happened?” Doctor Butler, one of the team doctors, grabs my shoulder and turns me toward the light so he can see me better. My face hurts like a bitch. It already feels swollen. Doctor Butler presses the tender skin carefully, checking for breaks, and I hiss, pulling back out of his grasp.
“Albrooke, what happened? That was Carmichael, correct?” Doctor Butler demands an answer. The man is old enough to be my father, but by looking at him, you wouldn’t know it.
“It was nothing, just a misunderstanding is all.” I shift my gaze down the empty hallway, wishing I knew where he went. Preston panicked. That was clear as day. After he hit me, he looked like a little kid who broke his mom’s favorite lamp and knew an ass kicking was coming his way. Was he abused as a kid? Is he afraid to get caught with a guy because of his parents?
Doctor Butler looks at me like he’s considering what to say to me.
“Let’s get some ice on this eye, I don’t think it’s broken but you’re going to have a nice shiner by morning.”
Grabbing Preston’s dropped gym bag, I avoid the locker room and follow him into the medical room.
“Have a seat.” He motions to one of the chairs along the wall and I sit.
“Are you going to tell Coach?” I ask him as I take the cold pack and turn my gaze away from him.
“That you and Carmichael got into a fist fight?”
I nod and groan when the cold hits my eye. It hurts like a bitch. That dude hits like a hammer.
“No, I won’t tell him, but everyone is going to see the bruise and it may be swollen shut tomorrow.” He motions to my face. “You better come up with a convincing story if you don’t want him to know the truth.”
“And what would be a convincing story?”
“Not running into doorknobs.” He grins at me. “Perhaps someone threw a water bottle at you, and you failed to catch it.”
“That’s bringing another person in on the story, that’s going to get dicey.” The cold seeps into my skin, dulling some of the ache.
“It doesn’t have to be someone you know, just make it believable.” The older man in his school polo and khakis looks at me like I’m an idiot.
“Oh, that makes sense.” He sighs and shakes his head at me.
“If Preston needs help, let me know. You all have my after-hours number. Use it.” The older man holds my gaze, seriousness in his eyes. What does he know that I don’t?
“Yeah, of course.”
I sit for a few more minutes before Doctor Butler has me remove the ice pack to take a look.
“I’ll give you some ibuprofen for pain and to help with the swelling, ice packs throughout the day will help too.”
I nod and accept the meds he gives me, taking one at his insistence before sneaking out of the rink. It’s getting cold, so I can use the hood on my sweatshirt to hide my face some. I’m not embarrassed by it, but I don’t want questions before I can come up with a story.
By some miracle, I make it to my dorm with no one stopping me. The room is dark when I step inside and close the door behind me. My heart sinks when I realize Preston isn’t here. I was hoping he would come here and we could talk it out, even though I know that goes against everything he believes in. Preston doesn’t talk about his feelings. He belittles and pushes until you snap.
That moment of pure panic in his eyes has all my protective instincts demanding he talk to me though. I want to fight for him, but I don’t know what demons he has. No one should be that afraid of a kiss. Preston is an asshole ninety percent of the time but the more I’m around him, the more I see cracks in that armor. No one deserves to be afraid like that.
I pull off the base layer I’m still wearing from practice and head into the bathroom to shower. The sweat and frustration of the day clings to me along with the lust that filled my veins when Preston was pressed against me.
Shaking off the memory, I get the water set to boiling and step in, the heat pounding into my sore muscles, forcing my body to relax even if my mind won’t quiet.
Should I go look for Preston?
I have no idea where he might have gone. Or how long he’ll be gone. Does he have his phone in case he needs a ride? Did he have shoes on? We were getting changed but he was still in his hockey shit.
I scrub my body quickly and get out of the shower, drying my hair and wrapping the towel around my waist.
Digging in my hoodie for my phone, I pull up my team group messages and find Carmichael’s number.
Albrooke: hey, are you okay?
The symbol on the screen says the message has been sent and delivered but not opened.
I get dressed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, and drop down onto my bed.
Am I pissed he punched me? Yes.
Am I going to have to fake that I’m not? Also, yes.
Maybe I should sleep in Paul and Brendon’s room for a few days.
I should look for him.
Grabbing my shoes, a hoodie, and a ball cap, I leave the room and head down to the gym. Last time he ran after touching me, that’s where he ended up. As I open the dorm door, one of my teammates sees me and starts to give me a chin up nod but stops when he sees my swollen eye. The bulky man in a t-shirt pulled tight across his chest and jeans, long chestnut hair pulled back in a small ponytail, turns to give me his full attention. Bryce is a sophomore this year and on the second line.
“Dude, what happened to you?”
For a second, my mind blanks. I stare at him but don’t see him. Then Doctor Butler’s story comes pouring out of my mouth.
“Dumbasses down the hall were throwing water bottles and I caught one in the face.” Did that sound convincing?
“Damn, that sucks.” He takes the story at face value. Sometimes jocks are dumb and we all know it. “I’m heading to the cafeteria, you want to join me?”
I guess it is dinner time, it makes sense that he would assume I’m going there too.
“No thanks, I’m not heading to dinner yet.”
He shrugs and heads toward the elevator. I go the opposite way and take the stairs down, just so I don’t have to be trapped in the elevator.
The walk to the gym is quick but there’s no one in there. The locker room is empty too, same with the ice rink. Frustrated, I head back to the dorms. If he’s not back in an hour or two, I’ll call Coach and let him worry about it.
In my room with nothing better to do, I dig out a text book and do some homework. I haven’t finished reading the first question when my phone buzzes with an incoming call.
The screen shows my brother Keith, but it’s probably both him and Jordan.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” I smile at my teenage brother. Keith and Jordan are fraternal but look enough alike that people get them mixed up all the time. “Why do you have Keith’s phone?”
“How can you always tell?” Jordan bitches while Keith laughs in the background.
“You always look like you’re getting into something, because you normally are.”
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at me. “Whatever.”
“Did you call for a reason? Girl trouble? Boy trouble? Need your big brother to beat someone up for you?” Keith laughs again and Jordan scowls.
“Just because you can’t find yourself a boyfriend doesn’t mean the rest of us have relationship issues.” Jordan retorts.
“I don’t want a boyfriend, but I get by just fine, thank you very much.” Preston and Brendon flash in my head but I don’t mention them.
“And how could you help with girl problems? You’ve never dated one.” Keith scoffs.
“Just because I’ve never dated one doesn’t mean I’ve never talked to one or don’t have friends. Trust me, I have a much better understanding of them than your hormone-addled brain.”
“Should we ask what happened to your face?” Jordan asks and Keith appears on the screen to take a look.
“Damn, that looks like it hurts.” Keith adds.
My stomach tightens but I push away the memory of Preston pressing me against the wall.
“It didn’t tickle.” I shrug at my brothers. “Hockey injury, shit happens.”
Keith returns to his video game and Jordan starts talking about a school dance that’s coming up when the dorm room door opens to a sweaty, red-faced Preston.
“Hey guys, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” I cut him off and end the call.
Preston closes the door and sags against it, damn near gasping for breath.
I put my stuff aside and stand up. He watches me like a scared animal.
“You okay?” I scan his body and notice his lack of shoes. His feet are dirty and look like they may be bleeding.
“I’m fine.” He pushes off the door and opens his dresser drawers, grabbing some clothes, then disappears into the bathroom. The click of the lock engaging frustrates me more than it probably should. My hand clenches into a fist then relaxes over and over while I try to calm my breathing. I’m fucking pissed.
He has the nerve to kiss me, punch me, then bounce, and now I’m not good enough to talk to? What the fuck is his problem?
“You aren’t fine!” I holler at the door.
“Fuck off!” His snap feels like a slap in the face. I was worried about this asshole for nothing. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. I have a swollen fucking eye because he didn’t want to get caught kissing me. Fuck him.
I grab the shit I’ll need for the next few days and shove it in a bag, then head down to Paul and Brendon’s room. I’m not dealing with his ass.
I knock on the door and Paul opens it then stops when he sees my bag. “Where ya going?”
“I’m sleeping here for a few days. Fuck Carmichael and all his bullshit.” I throw my stuff on the ground between the twin beds. Brendon sits up and pulls his headphones off his head.
“What’s going on?” he asks as I pace their room, shoving my hand through my hair.
“Carmichael is a fucking dick. I’m over his bullshit.”
“He what happened to your face?” Paul crosses his arms over his chest and leans against his dresser, watching me pace.
“Oh yeah. That. This fucker pushes me all practice, right? Riding my ass for stupid shit, then he grabs me in the hallway and kisses the fuck out of me! Then. Then! He punches me in the face and takes off!” I spin around when I reach the wall and pace back, working myself up into seriously pissed off. “I was worried about him. You believe that? So, I went looking for him. Nothing.”
“Wait, he kissed you?” Brendon questions. From the corner of my eye, I see Paul give Brendon a weird look and shake his head.
“He finally shows back up at the room and tells me to fuck off when I ask if he’s okay!” Anger pumps through me, tightening my shoulders and clenching my fists. “You believe that?”
“What are you gonna do? You going to tell Coach?” Paul moves from the dresser to sit on his bed.
“I don’t know. I should. Fuck him. But I don’t want to be labeled as a problem, you know?” I stop my pacing, hands on my hips, and drop my head back on my shoulders to breathe.
“Did you want him to kiss you?” Brendon asks.
“Really? That’s all you got out of what I just said?” I huff, exasperated.
“That’s not really the point of this story, dude.” Paul leans to one side so he can look at Brendon, who’s behind me.
Despite how much I wanted that kiss, I’m not telling Brendon that. Why does this have to be so damn complicated?
Paul stands and claps me on the shoulder. “You can sleep in here. It’s cool, man.”
I nod and sigh. What a mess this year is turning into. Freshman year was supposed to be crazy and fun, but it’s turned into a cluster fuck.
