Page 138 of Revolve
“Are you insane?” he hisses. “You can’t skate on a fucking grade two sprain.”
“I’ll be fine with painkillers,” I say. “Right now, you’re going to help me wrap my ankle as tight as possible, and then you’re going to keep your mouth shut.”
“But—”
“Promise me.”
“Dylan—”
“Promise that you won’t tell anyone, Kian. Not even Summer.”
His mouth opens and closes until resignation settles. “I promise.”
I relax a bit. The things I’d do just to see Sierra’s smile are pathetic. I didn’t expected to be the kind of boyfriend who would blindly follow his girl off a cliff, but damn does it feel good. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure she’s winning, with me always by her side.
FORTY-NINE
SIERRA
WHEN I WOKEup to a good morning text from my boyfriend, it worried me. Dylan usually sends a picture—him in bed, in the shower, or cuddling Kian’s kitten. But today, he texted me a good luck for my exam, and he had a bouquet of yellow lilies delivered to my dorm. The note simply read:I love you. What threw me off was that he got themdelivered, by some freshman who looked like he was forced into it. I know Dylan, and he’d never pass up on the chance to immediately reap the benefits of his romantic gesture.
So, after my forensics exam, I head up the front steps of their house with two of my favorite carb-loaded pre-performance meals in hand. But as I’m using my key to get into the house, the door’s yanked open, taking my key with it. That’s when I see Summer. She smiles, giving me a quick hug and aso proud of youbefore descending the steps to sprint to the truck.
Aiden bursts through the front door just seconds later. “Summer!” he yells after her. He’s still in his boxers and doesn’t seem to mind the bitter chill or the frost he’s barefoot on. The truck roars to life, and my gaze ping-pongs between Summer’s glare and his smile.
“Did she just steal your truck?” I ask, watching as she pulls out of the driveway.
“It’s basically her truck now.” That seems to be the only reaction he has to that. “Are you here to see Dylan?”
“Yup. Today’s the big day.”
“Congrats on everything. And good luck tonight, we’ll be rooting for you two in the stands,” Aiden says with an oddly stiff smile.
I enter Dylan’s room, and that’s when I step on the full-grown man on the floor.
“Ouch! Are you wearing cleats?” Kian hisses, then he stands with Whiskers in his arms, stretching with a loud yawn.
“I’m wearing socks.” I put the food on Dylan’s desk. “Why are you sleeping in here?”
“Just worried about D—” Kian stops abruptly. He glances at Dylan’s empty bed, then around the room until he hears the shower. He sighs inwardly. “W-worried about … having nightmares,” he finishes.
“You get nightmares?”
He nods. “We watchedThe Ringlast night. Guaranteed nightmare-giver.”
When I notice a pair of crutches against the wall beside the bathroom, my heart plummets. Just seeing them takes me back to after my surgery, when I used crutches for a week. Seeing them brings me back to the cool air on my raw skin as the hospital gown billowed around me.
“Whose crutches are those?” I ask, my voice shaky.
The mattress squeaks when Kian drops onto it. “Mine!”
“Yours?”
“Yeah, can you pass them? My ankle hurts from all that standing.”
I hand them to him, feeling the cold metal like a distant memory under my fingers.
“I hurt my ankle after our game last night. I’ll be okay though.” Kian blinks so rapidly it kind of freaks me out. “It’s just a sprain. The doctor said he—I—will be fine with some rest. But he—uh, I—can’t play,” he stammers, tripping over his words.
