Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“It did have a note on it, though,” Weston tells me. “A note that I think might be directed at you, Niko.”
“Let me see it.”
Weston hands me a small piece of lined paper.
And as I read it, I know instantly that it’s aimed at me.
Think of my face next time he fucks you. Congrats on joining Crimson.
It’s easily recognizable as Callum’s cursive handwriting.
He put a fucking skeleton on the porch.
Like a fucking prank you’d expect to see from a fourteen-year-old.
I set my jaw. “This is from my ex. I’m sorry you had to see this.”
“No biggie,” Weston says. “That’s nothing compared to the earlier attacks. We were glad it was only that.”
Weston is trying to reassure me that it isn’t a big deal.
But he’s fucking wrong.
He doesn't even realize how wrong he is.
I pull Oliver a little closer in my arm, draping him in my warmth like I’ve suddenly been tasked with protecting a helpless duckling.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?
I’ve never gotten along with Ollie, but I’ll fucking die before I let Callum do anything to scare him.
Oliver is strong and could protect himself.
Maybe.
Probably.
But my instincts flare up into overdrive as I crush the paper note in my fist.
I silently assess the situation in my mind. Bayville is my hometown and the place where Callum owns a mini-mansion, and it’s over 90 minutes away from the Crimson College campus. That means that Callum made the effort to drive all the way here just to leave me this stupid note.
To send a message.
“Someone a little jealous, Niko?” Roman asks.
“My ex isn’t happy that I left.”
“Brutal. Seems like you’re quite the heartbreaker,” Weston says. “Come on inside. We were about to play some pool.”
I follow them in, sliding my hand lower on Ollie’s back and keeping my palm against him.
Part of me expects him to pull away from my touch, but he lets me keep my hand there at the small of his back as we head in.
When I finally drop my hand away, he turns to give me a look like I’m depriving him.
You’re killing me, Ashford.
“Just a second,” I tell him softly, holding up a finger.
The fireplace is burning steadily at the far wall of the front room. I crumple up Callum’s note and watch the flames instantly take it, forming tiny orange sparks in the air above.
It’s where that relationship belongs.
Burned into ash.
I head back down the hall toward one of the rear rooms where the pool tables are. A few of the guys are cracking open beers, joking and chatting as Oliver leans against a wall with his arms crossed.
He’s staring into the middle distance, clearly still rattled by what happened.
I never paid enough attention to this version of Oliver before.
Out on the ice with me, he always rose to my challenge. He was combative to me when I brought a fight to him.
But this version of him…
He actually does seem sweet.
Like a lost little lamb, embarrassed that he made a big deal out of the note. That’s what Callum does to people. Makes them question their own sanity, manipulating them into thinking they’re the one doing something wrong.
And I’m not going to let that happen to anyone else.
“Ollie. Come with me,” I say as I walk in the room before turning to the other guys. “I’ll join in for pool another time and kick all of your asses. Need to take care of something with Oliver first.”
“Everything okay?” Weston asks.
“Absolutely. See you guys later.”
I walk behind Oliver and put my hand to his back again, guiding him out of the room before anybody else can question us.
“Niko, I’m fine, really—”
“Get your jacket. Let’s go.”
He blinks at me. “And where exactly are we going?”
“You’ll find out once you’re in your jacket and boots and we’re outside. Go.”
I head off toward the front door and push through it.
A minute later he comes out.
He’s wearing a nice tan-colored long winter coat and a red plaid scarf. His hair is a little messy, and his golden highlights stand out against the light brown.
“Fuck, you look good,” I say, not bothering to filter my thoughts. “Do you realize how hot you are?”
“Never. I feel like an idiot. But thanks.”
A few snowflakes fall onto the shoulders of his coat as he shuts the front door.
He’s illuminated by the lanterns on either side of the front door, and when I look down at the snow-covered stone steps, I see a perfect opportunity.
I pull out my phone, open the camera, and snap a picture.
It’s a shot of both of our boots in the snow.
Subtle.
But it very clearly depicts me with another guy, out on a snowy night with each other.
I post it online, because Callum deserves to see that his little prank meant nothing to us.
I hold out my hand. Ollie gives it a glance and then looks back up to meet my eyes.