Page 133 of Secret Obsession
My vision blurs.
Fuck, you’re still crying.
I dash my hands under my eyes and hurry downstairs. The concierge at the front desk is helpful—he finds me a taxi company that’ll take me all the way to my parents’ house. It’s pulling out front in no time at all, and I climb into the backseat with my chest tight.
I can’t seem to take a breath.
But then the taxi rounds the corner away from the hotel, and everything in me releases. The tightness, the guilt. Itsnaps, and all I’m left with is fucking relief.
39
GREYSON
“You okay?”
Vi’s frozen in the middle of the room, staring at her phone. She looks over at me and shakes her head slowly. “Um… Willow’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
Her gaze goes from still to panicked in a second, and she lifts her phone to her ear. Calling her best friend, then.
The girls showing up was certainly a surprise, but one I definitely didn’t mind. We have to be at the rink in fifteen minutes, and Vi’s only half dressed. Not that I’m any better.
I finish the buttons on my shirt and loop my tie around my neck.
“I think she shut her phone off,” she whispers, worry cracking her voice. She turns to face me. “I don’t—”
“Hey, hey.” I wrap my arms around her, my lips automatically finding her neck. Just under her ear. “I’ll go check with Miles. Maybe he knows something.”
She exhales, relaxing into me. “Okay. I’m going to grab Aspen, see if Willow texted her anything.”
“Good idea.” I release her, then duck back in and steal a kiss. Because I can, and because an hour with her before the game just wasn’t enough.
“Tell Steele to meet me at Miles’ room.”
She nods. She quickly pulls her dress back on, shifting so I can zip up the back, and we head out together. She goes in one direction, and I move in the other.
Immediately, my attention snaps to clear focus. Willow running away after driving for-fucking-ever to get here? It seems like too big of a deal. And weird timing.
I draw closer to Miles’ room, and the sound of crashing greets me. It continues, followed by swearing.
Uh-oh.
“Hey,” Steele says, jogging toward me. “What’s going on?”
I hook my thumb at Miles’ door, letting him experience the cacophony of noise for himself. Steele’s brows shoot up.
“Do you have a key to his room? Or should we take our chances knocking?”
“I do,” Knox calls. He’s coming from the opposite direction, although he’s fucking strolling. And he doesn’t look very put out, until he comes to a stop in front of the door. “Jesus, what the fuck is he doing?”
He produces a key card and swipes it. The little light turns green, and Knox shoves the door open.
Inside is total destruction, but we file inside anyway. Knox stares at his brother, who seems like he doesn’t even realize we’re here.
Fuck that.
The bed is off its frame, the desk cracked with the chair on top of it. The lamps that they keep bolted to the nightstands—for good reason—are broken. It’s only then that I spot his hockey stick, in pieces, on the floor at his feet.
