Page 56 of Wicked Dreams

I grunt.

What I need is a cold shower and a handful of Tylenol. After finding just that, I walk out with Eli Black. My best friend since we were eleven. Ever since we discovered a mutual love of hockey—specifically the Colorado Titans, our absolute fucking idols—we’ve been inseparable.

Actually, that’s how we looped Liam and Theo into our friend group, too. Playing hockey as squirts, proclaiming our love for certain players… Theo used to declare he just wants to make enough money to buy the team. It’s ambitious, sure. But ambition is what’s going to get us far in life.

“You and Liam haven’t fought in a while,” Eli comments.

“Yeah, well.”

“This about Margo?”

My shoulders stiffen. I’m too tired to fight—Coach ensured that—but it doesn’t mean I’d just roll over and let him say her name.

Jesus.

“Okay, okay.” Eli holds up his hands. “I see why you punched Liam.”

Exactly.

We part ways in the parking lot. Eli to his truck, me to my Audi. It starts with a purr, everything fine-tuned to perfection, and I blow out a breath.

I could go home…

Or I could sneak into Margo’s room again.

So that’s exactly where I go, parked outside the Bryans’ home. Gotta say, I didn’t expect her to be taken in by them, of all people. It’s just… unexpected. My family has known the Bryans for quite some time. Lenora works in the city and frequently comes into contact with my uncle. Same circles and all that. And obviously Robert Bryan brings his wife to the Emery-Rose Elite functions.

Charity and fundraising functions, among other things.

They also happen to live in Liam’s childhood home.

I kill the engine and stare up at Margo’s window. Liam and I used to practice scaling the trellis, but it was usually to sneak out. Using that skill to getintoMargo’s room was kismet.

It’s still early, and her window is dark. I settle in to wait, although part of me wants to go up now and hide in her closet. It was so sweet when she jumped, completely unaware that I shared the same space as her the other night.

My phone rings, killing that idea.

My aunt’s name flashes on my phone and watch. With a grimace, I accept the call.

“Hello, Aunt,” I greet her.

“Caleb.” Her voice is light. “Are we seeing you tonight?”

Forced light.

Is my uncle hovering over her shoulder?

“I’m with Theo,” I lie. “We’re doing some skill work Coach wanted us to perfect.”

“Ah. Okay, well, I just wanted to remind you that we’re coming to your game on Friday.”

My chest tightens. “Okay.”

Players gets season tickets every year for family, and my uncle has already been whispering in Marzden’s ear about better seats. Or a suite, because God forbid he interact withnormalpeople.

The added bonus of my aunt and uncle attending my games?

Endless beratement.

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