Page 34 of Unsteady

No part he’s shared with me has been the hockey captain, Rhys Koteskiy—until today.

“Right.”

But his face looks a little forlorn, and I wish I could take it back because I hate this, but I choose to bite down on my lip hard, hoping to keep anything else horrible from spewing out of my mouth.

My phone rings again, Oliver and Liam’s grinning faces brightening the screen and sending a heated wave of anxiety through me again. I answer quickly, waiting with my eyes shut tight for Liam’s small sobs, but it’s Oliver this time.

“Sadie?”

“Hey, killer,” I barely etch out. “Are you okay? I’m on my way now.”

“We missed the bus for the early program. And Liam peed his pants again. Are we gonna get in trouble since it’s the first day of school?”

A breath of relief puffs through my lips and I nod, even though he can’t see it. “Alright, that’s okay. And no, you’re not going to be in trouble. Don’t worry. I’ll be home soon and we’ll figure it out.”

Hanging up, I jerk my entire body towards my rolled-down window, hands gripping the ledge.

“Were you going to offer me a ride? Cause I’ll take it.”

“Yeah.” His expression is a mix of relieved confusion, most likely from my extreme hot and cold attitude.

“Great!” I hop out of the car, nearly barreling him over with the unexpected push on my door. He only falters a moment, before grabbing the handle and holding it for me.

He takes my bag from my shoulder, hauling it towards his sleek, shiny car—that I've already admired once this morning—before opening that and dropping my bag in the backseat on his way around.

The leather is cool on my skin. I lean back, as if I’ve been here in this car with him a million times before.

The bubble that forms around me in his private presence starts to form as he settles next to me and takes my address, his eyes keen on his backup camera and then on the road, as if he’s just earned his license.

“I hate driving,” he huffs after a few quiet minutes, cheeks glowing and eyes wide as if he hadn’t entirely meant to say that aloud.

“Why did you offer?”

His brow furrows again, hands squeezing tight on the steering wheel before blowing a hefty breath, fluffing the thick hair hanging over his forehead. And then he smiles, that same dimpled shining star smile and I realize—it isn’t fake, he’s just that goddamn beautiful.

“You needed my help.”

I don’t trust my mouth to say anything.

It’s quiet in the car, but my ears are keen on the music he plays, as they always are. Still, it’s just the main pop station, rolling through top hits. It’s like he’s too focused on driving to notice anything else. He doesn’t sing along, doesn’t even tap his fingers, while every muscle in my body is tight with the restraint of just belting out every song or dancing in my seat. Music, like sex, is a form of release for me. When everything feels like too much, it’s a safe place for me to channel it all—much safer than my tendency to indulge in late night party bathroom hookups or not-even-one-full-night stands.

Music, any style, makes me feel good.

I’m so tight with the swirling tension in the cabin of the car, that I burst like a spring toy out of the door the second he gets slightly close to my cul-de-sac turnoff.

“Jesus Christ!” he shouts, slamming the brakes so hard, the open door nearly hits me, despite my grip on the handle. “God, Sadie—please don’t ever do that again.”

I want to spout off something sarcastic, but there’s genuine fear in his eyes, and his face looks stricken, like he’s just seen a ghost.

The same face he’d given me when I fell into the boards.

So, I bite down on my lip and mutter an apology, tacked on with a thank you, as I point over the shoulder at the shoddy red brick duplex behind me, the grass too high and filled with weeds. I’m not ashamed, I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime, but Rhys in a shiny black BMW screams silver spoons and daddy’s money; even if he has a deep well of secrets and emotional trauma beneath the pretty hair and handsome smile. Showing him my home, where all ofmysecrets live, doesn’t really rank highly on things I’d like to do with the hockey boy.

“I need to go. Seriously, thank you, Rhys.”

He reaches across the console, his massive wingspan stretching until he’s able to keep me from closing the door. It’s surprisingly attractive and my cheeks blush with heat.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, the dip of his brow steady. He leaves the rest unsaid, but I can see it in his eyes. I’ve helped him when he couldn’t stand, he’s offering to do the same.

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