Page 84 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

“I know it’s none of my business, but did Mia tell you about her run-in when you dropped her off at work?”

“No?”

“I’m seriously going to strangle the girl,” Ash mutters under her breath, adding, “Shorty showed up at our place earlier. I don’t think Mia wanted me to tell you, but he grabbed her, Colt. He grabbed her wrist, and it freaked me out.”

“He did what?” I growl into my cell as the rest of the team ties their skates and starts heading to the rink.

“I know Mia won’t want to make it a big deal, and I know it isn’t your job to protect her,” Ash adds, “But he grabbed her arm, Colt. And if I hadn’t been here…”

My blood boils as I find Shorty in the room playing with his phone. Like he didn’t scare the shit out of Ash and Mia. Like he didn’t show up on their porch earlier today. Like he wasn’t acting like a fucking caveman, using his size to intimidate an innocent person.

My hands clench around my cell, threatening to crack the screen as I grit out, “I’ll take care of it.”

“Colt!” Theo yells, oblivious to my phone conversation. “Coach wants to talk to you.”

“Coach?” Ash asks, her voice cracking through the cell speaker.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Uh, yeah. I’ve been practicing with the team.”

“Holy crap, Colt! That’s huge.”

The rest of the team files out, and I watch them go, clearing my throat and turning back to my locker. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

“Are you officially on the team now? Like, are you playing in the games and stuff? Why didn’t you tell me? Can I come watch? I’d love to show the team my support if you know what I mean.”

I can hear the smile in her voice, and it only fans my guilt.

“Can we talk later?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

She pauses. “Oh. Yeah, of course. Are you still planning on coming over tonight? You know…to study,” she teases. It eases the tightness in my chest.

I chuckle and glance around the empty locker room when Coach Sanderson yells from his office, “Thorne! Now!”

“Gotta go.” I hang up the phone, shove it in my locker, and walk into his office.

“Close the door,” he orders.

I do as I’m told and sit down on the seat across his desk littered with trophies, Expo Markers, and a couple of pucks.

With his fingers steepled in front of him, he stares at me for a solid minute. Finally, he asks, “So?”

“So?” I repeat, shifting in my chair.

“So, can I rely on you?”

“For…?” My voice trails off.

“You’ve been practicing with us for weeks, but you’re refusing to play a real game, and you won’t let me put you on the team roster. Since you didn’t play for any previous colleges, you can be a walk-on, Colt. You know this.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m…” I scrub my hand over my face. “I’m not ready yet.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you at practice. You’re already better than the majority of your teammates.”

“I meant up here.” I tap the side of my head, and he nods his understanding.

Adjusting his red and black LAU hat on his bald head, he asks, “And what will get you ready up there?”

“I dunno,” I answer honestly. “But if I can’t practice with the team anymore––”

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