Page 21 of Pretty When He Bleeds

Nothing.

At first, I told myselfgood fucking riddance. Damon disappearing was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. No more smirks, no more taunts, no more confusing boners. And no more grabbing me and whispering things I can’t forget even when I close my eyes.

But now… now I’m looking for him wherever I go.

I walk downstairs and see Killian at the breakfast table, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in a week. “Morning,” I say as I move to plate my own breakfast from the scrambled eggs and shitload of bacon in the warmer. Killian’s legit like the fucking mother in this house, making sure the place is clean and we’re fed.

“Finally,” he says, gesturing at me with his fork as I sit down opposite him. “Thought you were gonna sleep through breakfast again.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not my mom, Kill.”

“And thank fuck for that,” he deadpans, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” I grumble, stabbing at a piece of sausage with my fork. “Just… busy.”

“With what? Pissing Coach off? Brooding in classes? Or maybe sulking because you haven’t gotten into a fight in—what’s it been now—nearly twenty whole days?”

I glare at my best friend, but he’s not wrong. I haven’t felt the need to pick a fight with anyone, not after Damon punched me.

“Seriously, Rome,” Killian says, his tone softer now. “If this is about Damon—”

“It’s not,” I snap, cutting him off before he even goes there, but who am I kidding?

Killian raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Right. Because you totally haven’t been looking for him whenever we’re on campus.”

“I haven’t,” I say, but it’s a weak defense and Kill knows it.

He just laughs and leans back in his chair to watch me. “You’re a shitty liar, Bishop. Always have been.”

I shovel eggs into my mouth before I say something I’ll regret, but Killian isn’t wrong. Ihavebeen looking for him for some fucked-up reason. Maybe to apologize, or to just talk to him without pissing him off. He’s Caleb’s brother, and yeah, he used to dislike me back when Caleb and I were in high school together, but there’s no reason we can’t be civil.

Even though my thoughts about him have been anythingbutcivil. The guy could ruin me and I’d let him. I hate that I’ve felt his absence like a phantom limb.

Killian doesn’t bring it up again—thank fuck—and we finish our breakfast before heading out to classes.

Afterward, we make our way to the rink for drills. The ice is where I’m supposed to feel at home, where I’m supposed to leave all the bullshit behind, and it works for the most part. I fall into a rhythm, skating and listening to Killian bark orders and crack jokes. He keeps the team focused while still managing to piss Coach off.

But even on the ice, Damon’s shadow lingers. Fuck knows why; he’s never come to watch a game and yet I still find myself glancing toward the stands.

We hit the gym after practice because Killian is a fucking demon who loves making me suffer. He decided we’re starting the season stronger, and I’m tired as hell but maybe sweating out whatever has been gnawing at me will help.

“Let’s hit the weights before the football guys take over,” he suggests and we weave through the gym toward the free weights at the back. But that’s when I see him.

Damon is at the pull-up bar with his back to me. He’s dressed in a pair of black baseball shorts and a black tank that clings to his body, damp with sweat. His tattooed arms flex as he lifts himself, his back muscles rippling with every movement.

I can’t fucking move.

Killian follows my line of vision and I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s smirking. “You good?”

I tear my eyes away. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But I’m not fine. I’m so far from fucking fine right now.

“Since your favorite person is alive and well, why don’t we get started?” he drawls, and I shoot him a glare but it doesn’t have its usual bite.

My focus is back on Damon and my mouth goes fucking dry as I watch him on the pull-up bar. His tank top rides up slightly as he pulls himself up, showing a sliver of tattooed skin above his waistband.

Holy fucking shit.

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