust me.
Thinking I'm just like every other guy who let her down. "
I dropped my hand. Stared at the blood drying on my knuckles. Thought about those same hands holding her face in the hotel suite this morning. Thought about the way she'd leaned into my palm like it was the safest place in the world.
She trusted you with her body. With her mother. With the thing that hurt her most. And you couldn't even give her the truth.
Trevor looked at me. Really looked at me.
And for once, the competitive bullshit and the ego and the older brother posturing fell away, and I saw something that might have been guilt.
Or maybe it was just the beginning of understanding.
He'd never seen me like this. Bleeding on the steps of a dorm, voice cracking over a girl, admitting out loud that I was terrified of losing someone.
This wasn't the little brother who chased his records and stole his spotlight.
This was just a guy who'd found the person he was supposed to be with and fucked it up before it even started.
"And now you're going to help me fix this," I said, stepping closer. "Because I'm not losing her."