Page 26 of Heart of Thorns

My gratitude falls short when I eye the guy standing beside my rescuer. Both of them are football players, but the one who picked me up is wearing the visiting team colors. He eyes me curiously when the words die on the end of my tongue.

“You’re welcome?”

I blink a few times.

The one who helped me smirks. “Are you starstruck?”

What?

Ignoring him, I swing my gaze to his friend. He has suddenly disappeared. My attention latches on to his backside as he quickly storms away from us. His last name and number are obscured by a towel.

Dread digs into my lower stomach, and my heart is like sludge. It slips to the ground and leaves me feeling empty. I blink through the memory of the night of the fire fighting to get to the forefront of my brain.

“Wh—who is that?” I ask, nodding to my rescuer’s fleeing friend.

The dark-eyed guy peers over his shoulder and shrugs. “Not sure. He plays for Shadow Valley.”

My nose scrunches with confusion.

“I’ve never seen you on campus before. Are you a freshman? What are you doing at an away game?”

The realization hits me.I’m wearing the other team’s colors.

The crowd thins, so instead of making small talk and explaining myself, I head in the same direction as the other guy. Hesitation creeps into the back of my mind but instead of listening to the warning, I continue moving forward. It’s as if there’s a rope pulling me toward danger and the tattered threads are woven with fear and curiosity.

What if it was him?

Ever since I was purposefully trapped in that burning building, there’s been a black cloud following me around. Whoever it was is faceless in my head. I never got a glimpse of his face, and I’m pretty sure the dean suspects I’ve made the entire thing up—as if I’d trap myself in a burning building and fling out of a window for funsies.

I follow the broad-shouldered guy, weaving in and out of the crowd and pausing every few seconds to rest my knee without ever losing sight. The emptiness in my stomach goes deeper with every step in his direction.

If I could just get close to him and get a feel for his height and presence, then maybe I’d be able to give myself some self-assurance that I’m wrong.

I was in a panic.

Maybe I’m just attaching any sort of panic to the night of the fire.

Pressing against the side of the bleachers, I do a quick sweep of the fans exiting the field. I dip inside the tunnel when no one is watching.

It’s quiet and dark, which does nothing but unsettle me even more.

Choppy breaths fill the air, and I move in the direction of the weight room. The team is loud, following after me. They’re hollering and clapping, bustling with excitement from their win.

It’s a little nostalgic. The girls and I did the same thing after a tough game on the ice.

I recognize Thorne’s voice and I’m instantly irritated that it settles me. He’s going on about how well they did, and I’d never admit it, but he’s definitely captain-like. Very motivating and encouraging, while also touching on a few areas of improvement.

I roll my eyes and stay pressed against the side of the hallway until some guys chatting about the party they’re going to head to seem to get closer. I panic and slip into the weight room. The lights are off so it’s hard to see me, but I can see them perfectly.

If only Thorne could see me now—he’d absolutely think I was a stalker.

And I sort of am, except I’m not stalkinghim.

I’m stalking a potential arsonist.

Several of the players, most of whom I recognize, walk down the hall with their bags slung over their shoulders. Their hair is damp, and I can smell their manly body wash through the door as they head to a campus party.

By the time my heart rate slows, it picks right back up when a tall-framed guy walks down the hallway with a few players I don’t recognize. They must be freshmen or sophomores. I stare at the quiet one to the left with his hood pulled up over his head and a lump forms in my throat.

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