Page 86 of Secret Obsession
It’s for those of us who need to rage againstsomething—or, more often than not, someone.
They pass me without comment, disappearing into Finch’s room. The door closes softly behind them, and the high-pitched moans start up almost immediately.
Funny, that.
Ah, well. He’ll learn that puck bunnies like to put on a show. Brush your finger over their tit, and they’ll pretend they’re coming. Learned that one from watching my brother pick up a girl my freshman year. He basically blew her mind, then shoved her toward me.
And then she blewme.
The girl in question turned out to be a bitch named Paris, a grade-A puck bunny with a golden tongue. Too bad she was a raging bitch when her mouth wasn’t full of cock. She’s graduated now, thank God.
I hop to my feet and try the bathroom doorknob. It’s still locked, but we keep a long, slim nail on top of the frame for situations just like these. I run my finger along the top until I find it, then insert it into the little hole in the knob.
It unlocks with aclick, and I replace the nail. Then I enter.
Willow’s arm is stretched out along the edge of the toilet, and her head is resting on it. Her eyes are closed, her breathing even.
Well, shit.
I pick her up, shifting her until her head rolls onto my shoulder. And then I bring her to bed, because… well. Worst pretend boyfriend of the year award goes to me?
She doesn’t wake up, and I don’t try any funky business. She’s already in just my briefs and the band t-shirt she wore today. She didn’t make any attempt to do anything when we got back here. She just crawled into bed, and that lasted about an hour.
And now we’re here.
I continue researching tough-love ways to get her to stop drinking.
She uses it as an escape for the hard shit. Like getting over my brother, or dealing with his betrayal, or anything that requires emotions. Hell, she might even be drinking to conceal how she feels about me.
Not tome, obviously. I’m not stupid. But to herself.
I get a text, drawing my attention from the webpages.
Jacob
You up? I have it.
Yep. Meet you outside?
I loathe leaving her in her sleep—a particular sore point for her—but this is more important. And with the way she’s snoring, I don’t think she’s going to wake up for a few hours.
Be there in 5.
I smile to myself and hop out of bed. I pull shoes on and make my way downstairs, flipping on our porch light. In less than five, Jacob’s truck coasts down the street. I jog down the walkway to meet him.
He rolls down his window. “Do you need help?”
I shake my head. I mean, in theory, probably. But also, I’d rather not risk Willow waking up to Jacob leaning over her. “I heard your explanation last time.”
He frowns. “Okay.”
“Where do you even get this shit?”
“I know a guy.”
Well.
“You know you’re welcome here if you ever want to… hang out.” I cross my arms over my chest, silently cursing my lack of a jacket. We’re supposed to be indestructible hockey players, impervious to cold—or whatever people say about us. Butdamn it, my nipples are going to fall off.
