Page 90 of Undone

“Are you insane? Let him go!”

“No—” I gasp out, my muscles weak, painful. I can’t hold him anymore. I feel drained, like someone pulled out my stopper and I’m swirling down a drain. “You don’t get it, Holden. He’s . . . he—”

“Let me guess,” LaBlanc says, shaking off my hands and stepping away from where my defensive partner is holding me up. “My daughter is blaming me for her own problems again, hmm? Do I have that right?”

“You have no idea how fucked-up that is. She needs someone to help her. And you always make it worse, you always have.”

“Wrong,” LaBlanc snaps. Then, his face shifts and molds, the easy mask he always wears melting away, painting his features with pure, undiluted, and barely restrained rage. “I have helped her. Repeatedly.”

“You haven’t helped shit—”

“I am fixing it!” he shouts, making Holden flinch where he’s still holding me—back or up, I don’t know. LaBlanc straightens his jacket and smooths his hair back. “Stay away from her, Kane. You’ll just ruin her like you ruin everything else.”

And then he turns and leaves, never turning back for even a moment as I keep shouting after him until my throat is sore and my eyes are red-rimmed from holding back tears.

Chapter 35

Toren

“Are you going to say something?”

There’s a timid frown on Holden’s face as he pulls out of the arena parking lot. He’d offered to drive me, leaving my bike behind overnight, but I knew the cost of that help. And it was worth it. I should’ve told him a long time ago.

“Can we do it after?” I say, pressing my fingers into my eyes and rubbing at them.

“Were you just never going to tell me?” he asks, a hidden slip of vulnerability from behind his ire. “I feel really fucking stupid right now.”

I nod, grimacing. “I’m sorry. I just . . . It’s hard for me to talk about.”

“Lily is his daughter. That’s how you know her?”

It’s not exactly right. Knowing Lily is how I know LaBlanc, but that’s somehow more complicated to explain, so I nod.

“Yeah . . . he was my coach when I was growing up. At, um, at Walden Prep.”

Holden’s eyes shoot wide and he cuts a turn a little sharply.

“You were a fucking Ivy League prep school hockey player?” A bark of a laugh and then, “How did I not know about this?”

I shrug, tapping my hand against the handle of the passenger door. “Surprised you didn’t. It was . . . everywhere, I guess.” The news outlets that covered my “scandal” loved mentioning the prep school that had so graciously taken me in. The kid from the wrong side of town on scholarship to one of the nation’s leading preparatory academies.

There’s a strange look across Holden’s face, something hidden as he chews on his lip and avoids my eyes for the first time the entire car ride, actually focusing on the road. “Yeah, I didn’t read anything about you from before.”

“What?”

“I just knew you hit Rhys, but only ’cause I was there.” Another slight shrug to his shoulders. “I didn’t— I don’t know. I wanted to have my opinion. I figured maybe we’d be friends and then you’d tell me.”

It’s unsettling, even more so when I remember that Holden has been by my side, has heard the chirps the more dastardly opponents try to use against me.

Shouldn’t you be in a prison cell?

C’mon, Kane—I thought you loved to fight? Or is that a family-only occasion?

You don’t wanna hit me? Says the guy who beat the shit out of his brothers and girlfriend?

Was she sleeping with them?

I heard she’s so scarred from it she doesn’t show her face in public anymore.