Page 19 of Someday Away

I didn’t bother to find out which skank from the party was fucking my boyfriend. I just fled. I ran into the woods behind my parents’ house and hid Bella-from-New Moon-style until Seb found me hours later.

Matt’s blatant lack of humanity that night was the start of my panic attacks, and they only got worse with my mom’s death a month later. The whole situation messed up Seb, too. Evidently, he saw me running from the room and went to investigate, and saw the whole thing as well. Matt was Seb’s best friend, so I suspect his heart broke that day, too—though I doubt he’d admit it.

I try not to mentally return to the scene, but it’s hard looking at him without recalling the memory with alarming clarity.

I clench my fists to keep my hands from shaking. “Hi, Matt.” Somehow my voice doesn’t tremble. “What’re you doing here?”

He shrugs. “We always said we’d go to college together after high school.”

I look at him deadpan, swallowing the panic that threatens to choke me. “Yeah, that was before you fucked some party skank,” I say, giving my best eat-shit smile. But my confidence is all fake. Next to me, Fiona giggle-snorts, nearly spraying alcohol all over the counter.

Matt gives her a dark look before returning his attention to me. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve worse, Matt.” I sigh. “Why are you really here?”

“Didn’t you hear? I’m Whitmore U’s star hockey center.”

“I did hear, actually.” I grimace. “You’re herejustfor hockey?” I ask doubtfully, though other than me, hockey was his favorite childhood obsession.

“Look,” he says, raising his hands, “I just want to talk.”

My heart rate kicks up again.

Fiona watches us as if trying to determine whether to defuse the situation.

Breathe.

Matt reaches for me, and I flinch as his fingers graze my cheek and push a strand of hair behind my ear. I feel sweaty and nauseous. I step back, trying to escape his reach, but my knees are weak like hot Jell-o, and I stumble.

Someone grabs my wrist, steadying my balance and yanking me backward at the same time. To my surprise, Lincoln is hovering over me. My panic attack stalls as I stare at him.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Lincoln growls.

I thought he hated me, but he stares at Matt with murder in his pitch-black eyes. Lincoln pulls me roughly behind him, then pushes my ex with his other hand. Matt stumbles back, surprise etched on his face.

Lincoln is shaking with rage; I can feel his hard muscles tense against my body, and his grip on me is borderline painful.

A more gentle hand clasps my free one, and I look back to see Trey, his expression equally livid.

Lincoln drops my hand and stands in front of Trey and me.

Matt recovers quickly, shoving him back. Lincoln doesn’t even move.

“The fuck is your problem?” Matt demands, stepping into Lincoln’s space. Big mistake there. Fiona senses the mood and moves around the counter to stand next to Trey.

“Are you with him or something?” Matt asks, trying to catch my eye around an enraged Lincoln.

Before I can think to respond, Lincoln hits Matt in the mouth, and he falls ass-first onto the ground, blood pouring from a split lip.

“You don’t get to even look at her. Do you know who I am?” Lincoln asks coldly.

“Yeah,” Matt replies, standing back up and spitting blood onto the floor. “I know who you are, Evans, and I’m not fucking scared of you, pretty rich boy.” Matt starts laughing. His lips and teeth are red, giving him a slightly unhinged look—like Heath Ledger’s Joker personified. “You can’t do shit to me,” he says, his grin widening. “Your daddy might own buildings at this school, but I’m fucking hockey royalty.”

Lincoln stares him down, muscles bulging, the tendons in his neck taut. “Don’t touch what’s mine.”

Wait, what?

“And get the fuck out,” Lincoln rumbles.

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