Page 126 of Iced Out

“He was aiming for me, you just got in the way.” Then he jams the trophy right back in my arms, and I realize we’re about to play the most backward game of tug-o-war with this fucking thing.

“Still doesn’t count.”Press.

“Well, then you should take it because it’s your legacy.”Push.

“Maybe, but you earned it.”Thrust.

“Quinn—”

My words are cut off when he shoves it against my chest and steps back, leaving him out of arm’s reach. “Just take the stupid thing, Oakley, before I use it to bash your skull in instead.”

I laugh, holding it out in front of me to examine for any damage. “Well, that’d be one helluva way to end the night.”

Key in hand, Quinn starts for the entrance, and I fall in step beside him. “And would go exactly against Coach’s wishes for us to stay out of jail.”

“Eh, I’d make bail.”

I scoff, opening the door to let him through. “I know you’ve got money and an army of lawyers, but I don’t think you’d make bail on a murder charge.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says as we make our way down the hall toward the trophy case. “I don’t have either of those things.”

His words cause me to stutter-step as a pained smile crosses his face. And I don’t even need to ask what he means. The answer, as much as I hate it, is glaringly obvious.

His dad cut him off. Just like he threatened to over break.

“Quinn—”

“I knew it was coming,” he cuts in, his eyes taking on a slight sheen. “It was only a matter of time.”

The hatred I have for these two disgusting people rises to an all-time high.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now.” Quinn clears his throat and makes an attempt to lighten the mood again. “But now you know why I wouldn’t murder you, just severely injure.”

My heart aches for him in my chest, especially knowing this must’ve been weighing on him for a while. But if he wants to keep the heavy shit for a later day, that’s okay. We have plenty of time to talk about it.

The rest of our damn lives, if I have anything to say about it.

“Well, I’m flattered you only want to maim me.”

“It’s a far step above wanting to kill you a few weeks ago,” he points out, bending to unlock the case before sliding the glass door out of the way.

I know he meant nothing by the comment, but I can’t help but feel the twinge of guilt rushing through me.

My teeth roll over my bottom lip while I push one of the other trophies over to make room for ours, and then set it in the empty space. “I’m not complaining at all, but can I ask what made you…”

Glancing up, I find his brow arched as he waits for me to continue. When I don’t, he supplies, “Forgive you?”

I wince at the casual way he says it. “Yeah. That.”

A noncommittal shrug lifts his shoulders as he slides the glass back in place and locks it. “I got your present.”

My brows crash together, confusion setting in as I wrack my brain for anything I might’ve gotten him, only to come up blank. “Your…present?”

The grin appearing on his face is mischievous as hell when he says one word.

A name, actually.

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