Page 45 of Cruel Steps

I didn’t wait for his response and headed to the counter to amend our order. The cashier boxed everything up and handed it over in two bags. I handed Holden his, and we walked out in silence. I climbed into his truck, neither of us speaking during the five-minute drive to the apartment—the one we were meant to share. I didn’t know what to do if Holden didn’t figure something out. Everything I made went toward my living expenses and school. There was nothing extra.

I had a football scholarship, but it only covered tuition. Work study covered books and the meal plan, leaving a little left over for gas. Without my job, I couldn’t afford anything else without taking out student loans. But it wasn’t enough to cover housing for a year on my own.

My parents could help, but I refused to take anything from them. They were horrible, and the minute I could separate myself from them, I had. I knew Holden wasn’t rich like most of Hayward, but he’d said his mom had gotten approval to use his housing stipend for the off-campus apartments. So, for the plan to fall through, it felt suspicious.

Holden said he’d figure something out, but I wasn’t sure what he could do outside of getting a job. Considering it would take away from his ‘football-only’ motto, I didn’t see that happening. It was a clusterfuck, and I wasn’t sure how to solve it.

Holden parked, and he grabbed the bags of food while I grabbed my bookbag and football gear. Despite not talking, we moved in sync and anticipated one another’s steps. It was what made us work on the field.

Unlocking the door, I pushed it open and turned on the lights. He sat the food on the coffee table and I grabbed water from the fridge and joined him on the secondhand couch we’d gotten. We opened our food, the silence growing, and I debated waiting him out or pressing him. Burrito held to my mouth, Holden made the decision for me.

“I can’t believe you’re pussy-whipped by her.”

Okay, so Holden had chosen violence today. Didn’t think I’d ever punch my best friend, but here we were.

Lowering my burrito, this time I was the one narrowing my eyes at my best friend.

“It’s only because you’re my best friend I’m not punching you right now. I don’t know what your beef with Mer is, but you won’t disrespect her. You’re better than that, Hol.”

Holden gritted his teeth, but I caught the slightest shift of remorse in his eyes. I took a bite, needing to eat before I really bit his head off. Swallowing, I wiped my mouth and took a swig of water.

“Now, are we going to talk about what is really going on, or are you going to keep your head buried?”

Holden glared, his jaw ticking as he continued to grind his molars. I chuckled, and he flared his nostrils. If I were any other person, I’d be scared shitless. Good thing I wasn’t just anyone. I picked my burrito back up and took another bite, savoring the spicy meat and sauce, and made an over-the-top moan.

“I can wait all day.”

Holden’s stare intensified, but he eventually picked up his burrito and ate. With each bite, his shoulders relaxed and his anger dissipated as he satisfied his appetite. When all the food was demolished, I wiped my mouth and tossed the napkin into the bag. Turning on the couch, I rested one leg on the cushion and waited for him to fold.

Holden could hold a grudge, and his stubbornness was next level. Most people ran away at his intense glare, but we didn’t work that way. Early on in our friendship, I learned that he’d always push, expecting people to leave, and I always stayed, hoping to prove I was worthy—our messed up childhoods at their finest.

“I met her before camp,” he grumbled, the words forced and clipped. I lifted a brow in surprise and encouraged him to continue. Holden sighed, turned on the couch to mirror my position, and leaned his elbow on the cushion to prop his head up. “I saw her dancing and couldn’t take my eyes off her.”

“That I can believe. I snuck into the Wolfette tryout on Friday and watched her. I’m still pissed they didn’t select her. She outdanced every girl there.”

“But…” Holden’s brow furrowed in confusion, probably wondering why she’d be at practice.

“She’s the alternate, so she’ll be Wolfie during games.”

“Christ.” Holden tugged his hair in the front before brushing it off his forehead. Expelling a breath, he met my eyes, and all the hostility was gone. “We hooked up, and… I’ve never felt that connected with a girl before. Everything about her was perfect. It was hands down the best sex of my life.”

I expected that to piss me off, but it didn’t. If the twitching in my shorts said anything, I was okay with this development.

“Then your mom married her dad?” I asked, figuring that was his holdup.

“Yes, but…” Holden let out another deep breath and unclenched his fists. “Hope told me Emerson’s the one who bullied her throughout high school. I guess they met at that dance studio Hope went to. Emerson would make fun of Hope for being poor and post things about her online. I wasn’t there, but I remember how much Hope struggled in high school.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Mer.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a great fucking actress.” Holden’s jaw retightened, so I held up my hand in protest.

“That hasn’t been my experience. I hate to say it, but you might be operating on only half the information.”

“You just want to fuck her.”

“Fuck off, Hol. I’m about done with your bullshit. You’re so screwed up over her that you’re not thinking straight.”

Holden’s body tensed, and he squeezed his eyes closed. I could practically see him counting in his head as he calmed himself. After about a minute, he dropped his head and rubbed his temple.

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