Shut Out (Bayard Hockey #1)(62)

I’d heard other guys talk about group sex. I’d fantasized about it. Every guy fantasizes about a threesome with two girls, or even the odd orgy. Here was my chance to actually experience it.

But deep inside me, I must have known it wasn’t the right thing to do. She was eighteen years old and a little drunk and we were three big, strong guys. It was a crazy position to put herself in. I asked her if she was sure that was what she wanted and she laughed and said of course. Then I tried to tell the guys we shouldn’t be doing it, but Brittany was already taking her clothes off and grabbing at Ace, and there was no stopping her. I’m now willing to admit I felt misgivings, which was why I left. And then she accused us all of raping her.

I guess I’ll never know what really happened. Maybe she changed her mind and didn’t want to go through with it, but if she had, I’d like to think my teammates would have stopped. I don’t think they were so drunk that they wouldn’t have realized she wanted to stop…were they? I’d also like to think they weren’t such *s that if she’d asked them to stop they wouldn’t have. I asked them outright if she’d changed her mind, and they denied it, and I want to believe them, but I wasn’t there so I’ll never really know.

Guilt and doubts come crashing back on me, making my stomach roll, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

I’d been bitter because it was Ace and Crash who’d had sex with her, but I was punished along with them. I kept telling myself I was an innocent bystander, and because I’d gotten the hell out of there, it was nothing to do with me. But now the word “bystander” has a whole different meaning.

I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve put a stop to it. I know that now.

I slump into my chair and lean my head back. I guess this is the moment I’m supposed to have. It’s why I’m here. To f*cking learn from my mistakes. And thanks to Skylar, I guess I have.

Skylar.

Her friend raped her. It makes me want to punch something. And now she and her best friend have had a huge fight over it. Skylar’s been worried about Ella, about her emotional state, and wow, now we know Ella was secretly in love with Brendan—no wonder she was so devastated by his death. But it pisses me off that Ella blames Skylar for Brendan’s death. He was the one who screwed up and probably—hopefully—felt guilty about it. He was the one who took his own life, perhaps because of it. But Ella doesn’t know that.

What a mess.

I try once more to focus on Hooke’s law, but a feeling of hot pressure is building inside me. Too much. Too much to do. Too much to think about. Too many emotions I don’t want to feel.

I close my eyes and suck in a long breath. Having Skylar as my fake girlfriend was supposed to help so I’d be able to focus on hockey and school. It wasn’t supposed to mess me up even more.

Skylar is right. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal. I don’t need all this. I need to be focused, most of all on my hockey so the scouts who are coming to games this year are taking notice of me, and for the right reasons. I have to get drafted this year, which means fulfilling my part of the deal with Bayard—staying out of trouble and getting decent grades.

A panicky pressure swells inside me. Yeah, I can’t deal with this. I should throw up my hands and back off and let her deal with her problems. I recognize this is selfish…but Jesus, I’ve got my own problems and goals. I can’t deal with all of her problems too.





Chapter 23


Skylar


It’s definitely hard to focus at work. I screw up a couple orders, which probably loses me tips that I need. I can’t stop thinking about it all—how upset Ella was this morning, how horrible that night with Brendan was, how sympathetic and understanding Jacob was.

I never wanted to tell him about that. I never wanted to tell anyone about it. I told Frances, the counselor I saw, and that was it. But now I realize this is a huge secret I’ve been carrying around, and it’s been the wall between Ella and me all along.

And now she knows.

But she doesn’t know all of it. Jacob thinks I should tell her the truth. I go back and forth over this in my mind, trying to figure out what to do. What the consequences of telling her would be, good or bad. What the consequences of not telling her would be.

Taisha nudges me. “Hey, girl, table twelve is trying to get your attention.”

“What? Huh?” I look around. “Oh!” Damn, I promised them their check ten minutes ago. I hurry over to leave it on the table, apologizing profusely. Their frowns tell me that’s another tip lost.

I sigh and move to the next table to see if they need anything else. They ask for refills of ice water. “Sure thing.”

I walk back to the kitchen, but on the way I get stopped by another table, asking for more syrup for their pancakes, which I quickly get for them.

I lean against the counter, lost in my thoughts again. My stomach is a mass of twisted nerves. I pick at a hangnail on my thumb until it’s bleeding. I thought I was getting past the guilt and grief, but it’s all swelling up inside me, making me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I can’t stand feeling this way, but I don’t know what to do about it.

Maybe I need to make another appointment with Frances.

Or maybe I need to take a few minutes and remember some of the strategies she taught me, about controlling my breathing, controlling my thoughts, my self-talk.