Page 72 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

But the relief only lasts for a second, then my brittle future flashes in front of me, feeling more out of reach and unattainable than ever.

This is my future. My freaking career. And there’s no way I’m letting anything get in the way of it. Not even Theodore Taylor.

22

THEO

The final score taunts me on the scoreboard as I head back to the rink. Colt’s still on the bench. He never left. Not after the last buzzer rang out through the arena ending the game and marking our first loss of the season. Not after the fans left. Not after the rest of the team showered and headed home, licking their wounds, ready to drown their sorrows at SeaBird.

Today’s game wasn’t exactly a great way to start our senior year or impress the first wave of scouts. It doesn’t matter we’ve already received a few offers. The ones worth caring about were in today’s stands. And we fucked up.

I adjust my baseball hat on my head, twisting it forward as I take a seat on the edge of the bench next to Colt. The bastard doesn’t even acknowledge me. The space is charged. Tense. And I don’t know how to fix it. To shift the balance back into our friendship. Not after the shit I pulled. Not after the way he found out about it.

I stare blankly at the scoreboard again. One to five. The only point scored was by Logan which only adds salt to the wound of defeat.

Fucking Logan.

I can’t even be pissed he called me out in the locker room. No one forced me to touch Blake. That’s on me. I wanted to touch her. To claim her. To own her. But I wasn’t thinking about the aftermath. I wasn’t thinking about Colt or our friendship. I was only thinking about her. The fucking Thorne in my side.

Tearing my attention from the score, I look at the chipped half-wall separating the benches from the rink instead, unable to face Colt head-on until I get this shit off my chest. “Listen. I––”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he mutters.

I tilt my head and force myself to look at him, my shame clawing its way up my throat. But this has to be done. Has to be said. Has to be heard. The question is…will Colt listen?

“Come on, man,” I push.

His dead eyes turn to me. “Did you touch my baby sister?”

I hesitate, shoving aside the twist of guilt in my chest. It’s the way he says it. With disgust. Resentment. Like I betrayed him. His best friend. What he doesn’t get is this isn’t fair for either of us.

If Blake were anyone else’s little sister, I wouldn’t feel bad. I’d fucking claim her. But she’s Colt’s family. Colt’s baby sister.

There isn’t anything that will change it.

He deserves the truth. And he deserves to hear it from me.

“Did you touch my baby sister?” he repeats.

“Yeah, man. I did.” I squeeze the back of my neck, unable to look at him any longer. “But it wasn’t because of a bet.”

With a scoff, he rests his elbows on his knees and scratches his jaw, staring at the ice in front of us. “Then why’d you do it?”

Because I like her. Because I’ve wanted to touch her for years. Because she knows how to get under my skin and make herself at home despite my best attempts to keep her at bay. But none of those reasons will be enough. I know Colt. He might not have cared if Blake and I were a thing before. But now? After how everything went down and the way Logan twisted it? There’s no way.

He turns his dull gaze to me again. “I know I said she can handle herself. And she can. With anyone but you.”

It would hurt less if he would’ve decked me.

“What’s wrong with me?” I ask.

A dry, angry laugh slips out of him. “One and done, right?”

“Not with her,” I argue.

“So, you guys are a thing now?”

“I…” I let out a sigh, replaying the night for the thousandth time. “I dunno. After it happened, she left.”

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