Page 88 of Iced Out

I walked away from a fight.

My heart ratchets in my chest, the damn thing pounding against my ribs a little harder at his approval. It’s something I’d never thought I’d get from him, and now knowing how it feels to earn it, there’s nothing else I want.

I want to keep making him proud. Always.

My lips lift at the corner as I smile at him. “I’m proud of me too.”

Twenty-Four

Oakley

The guys at home have been catching on.

Not about Quinton and I specifically, thank fucking God. It’s more like I’ve been distracted lately. If I’m even home, which doesn’t happen a whole lot lately either. And though they might not know why, apparently they’ve taken notice, the fact becoming crystal clear when I shove the front door open after the game against Wynnfield, only to be met with four sets of eyes locked on me from the sectional.

Waiting for me, like an intervention or something.

Slowly, I let my duffle slide off my good shoulder, my gaze flicking from face to face in an attempt to get a read on the situation.

“Someone die?”

“Yeah,” Holden says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the cushions.

His seriousness paired with the quiet tension in the air, hanging there like a storm cloud, causes my stomach to roll with dread. “Who?”

A long sigh comes from him before he says, “Our friendship.”

The rest of the guys chuckle as relief floods through me. My eyes narrow on my best friend, then the rest of them.

“That’s not funny in the slightest.”

“Yeah, well, neither is you being fucking MIA since classes started back up.” Concern lines his features, and he shakes his head. “Where the hell are you lately, man?”

My brows furrow, and I try to play dumb. I play dumb like my fucking life depends on it, because it very well might if these guys discover what I’ve been doing lately. Or who I’ve been doing it with.

“In class or at practice most of the time. Sometimes the gym. And when I’m not at any of those places, I’m usually at the library. You know, studying? Because we’re in college and supposed to be learning things?”

Though I do my best to keep the defensiveness out of my voice, I’m not sure I succeeded, because Holden’s eyes harden on me, and I can tell he’s well on the way to sniffing out my lies.

“Okay, then where the hell are you sleeping? Because it sure as hell isn’t here.”

What the fuck?

“I’ve been here pretty much every night this week?” I tell him, though it sounds more like a question because I’m not sure where he’s getting this idea from. Theonlynight I wasn’t here was earlier this week, when I stayed with Quinn at his parents’ place, and that’s not something I thought anyone would notice.

“Pretty much?”

I gape at him, nearly at a loss for words. “Are you actually about to sit here and treat me like a teenager by asking me where I’ve been past my curfew?” A scoff escapes me, and I shake my head. “Did you body swap with my parents or something?”

“You wanna talk about body swapping?” he counters, brow arched. “Because getting into a fight on the ice sounds a lot like something de Haas would do, Oakley. Not you.”

“News travels fast, I see.” My focus flicks to Camden and Braxton, wondering which one of them opened their fucking mouth first about what happened tonight. “But I’m assuming you didn’t hear the part where Istoppedthe fight.”

“Yet the gash below your eye tells a different story.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Give it a rest, Hold,” Cam pipes in. “He’s right. He was trying to stop it when he got decked. Can’t blame him for that.”

---