Page 120 of A Little Complicated

Archer’s quiet. He hasn’t said much, and I have a feeling it has something to do with whatever happened in the locker room with his brother and his dad.

The question is, what happened?

“You played well,” I offer, twisting my hands in my lap while fighting off the helplessness growing in the pit of my stomach as Archer drives us home from the arena. He’s been acting off ever since he returned from the locker room without his twin.

I have no idea where Maverick is.

It’s only stressing me out more. I feel like I’m sitting on pins and needles. Like an overinflated balloon is lodged in my chest and could pop at any second. Like something’s wrong. Something’s seriously wrong. And I don’t know what it is.

“I’m sorry Maverick hit you,” I add.

Archer’s chin dips slightly as he flips the blinker on and turns onto the main road. LAU lost 1-2. My parents offered to take the team out to dinner, but the guys wanted to come home and lick their wounds. My sister’s in the backseat. Her nose is less than six inches from the pages of her book. She’s staying with me for the next couple of days until she can steal a ride home from Dylan’s parents after they officially move Dylan’s things into our place. Finley went home, too, promising she’d be back by the end of the weekend with her boxes. Personally, I think it’s because she wanted to sneak in one more night with her boyfriend before they head to opposite ends of the country for their freshman year. But what do I know?

Besides, I have bigger things to deal with.

Like finding out why Maverick hit Archer and why I feel like it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have given in to Finley’s suggestion. I shouldn’t have worn Archer’s jersey. It doesn’t matter how we both agreed to keep our relationship hidden from our family. Maverick’s pissed, and he has every right to be. Things are still messy between us, but I hate how Archer is the one caught in the crosshairs.

Archer’s hands tighten around the steering wheel as if he can read my thoughts, and he mutters, “Maverick quit.”

Confused, I crane my neck toward the driver’s side of the car. “He what?”

“He quit. He said he’s done playing hockey.”

I shake my head. “Why would he…?”

“I don't know.” Archer sighs. “I have no idea what his problem is, but he won’t talk to me.”

He won’t talk to you because he’s pissed at you, and you have no idea why, I want to say, but I don’t. It would only make things worse.

Touching my fingers against my lips, I play out a thousand scenarios, but none of them fix this. None of them mend the fraying relationship between the two brothers, all because I wound up falling for both of them.

“I’m sorry, Archer,” I whisper. “I know how much you love your brother.”

“I do,” he agrees. His iron grip loosens on the steering wheel, and he glances at me. “How are you doing?”

“Just bummed you guys lost,” I reply as he turns into the driveway and cuts the engine. Tatum climbs out of the backseat, closing the door behind her with a soft thud as if afraid of interrupting us.

Maybe she’s not as oblivious as I assumed.

I reach for my handle, but Archer stops me with a gentle touch on my knee. “You’re worried about Mav, aren’t you?”

With a sigh, I let the door handle go and settle back in my seat. “Mav and I bonded over our love of hockey. The idea of him quitting doesn’t make any sense.”

“Something’s going on with him, but I don’t know what, and the more I dig, the more he retreats.”

It isn’t surprising. Maverick’s good at pushing people away. I should know. I’m his favorite victim. But he’s never pushed Archer away, not really. And his parents? They’ve always been close.

Archer squeezes my thigh, and I stare at his touch. “I hate it,” I whisper.

“Me too. I’ll figure it out, though.”

“You sound so confident.”

“I’m his brother,” Archer reminds me. “Now, enough sad shit.” He picks my hand up and kisses the back of it. “Let’s go get shit-faced. After the fight with my brother and tonight’s loss, I could use my best friend to help me drown my worries in alcohol.”

I smile back at him, surprised by how much lighter I feel. “That, I can do.”

39

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