Page 49 of Crease Collision

Blood rushes in my ears as the bus moves through the arena parking lot. I press my thumb against the phone screen, scrolling without seeing a damn thing.

What the hell happened in there?

Not the game, or even the part where I went after Oskar and chased him down like he’d stolen something from me. I’m confused about the part where I acted unhinged.

I scrub a hand over my face and sit back hard enough to jolt the seat. It doesn’t matter.

So why the hell does it feel like I just lost something?

The bus lurches onto the street, and someone starts talking about the night like it was only another game. It ought to be that simple. If I’d stayed in our dressing room, I could have talked to the guys and walked with them to the bus. Nobody would’ve said a thing about my disappearance because it wouldn’t have happened.

Instead, I⁠—

Nope. Not going there.

My finger hovers over the phone screen. Without meaning to, I flip to messages and study the empty space like something might appear there.

I will not message the guy I just yelled at in a borrowed room after he’d taken the ice like the world’s tallest Swedish drama queen.

Shit.

I close my eyes, but it doesn’t help. His voice pushes in anyway. “We both held things back.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “And you waited until I couldn’t fucking miss it to tell me what you hadn’t said.”

My eyes snap open, and I look straight ahead. Maybe I can outrun the thoughts if I focus hard enough on something else.

No luck, because the problem isn’t that he plays for the Fury, or that he’s a goalie. It’s the way he looked at me, like he expected me to stay.

Fuck that.

I shift in my seat and try to ignore the pain in my gut. I don’t owe Oskar anything. Not a goddamn thing.

While I’m chewing on that, the seat dips. An overgrown body forces its way in.

I look over. “The fuck, Theo? You’re taking up the whole goddamn seat.”

He wiggles, giving me at least another inch of space. “I’m⁠—”

“You smell like that skanky shower soap the Fury has.”

“What am I supposed to smell like?”

“You could start with not that.”

Theo studies me for too long, then leans back. “You good, buddy?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“For one thing, you’re up here. You never sit in the front.”

“The universe doesn’t revolve around the back of a damn bus.”

He scrunches his eyebrows together. Not like he’s irritated; more like he’s clocking something.

“McKay said you were in a room with their goalie.”

I don’t look at him. “McKay talks too much.”