Page 111 of Iced Out

“It’s better to just let him go,” he mutters, sorrow written on his face. “Trust me on this one, Oak.”

I push back against his palm, only to have another hand clamp on my shoulder. This one belongs to Camden. He spins me away from Holden and presses me against the wall with a painful grip.

“Look, I know you’re used to being the one who always knows best and is always right, but right now, you’re not. Going after him is only going to make things way worse.” He ducks his head, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You know how he gets when he’s pissed. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of his fists when we’ve got a game to play tomorrow.”

The game tomorrow is the last thing on my mind. My one and only thought is circling around getting to Quinn as quickly as possible. Maybe figure out how to explain this so it makes sense.

If it’s even possible.

“Don’t even think about it,” Holden says, almost reading my thoughts as he stares at me.

Camden must pick up on it too, because his eyes narrow on my face. “Where are your keys?”

Goddamnit.

“Downstairs table.”

Cam glances at Theo, who simply nods and sets off down the stairs to get them without a word, retrieving my keys and probably hiding them somewhere I’ll never be able to find them.

Doesn’t matter. I could always walk to Quinn’s once they’re all asleep.

“Are you going to make me camp outside your door all night to make sure you don’t make a run for it?” Holden asks, cocking his head. “Because I will. I’m not above it one fucking bit if it means keeping your face nice and pretty and in one piece.”

“We could put a bell on his door,” Cam adds. “Make it easier to wake us.”

Theo chooses that moment to reappear. “Are we planning to put bars on the windows too, or is that reaching extreme limits?”

The four of them get a good laugh out of his joke, but while they might find this entire conversation hilarious, I sure as fuck don’t.

“You all fucking suck,” I mutter, attempting to free myself from Cam’s hold. Except Holden’s right there when I fight back, and his hand presses against my other shoulder, keeping me firmly locked in place.

I’m being held there, powerless to the situation I’ve found myself in, and no idea where to go from here.

And while it scares the shit out of me, it also makes me angry. Irrationally so, and it’s this moment when I realize why it’s so easy for Quinn to let his snap.

Being backed into a corner, utterly helpless, is the worst feeling in the world.

My glare moves from Holden to Camden, and finally to Braxton. He’s the only one not saying anything. In fact, he’s not doing anything other than leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest, and staring at me.

Like he doesn’t even recognize me.

“Fine,” I bite, sick of being the star of this Jerry Springer-esque showdown. “You win. I’ll stay here. You can all go.”

Not wanting to stick around long enough for them to ask any other questions, I shove free from Cam and Holden’s grasps and barge my way through them until I’m inside the safe haven of my room. The door slams closed behind me, my back colliding with it, and I sink down until my ass hits the wooden floor. It’s cool against my skin, and it’s at that moment I realize…I’m still in only my underwear.

Great.

My fingers weave their way through my hair, and I grip the strands hard enough to rip them clean from my head. But the pain lancing through my scalp as I pull and tug has nothing on the fucking agony coursing through my veins, heading straight for my heart.

The gravity of this situation is suffocating, and it’s all I can do to breathe through the panic.

I can still hear the murmurings of Cam and Holden’s voices from the other side of the door, but it’s low enough to where I can’t make out the exact conversation. But I’m sure I catch the phrasesleeping togethermore than once, and it’s more than enough to get me up from my spot on the floor.

The last thing I want right now is to hear their opinions on me sleeping with Quinn when they don’t know a goddamn thing about it.

Crossing the room, I grab a pair of sweats and drag them up my thighs. I’m shoving my arms through the sleeves of my hockey hoodie just as a knock comes from the other side of my door.

A low growl works its way from my throat, and I don’t care which of them it is. I’m not fucking doing this right now. “Go away. I’m not in the mood.”

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