Wicked Restless (Harper Boys #2)(111)

I’m in a haze for most of the final minutes, my mind on rapid-fire in search of a way to get Andrew out of this, something I could dangle as an incentive to deter him, a trick to keep him out of that ring and away from that gym Sunday night. But he wouldn’t fall for it, and I don’t want to trick him.

I wait as the crowd clears out, moving over to the small exit near the bench where Andrew told me to wait for him before the game. He and Trent are two of the first to leave. I notice a group of girls hovering above the bench waiting for the players to exit; they begin to maneuver their way closer. Andrew brushes by them, scooping me up against his side, his body warm from the shower he just took.

I kiss him hard, my hands grabbing at his face, and as I pull away, I stare down a pair of twins eyeing him. Andrew follows my gaze, then looks back to me, pressing his forehead against mine as he chuckles.

“They’re not here for me,” he says. “The chicks always swarm for Trent. They know which one of us is going to make NHL bank one day.”

“I don’t know, those twins were making googley eyes at you. I think you’re selling yourself short,” I say.

“Twins? Where?” he jokes, jerking away from me to look, but coming back quickly, leaning me back in his arms with a possessive kiss, the roughness of his stubble scratching sweetly against my cold cheeks and chin.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he says, taking my hand in his, weaving his fingers through mine, his eyes watching our connection before dropping his hand between us. “That will never get old,” he grins.

We walk to his car, dropping his gear in the trunk and waiting for Trent to take his compliments from his fan girls and catch up. Trent insists I take the front seat, and we make the short trip home, the conversation centered on their three-to-one win over Ohio State.

There’s an actual skip to Andrew’s step as he walks up to his apartment, and it makes me smile seeing it. He’s happy, and his body can’t help but reflect it. He keeps rehashing plays on the ice with Trent, and his friend gives Andrew credit where it’s wholly deserved.

Their celebrating carries over as we get inside, and Trent walks into their kitchen, opening the fridge wide as he talks with his back to us, giving Andrew enough time to tug me to him, then lean me over and kiss me hard.

“Well shit! That’s the problem with always going to Majerle’s to celebrate our wins, we’re never prepared with beer to celebrate at home. There’s only one left,” Trent says, twisting the cap and turning around just in time to catch us in a full-on make-out session. “Or maybe you don’t need beer to celebrate,” he chuckles, pressing the bottle to his mouth and drinking.

“Shut up,” Andrew says, taking his keys back out of his pocket. “I’ll run to the store. I’ll be back in five minutes. You want anything…I don’t know…girly?”

“I like beer,” I blush.

His eyebrows lift in a teasing way, but he pulls my chin close and dusts my lips with a kiss, smiling and winking before he leaves. I watch the door close, then I shiver once at the realization he’s gone. Even here in the safety of his home—with his roommate who I know won’t hurt me—I immediately feel vulnerable. I never thought Graham would hurt me. But he did. And I hate that I feel so dependent on Andrew for safety.

I turn to Trent and hug my body, my lips in a tight smile. He sits on the back of the sofa, and I relax a little with the distance between us. I think Trent senses my edginess, and I know he at least has an idea of what happened with Graham. I’m sure Andrew’s talked to him, and my bruises are still very much on display. I’ve quit looking in mirrors. I don’t like what I’m reminded of when I do.

“Andrew is crazy about you, you know,” Trent says, light laughter coming out as he looks down at his feet before raising an eyebrow at me. “You in this as much as he is?”

I hold his stare, then nod yes. He begins to nod with me.

“Good,” he says, looking back down. “That’s good.”

I move to the stool by their counter in the kitchen, sliding it out enough to sit on top and rest my head on my hands. As safe as I feel here, I’m still not okay—I’m miles from okay. When Andrew’s gone, all I see are Graham’s lips curl into an evil grin, smoke trailing around his whiskers. I feel my skin burn from everywhere he touched, and I try to replace it with the feel of Andrew.

What holds me hostage, though, is the knowledge that it isn’t over—that Graham isn’t over. Andrew is going to face him, and I want to be there to keep him safe. But I can’t—my body and heart literally wouldn’t survive being in Graham’s presence. I’m afraid one more look at him and my nightmare would never leave.

“Did he tell you about his fight?” I ask, unable to fully look at him. I feel like I’m sharing secrets behind Andrew’s back.

“He did,” Trent says, and I glance up to see his mouth paused open, like he wants to protest the fight too. But he doesn’t, instead biting at his bottom lip and shaking his head.

“Don’t let him,” I beg, my voice breaking when I ask, and my eyes burning from tears. The emotion hits me fast; I pull my sleeves up over my wrists and push them into my eyes, squeezing them shut tightly until I can speak again with composure, without my voice feeling weak and frantic. I clear my throat and look down. “He’ll listen to you, Trent. Please,” I whisper.