Page 65 of Offside Angel

“Yes,” she insists, crossing her arms, “you do. And sweaty. I think I know why.”

How can she know? I’m not even sure I know.

Maybe this was a random prank… that looks like blood… that someone pulled only on me. It’s probably a social media trend to recreate crime scenes out of condiments.

But how did they know my locker code? How did he find me?

Taylor nods. “Oh, yeah. I see the truth written all over your face. It’s the guilt. It’s eating you alive.”

“What?” The word squeaks out of my dry throat.

“You feel guilty for betraying your best friend.” Taylor slings an arm over my shoulders. “But it’s okay. You can make it up to me. I’ll let you tell Jordan that I was stopping to get the latte for you, which is why I was almost late.”

The sigh of relief I release is audible. It transitions to a choked laugh. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

She doesn’t know.

No one needs to know.

I don’t know for sure what even happened. This is probably nothing.

Taylor turns around and frowns. “Why are your gloves in the sink? And sopping wet?”

I scramble for an excuse, something that means my life isn’t falling apart and my brother isn’t breathing down my neck. Anything that means Taylor won’t think twice about what’s happening here. Because she’ll tell Evan, who will tell Zane, who will throw the life he has earned and worked hard for overboard at the slimmest chance to save mine.

Despite what Zane promised, I know he’ll sacrifice everything to keep me safe.

I can’t let anyone go down with me.

“There was a spider,” I blurt. “A big one. I drowned it.”

Taylor looks from me to the gloves and back again slowly. Finally, she wrinkles her nose. “You should’ve killed it with fire. That’s the only way to deal with spiders.”

24

ZANE

It is absolute carnage. Everywhere I look, sheer carnage.

Kids are skidding across the ice on everything except their skates—knees, butts, the occasional face. People should sign waivers before they step out here. This rink is an insurance nightmare.

“I’m doing it!” Aiden calls, clumsily stomping in his skates across the ice. “I’m skating!”

That’s a generous way of putting it, for sure. But he isn’t face-planting on the ice like the girl in the sparkly unicorn helmet behind him, or clinging to the boards and screaming for help like the twins in matching velour jumpsuits, so I give it to him.

“You’re doing amazing, bud!”

The dad of the twins tosses a longing look towards Aiden before he goes back to convincing his little gremlins to let go of the wall.

Aiden grins. “Can Mira see me? Is she watching?”

I can tell he wants to look into the stands to check, but he learned very quickly that, where his head goes, the rest of his body follows. If he turns his head, he’ll end up on his ass.

I look for him. Mira is sitting in the middle of the stands, a white bobble hat pulled down over her ears, her dark hair in long braids. She smiles when she catches me looking, and the gooey warmth that fills my chest is lowkey embarrassing.

“Yeah, she can see you. She says you’re doing great, too.”

Aiden lowers his head and tries to skate faster. I can tell it’s taking every bit of his concentration because his tongue is sticking out the side of his mouth and his face is all squished up.

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