Page 16 of Lost Boy

I don’t go to therapy anymore. I did for six months after it happened because my parents made me. But it didn’t seem to help me much. I guess I prefer to deal with things internally, which isn’t always good. So, even though the nightmares still haunt me, I don’t like to talk about the worst hours of my life when I was kept in his basement. Maybe it’s too fresh. I mean, it was only a year ago. I don’t know how long it takes the mind to heal from something like that, but even I know that it’s longer than a measly year.

As I swing my legs off the bed and trudge toward the bathroom, I hear my brother and Watson talking outside their rooms.

“We need to go,” Watson says, shaking his head. “I’m done waiting just because he can’t get his ass up in the morning. It’s becoming a fucking problem.”

Hunter sighs. He’s loyal to a fault. So, I’m sure leaving Cade here and going to practice would tear him up inside. That’s just how he is. How he’s always been.

Leaning against Cade’s door, he smacks his palm against the wood at least five times. “Cade, get the fuck up! You’re going to be late, and Coach will have your fucking ass.”

“I’ll be in the truck,” Watson says, a stern look on his face. “I’ll give him three minutes, and if his ass isn’t in the vehicle, he can go by himself. Or not go. Either way, I don’t fucking care,” Watson mutters before taking off down the stairs.

“Cade, hurry up. I’m not doing this today,” Hunter growls. “I don’t have time for your shit.”

It’s not unusual for the guys to take separate vehicles to practice. But I think my brother knows that if he doesn’t wakehim up now, Cade will oversleep and miss the entire thing. And then Coach will likely bench him for the next game. Which isn’t just bad for Cade. It’ll hurt the team as a whole. They need him.

“Christ almighty, I’m coming, Thompson,” Cade calls out lazily. “Calm your pickle. I’m fucking awake, goddammit. We’ll make it in time for Watson to give Coach a big ol’ smooch on his ass and a blow job if he’s really lucky.”

Seconds later, the door swings open, and out walks Cade. Though he’s fully dressed, gear in hand, his hair is messier than usual, and his eyes look sleepy. Still … he’s stupidly handsome. Especially when he gives me his signature grin.

“Morning, Haley baby.” He winks. “You’re looking as beautiful as ever.”

“Huff, shut up and get in the truck,” my brother says, heading down the stairs. “See ya, Hales.”

“Bye,” I mutter, my eyes remaining on Cade because … well, how can they not?

Cade rolls his eyes but smirks at me. “So dramatic,” he retorts before following Hunter.

He might be a mess, but, dammit, he’s hard not to adore.

Cade

As we head outside, I walk next to Hunter and pinch his nipple. “Y’all get too worked up, you and Gentry.”

Shoving me away, he rubs his chest. “Stop fucking off. Watson’s pissed at you. And I can’t say I blame him either.” He glares back at me, resting his hand on the truck door just asWatson lays on the horn. “Why the hell have you been sleeping in so much lately, Huff? I don’t get it. This is go time. Not time to slack off.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say, pretending like nothing is off with me. “I’m up, aren’t I? And with plenty of time to spare. I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to fucking roll. So, get off my nutsack, would ya?”

I climb into the back of Watson’s truck. He doesn’t look my way, much less speak to me. Watson is very much a type-A personality. And the one thing he can’t stand isalmostbeing late. I think he thinks that’s just as bad as actually being late. Not being good with time is a thing Haley and I have in common. It’s something I find downright adorable about her. The girl barely makes it on time anywhere. She’s always rushing out the door with just minutes to spare before class starts.

I haven’t always been the dude who sleeps in and shows up late. Time is just something that’s been easy to lose track of lately. But when you play for a D1 college, that’s not exactly a good quality to have. I understand why the boys are annoyed that I kept them waiting. But, goddamn, I wish they’d back off. I always show up even if I am sometimes racing the clock to get to where I’m going. I’m there when I need to be.

Watson and Hunter talk about our opponent for this weekend’s games. I don’t chime in because, honestly, I don’t really care to talk about it. We’ll show up and do what we need to do to bring home the win. But stressing about it now won’t do a damn thing.

Besides … it’s just hockey. There’s other shit going on in the world that matters more.

When that sour thought crosses my mind, I feel guilty. If Eli could be here right now, he’d be doing everything he could to prepare for our next game. He’d make me prepare, too, even though I’d bitch the entire time, just like I always used to.

Eli should be here, playing as a Wolf. He’s the one who wanted it. And he’s the one who deserved it. Not me.

I’m the main puppet in my very own show. Pretending I’m the furthest thing from what I actually am. But it’s only a matter of time before people learn the truth. And my world will crumble beneath me.

I finish showering after practice and head to my locker to get dressed. Once I tug my clothes on, I look at my phone to find a text from Poppy.

Great.

She wants to practice and only has time within the next hour. As if I’m not already dead enough from Coach running us ragged, now, I have to go be a balle-fucking-rina on top of it. I could kick Brody O’Brien right in the nuts for making us do this fundraiser if it wasn’t for such a good cause.

We haven’t practiced nearly as often as some of the other groups. Fuck, especially as much as Hunter and his partner, Sutton. But I’m sensing there is more to them than just dance partners. More like … a developing relationship or at least fuck buddies. Which would be hot since they claimed to hate each other not that long ago.

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