Page 28 of Unbound

Later that night, I read “The Moon and the Yew Tree” and quietly cry. He doesn’t know, not really. He couldn’t. But Bennett sees something no one else has.

I’m not sure if it comforts me or scares me.

Chapter 14

NOW

Bennett

“Great work today,” Coach Harris says, stepping into the locker room—eyes darting toward the huddled, chatting pair of Holden and Toren. “Dougherty, Kane, Coach LaBlanc wants an extra twenty with the pair of you. Take five and head back.”

They don’t argue, but I can see their furrowed brows like matching marks on their faces. Still, something with the new coach must be going right, because they’ve never been cleaner on the ice together.

“Everyone else, get some rest.”

I start to undress, slow as I remove my padding. Rhys slots in next to me, already half naked and dripping with sweat.

“All right?” I ask, because if he’s not smiling post-practice my stomach sinks with the worry that I’ve missed something—again. That my best friend is drowning again and I’m not taking care of him.

“What?” he asks, half-distracted. “Oh, yeah—I’m good.” He offers a dimpled grin and warm brown eyes. “Are you headed home?”

“After this? Yes.”

“I think Ro and Sadie are already drunk.” Freddy snorts, smacking a hand on Rhys’s shoulder. “Hence why our captain is losing his usually calm demeanor.”

“I’m losing my usually calm demeanor”—he mimics Freddy’s teasing tone—“because I haven’t had a minute alone with my girlfriend in weeks.”

My brow furrows. “Why?”

“Liam has been having nightmares.” His face is serious, slightly heartbroken as he speaks softly about Sadie’s youngest brother. “It’s . . . it’s not going well. And Oliver is . . . adjusting to my parent’s house. He’s too grown up for his own good.”

He checks his phone again, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the sky with a whispered curse. I know it’s something from his girlfriend as he mutters, “One more goddamn photo, Gray,” he mutters, before tossing the offending device in his backpack while Freddy laughs.

“You coming with us, Reiner?” Freddy asks, stripped down to his boxers as he turns for the showers without even waiting for my answer.

Rhys looks at me. “You’re more than welcome to. It would be nice, all of us together.”

There’s a moment of hesitation where I want to say yes—if only to be nearer to them. But I know the pain being the fifth wheel brings. I experience it at every family breakfast, even when I’m happy to see them happy and taken care of. But this might be too much.

“You guys go ahead,” I say. “I’ve got a huge project to get ahead on.”

It takes me twice as long to do my routine, so I haven’t even showered by the time they’re leaving, dressed for the bars downtown. Both smiling. Both incandescently happy.

I can’t be mad, it’s not fair to them—to be mad at their happiness?

It doesn’t stop the longing, the pain in my chest like a wound, hollowed out and scarred over—but still so tender even just a graze against it is enough to send my hurt spiraling into memories.

The locker room is nearly cleared out by the time I’m done with my postgame ritual, before I start on cleaning my gear and pads, stacking them carefully as I always do.

Not always. The thought comes unbidden, and unwanted. It draws me to my bag, unzipping it to grab my phone like muscle memory fused with tremors of anxiety as I check for a text that I don’t want to see as much as I do.

Nothing.

I take it as a sign that I’m safe to shower before dressing and grabbing my bag to head toward the nearly empty parking lot with a slap to Coach Harris’s office door to tell him the locker room is cleared.

It isn’t until I’ve pulled into the driveway of the Hockey House that my phone lights up in the cupholder.

A text, not a call—which could be better or worse.