Wildcard a westbrook eli.., p.24
Wildcard : A Westbrook Elite Standalone, page 24
He nodded. “That’s because I make you sit in that bucket seat over there.”
My snickering was rudely interrupted by a sharp knock on the window. Stiffening, Jason pulled me closer into his lap while he turned.
Ryan stood on the other side of the glass, bent down and trying to peer into the tint.
Jason unlatched the door enough to crack it. “Did you seriously just smack your knuckles into my window?”
Instead of bickering back like he usually did, Ryan straightened and stepped back. “There’s something you need to see.”
If Jason was stiff before, he was full-on rigid now, palming my waist to push me back toward my seat. “Put your shoes on.”
I scrambled to do it, worrying about what could be going on, and grabbed my bag to clamber out the passenger door. Jason met me around the back where Ryan, Jamie, and Lars were also standing.
“What’s going on?” I asked the group.
Lars held a sheet of paper toward Jason. “This was taped on the door when we got here.”
“Actually, bro, there are a lot of them taped around,” Jamie said, voice somber.
Oddly, it was his mellow tone that made it perfectly clear that whatever was going on was awful.
Jason took the paper Lars offered and glanced down at it. The muscle in his jaw clenched, and his tongue ran over his front teeth. The sound of it crumpling under his fist seemed loud. “This all over the pool, you said?”
“Mostly the locker room,” Ryan put in.
I stepped close to Jay, reaching for the paper in his fist. “Can I see?”
His grip loosened, and I tugged the paper away to smooth it out and look down. It was a photo. Jason standing on the beach with a girl with long tawny-colored hair and a flowery dress. I exhaled, knowing instantly who this was. What this was.
It was Brynne. And judging from the dark look on Jason’s face in the photo and the way he sort of towered over her as she stared up at him with a stubborn tilt to her chin, they were arguing.
I glanced up, catching Jason’s gaze. “Is this from that night?”
He nodded, saying nothing. I knew just by the shuttered look in his eyes that he was back on that beach, likely reliving and regretting it for the millionth time.
Ryan cleared his throat. “There’s more in the locker room.”
I swung toward him, angry. “Why didn’t you just take them all down?” Jason shouldn’t have to see this. “Throw them in the trash where they belong.”
“There’s more than the photo,” Ryan replied, his voice even, not offended by my ire.
Jason jerked up, body rotating toward the natatorium. Trepidation rolled off him, along with a mix of other emotions that all blended, creating a heavy black storm cloud over his head.
Resolve hardened his features, and he started forward, the keys to his Corvette jingling between his fingers. I rushed to catch up, curling my hand around his.
He paused to glance down, dragging his eyes up to meet mine. “You sure about this?” About me?
I heard the unspoken question. I saw it deep in his guarded eyes.
“So sure.”
He started forward again, his fingers gripping mine like a lifeline. I thought about how he said I lured him out of the chaos. How I kept it from sweeping him away. I hoped I was enough right now, enough to keep whatever was waiting inside from pulling him under.
25
Rush
No one asked. No one said a single damn word. That’s how I knew it must be bad. Like it didn’t even matter what explanation I could give; it just wouldn’t be enough. They just stood there waiting. Staring. A firing squad awaiting their next victim.
And now here we were, the blacktop crunching underfoot as the sun rose, bringing with it a brand-new day as Ryan, Jamie, and Lars basically escorted me into what felt like the end.
I told myself I hadn’t gotten attached to anything here. To anyone. I told myself I was here to get in and get out. Get my econ degree and swim. I vowed to not let anyone in.
So why did my feet feel heavy? Why was the knot sitting in my chest making it so damn hard to breathe? Why did I suddenly care what any of these people thought of me? I didn’t like any of them, so why did it matter if they liked me?
You do like them.
I stopped abruptly, my stomach burning as if it were filled with acid. Everyone else halted too, and I pulled my hand from Landry’s to swing around aggressively, but it wasn’t them I was mad at. It was me.
“I want to talk to Lars.”
“We’ll be in the locker room,” Ryan said, him and Jamie going ahead of us.
Landry shifted, her touch tentative against my hand. “You want me to stay?”
I shook my head. This was something I needed to do on my own. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “No. But thanks, baby.”
When she was gone, I looked at Lars. The guy who called me his best friend. His kidney. “I should have told you sooner…” I started.
He shook his head. The tips of his ears were red from the cold. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I think maybe I do,” I said. “You were my friend even when you shouldn’t have been. I should have told you who you were rooming with.”
“You did tell me.”
I shook my head. “No. I lied.” I didn’t tell you that you were sleeping beside a killer every night.
He cocked his head to the side, light eyes piercing me like glass. “So the times you let me use the shower first, drove me back and forth to practice in your Corvette, and ate with me instead of the rest of the team were lies?”
I felt my face scrunch up. “What? No. That’s not what I mean.”
“What about the times you helped me understand my assignments in classes you don’t even take because I was having trouble with English? Those times you knew I slept like shit from nightmares and you got up and brewed espresso? You never asked me about those nightmares. You never pushed. You were just there.”
That knot in my chest was getting tighter. So tight my throat was starting to ache. “This is different.”
“What about when you helped me with the cops?”
“All I did was embellish a little. I owed you that after letting that scum in our room.”
“You didn’t know,” he refuted.
He’s standing here and defending me.
“That’s not an excuse!” I bit out.
“Okay, but when you did know, you chased down that scum soaking wet and in nothing but Speedos in the middle of winter, beat his ass, and then dragged him back so he could be arrested.”
I growled just thinking of the day that asshole showed his face. “He shouldn’t have put his hands on you.”
Lars smiled. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Rush. You might not have told me about your past, but your actions showed me who you are.”
“That photo?” I said, stabbing my hand toward something that wasn’t even there. “That girl? She’s dead,” I said, harsh. “That was the night she died. We were arguing on the beach, and then she turned up dead.”
“And everyone blamed you,” he surmised.
Why wasn’t he shocked? Why wasn’t he scandalized?
“Yeah, and the only reason I’m not rotting in a cell is because my parents are loaded and got me the best defense attorney in the country.”
“That’s not why you aren’t in jail.”
I made a strangled sound. “Yeah? Then why?”
“Because you didn’t do it.”
I snapped back as if he’d smacked me. The deep breath I sucked in stung my lungs. He sounded just like my little siren. So sure. “Maybe I did.”
He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe I deserved the beatings my ex gave me.”
Pissed, I lunged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. A brief flare of panic shot in his eyes like lightning, but then it was gone and he was calm.
“Shit,” I spat, releasing him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”
“It’s okay,” he allowed.
“No, it’s fucking not,” I argued. “You have fucking PTSD from that assbag beating you, and the last thing you need is me coming at you like that.”
“You aren’t him. And I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.” I scowled. “But if I ever hear you say you deserved those beatings again, I’ll tell Win,” I threatened.
Lars grimaced. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Fucking try me,” I vowed. Win would turn feral if he heard Lars blaming himself for being abused. “You did not deserve any of that.”
I should have fucking punched that boyfriend-beater more when I had my hands on him.
“Some people said I did.” His voice was quiet. “And some people didn’t believe me at all.”
I glanced up at him, slowly realizing what he was doing. “Lars,” I warned, but he didn’t listen. He was just as bratty as Landry. Clearly, I had a type.
His pale eyes gleamed. “You know something about that, don’t you? People not believing you. Being blamed for shit that isn’t your fault.”
I made a sound. I wanted to tell him this was completely different. That we were not the same. The words were right there but held hostage by my constricted throat.
“We both ran here, didn’t we? Neither of us was too interested in being friends with anyone, having been betrayed too much in the past. Our stories are different. Our circumstances. But we landed in the same place. You didn’t ask about my past. I didn’t ask about yours. We had an unspoken agreement there I think. A bond we didn’t acknowledge, but it’s there.”
“Lars.” I choked again, still trying to speak.
“If you want to tell me about all the shit that happened in California, I want to listen. But our friendship isn’t conditional on it. You already showed me who you are. Your vibes have never lied to me, Rush.”
“I’m coming over there,” I warned.
He half smiled and raised his arms.
I pulled him in, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and hugged him tight. He hesitated a fraction of a second before his arms anchored around my waist to hug me back. I smiled over his shoulder, the tightness in my chest receding enough so I could pull in a deep breath.
“I think you just talked more in the last five minutes than the entire time I’ve known you,” I teased, not quite ready to let go.
Is this what infallible friendship feels like?
I didn’t care if anyone saw us. If anyone thought it was weird for two men to hug like this. They could take a long walk off a short pier. He was the first friend—the only friend—to ever give me the benefit of the doubt.
Lars made a rude sound. “Some things just have to be said.”
I smiled again. My bestie was a quiet guy. The quietest on the team. Well, except for maybe Prism. But his silence was a benefit because he listened and watched more than most. That’s why his friendship meant so much, because I knew he really looked at me. We met during a shit time in my life. When I was angry and closed off, when he had every reason to mistrust everyone. But he still saw someone of value. Someone he wanted to be his friend.
Finally, I pulled back and found myself cautioning him. “Seriously, though, Lars. My past is dark. I wasn’t charged with murder, but I was arrested. And everyone thinks I’m guilty.” I wondered if there would ever come a time that I didn’t feel the urge to warn people about being in my life.
“I know,” he replied simply, not a hint of doubt in his tone.
As I said, Lars was quiet. He played things close to his chest. But this was almost too calm. I mean, we were talking about murder.
“You already knew,” I stated.
He nodded once. “We all do.”
I sucked in a breath, pointing to the doors. “All of Elite knows about me?”
He nodded.
“Fuck,” I spat. “How bad is it in there?” I asked, wanting to know what I should be ready for.
“Let’s go in,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder and going ahead to the door.
I hesitated. “Hey.”
He stopped and turned.
“You saw everything in there already?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
I rubbed the back of my neck, avoiding his eyes. “And you still want me to be your kidney?”
“You and Win really like being organs,” Lars mused. “It’s kinda weird.”
“I’m not the one that called my best friend a kidney,” I countered.
“Touché.” But then he frowned. “I’m not your kidney?”
Some of the nerves coiling inside me took a back seat to amusement. Flashing a fast smile, I teased, “Who wants to be an organ now?”
Lars muttered something in Swedish and pulled open the door.
“Yeah, Lars, you’re my kidney,” I told his back.
He glanced over his shoulder, a smile pulling up the corners of his lips. “You’re still mine too.”
A little flutter tingled my stomach. It felt a little like happiness. And that feeling scared me because I knew how hard it was when happiness was ripped away.
“Everything all good?” Landry asked when we stepped inside.
“You were waiting for me?” I asked, going to slip my arm around her waist and tug her into my side.
“No. I was waiting for Lars. I like his hair.”
My lips fell open. Beside me, Lars laughed. I gave him a look. “I’ll shave it all off, bro.”
Landry gasped. “That’s a crime!” Then, “I wish my hair was that blond.”
Was she really pouting about her hair right now? Ridiculous.
Like she really isn’t worried about what we’re about to walk into.
Maybe not ridiculous, then.
“Go ahead. You can deal with Win,” Lars mused, sauntering ahead of us.
“I could take him,” I avowed, wondering if I actually could. I told you Win was feral when it came to Lars, and I knew he had a weak spot for that halo on my bro’s Swedish head.
Landry reached for my hand, tangling our fingers. “Of course I was waiting for you, Jay,” she told me quietly.
I love you, my heart whispered while I nuzzled her hair and kissed the side of her head.
As we walked toward the locker room, my head swiveled, expecting to see more of the photo plastered around.
“We took them all down out here,” Lars informed me. His voice dropped when I pulled open the heavy locker room door. “But not in here.”
I went first, wanting to get it over with and maybe wanting to shield the two people who’d stuck by me the most. It didn’t matter that Lars had already seen. I still had the urge.
The voices on the other side of the lockers quieted when we stepped in, turning into whispers that faded into expectant silence.
The back of my neck prickled, and a heavy sense of foreboding hit me in the gut. The photo was taped up everywhere. Fluttering against the end of each locker row, taped three times to the back of the door. There were several on the walls, one on the doorframe. Even one taped over the emergency alarm.
I tried to avoid the image itself, just noting where they all hung. It was hard not to be drawn in, though, not to see Brynne.
My feet shuffled, and I turned into the row of lockers where mine was located, steps stalling when I saw all of Elite crowded around. The photo papered the bench and was stuck to every locker door.
I felt the weighty stares of every swimmer, the way they all measured and judged me. It doesn’t matter, I told myself. But the truth was it fucking did.
I fucking cared. No matter how much I tried not to, I did. I avoided their looks, the way they shifted as I walked farther into the row. My locker was toward the end, and I noticed Ryan, Jamie, Wes, Kruger, and Prism were all hovering in front of it.
My instinct was to drop my gaze and look at the floor, but the instant I realized what I was doing, indignation straightened my backbone.
Fuck. This.
Fuck them.
I’d been here before. I survived it then, and I would again. These elitist fish couldn’t do anything to me that hadn’t been done before. I was stronger than that. Than them.
I obstinately refused to back down. To act like I was the one in the wrong. I wasn’t. It seemed more important than ever that I defend myself—or at the very least, hold my head high.
It wasn’t just for me anymore but for Landry. For Lars. For the people who believed in me.
I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and turned my gaze to stone. Life might have dealt me a shitty hand, but I was a fucking wildcard. Time to start acting like it.
“Walsh,” I said, meeting his gaze straight on and not backing down. The fastest way to let everyone know where I stood was to make it clear with their alpha. “You’re in my way.”
Ryan stepped forward, and I tensed, expecting a confrontation. But he moved to the side, and everyone else standing there shifted with him.
The breath dashed out of me in one hard punch, my lungs deflating like an old balloon. I stared at what their bodies had been hiding, feeling the room tilt.
My locker wasn’t just plastered with the photo of me arguing with Brynne. It was also spray-painted with blood-red letters.
Killer
The paint was crude, the letters themselves dripping like they were bleeding. My heart hammered in my chest, so hard I had to put in effort not to reach up and clutch it. I swallowed, eyes still locked on the accusation. At the label I would likely never be able to outrun.
Jamie leaned forward and grabbed the handle on the door, and I noticed for the first time the lock I’d been using was gone. He gave me a look almost as if he was telling me to brace myself and then silently swung it open.
There was no bracing myself for what was inside, though. No way to guard my heart.
The silver goggles I loved so much dangled from the top shelf. In pieces. Swaying like they weren’t quite over being cut up and defiled. The normally shiny frames that glinted in the water were splattered with more of that red paint. Stained with blood.
A flashback of a smiling and alive Brynne handing me a box with a giant blue bow assaulted me. I made a sound at the way she smiled. How happy she’d been to hand me that gift.
