Fearless King

by Hughes, Maya

  Eventually the morning sun streaked through the curtains. Nothing.

  Talk about fucking things up in five seconds flat.

  * * *

  “Ford, get your head in the game.” Our coach’s voice boomed across the ice.

  Emmett skated over to me, stopping short, sending a sharp spray of ice showering over me. “Wake up, man. What’s up with you today?”

  “Got a lot on my mind.” Like the fact that even though I’d sent the text at three in the morning, Liv still hadn’t replied. We’d been on the road for three days, and it was another two before I’d be back home. Back when we used to text, I’d always gotten an immediate reply.

  That was a good thing, right? She wasn’t still hung up on me. Distancing myself had worked, maybe too well, but at least this meant we’d be able to hang out and talk without anything other than platonic feelings—if she talked to me at all. So why was I counting down the minutes until I could get to the locker room to see if she’d replied?

  “Earth to Ford!” Heath knocked on my helmet.

  My head snapped up, and I lifted my face mask. “Would everyone just leave me alone?”

  “Dude, you’re spacing big-time. You coming down with something?”

  I batted his hand away as he feigned concern, trying to feel my forehead. “Everyone back off. I’ve got some stuff to handle, that’s all.”

  “Maybe if you came out of your shell, we could help you, little hermit crab.” Emmett leaned against the goal.

  Glaring at him, I shoved my mask back down. “Nothing I can’t handle. Would you two get back out there to practice and stop stalling over here with me?” I pushed my thoughts about Liv, the text, and my phone deep down until practice was over.

  Throwing on my T-shirt in the shower stall, I trudged out into the locker room and sat to put on my shoes.

  “I could barely see straight, she was such a fucking vacuum on my dick.” The words of our resident team asshole, Axel, carried across the bustling room like nails on a chalkboard.

  Gritting my teeth, I shoved my feet into my sneakers.

  “I was actually going to call her again, but she sent me a text the next day. Talk about needy.” Axhole’s voice grated on my nerves.

  My jaw popped. It was one thing to sleep around, and I’d been there. It was another to scream about your conquests from the rooftops like a braying jackass.

  “Maybe I’ll bang—”

  “Maybe you should shut the hell up!” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and everyone in the locker room froze. It might as well have been filled with mannequins. “Why do you think everyone wants to hear this shit, man? No one wants to hear about you being an asshole twenty-four-seven.”

  “What the hell is it to you?” Axel shot up from the bench and glared at me.

  “Just shut up about it.” I stood and grabbed my duffel off the floor. “We already know you’re a douche—no need to announce it to the entire locker room every chance you get.”

  “Just because puck bunnies only sleep with you because they feel sorry for you doesn’t mean you’ve got to shit on everyone else’s good time.” He got right up in my face.

  Adrenaline from our practice pumped through my veins. I was seconds from knocking him on his ass. “Shouting to everyone within earshot about the kind of garbage you are and how you treat women shows everyone exactly the kind of boy you are.”

  He shoved both hands into the center of my chest. The back of my knee hit the bench, and I stumbled. Whipping back around with my fists ready to knock that smug smile off his face, my arm was jerked back a split second before my fist connected.

  Glaring behind me, I tensed my muscles in Heath’s grip. His whole arm wrapped around mine. Emmett and Declan descended, and their hands tightened around my arms and shoulders, getting between us.

  “You’re lucky we’re here,” Emmett ground out at Axel. “If we weren’t, you’d be down a couple of teeth before the next game even started.”

  “You need your friends to fight your battles for you, Ford?” Axel taunted behind the wall of guys.

  Heath held on to me, and Declan pushed me back. “Don’t do it. You hit him and you’re not playing the next game. We need you.” Declan then turned to Axel. “You’d be lucky if you loosened one of his teeth, but you wouldn’t be walking out of here on your own two legs if we hadn’t stepped in. Back up, Axel.” His words cooled my temper. Letting the guys down was the last thing I wanted to do, even if it meant I couldn’t beat the shit out of Axhole.

  Shaking off their holds, I slammed my lips shut tight and breathed deeply to get myself under control. I slung my bag over my head and stormed out of the locker room. On the team bus, my blood slowed to a dull pounding from the raging drumbeat it had escalated to back inside. Close quarters were a bitch when we were on the road. At least Axel was smart enough to sit at the front of the bus, and the drive to the hotel was quiet. I pulled on my headphones and kept them on until I got to my room.

  My phone buzzed in my duffel the second the door closed behind me. I fished it out and stared at the screen.

  Liv: Wrong person?

  I ran my hand over my face. Three days later and that was what I got. Damn, things were worse than I’d thought. If only she knew how many drafts I’d gone through to send that to her, and she didn’t even think I’d meant to send it at all.

  Me: It was meant for you

  Liv: Oh…

  Me: We’re back on Thursday. We could do something?

  Liv: Are the guys having another dinner?

  Me: No, I meant just me and you

  Liv: Why?

  Me: Why not?

  Liv: I don’t think that should need an explanation. You made it all abundantly clear.

  My fingers hovered over the screen, the words that were already so hard to come stalling worse than ever.

  Liv: You’ve been a ghost for the last year and a half and avoided me at all costs. I got the message.

  I tapped on her name. She picked up on the fifth ring, like she’d contemplated not picking up at all. My heart slammed against my ribs.

  “Hello?”

  I smiled at the hesitant sound in her voice. “Hello? Yes, it’s me. Why are you acting like we weren’t just having a text conversation?”

  “Because you haven’t called me in years.”

  My mouth went dry, and I ran my fingers along my hairline. She had me there. “I’m calling you now.” And I shouldn’t have been. Grant would be crushed if he knew and Colm would never forgive me if it went beyond a friendly check-in, but I couldn’t stop wanting her—even if it was just to talk. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  “Did you hit your head at practice?”

  I drummed the hotel pen against the bed. “What? No. Why would you say that?”

  Because she’s pissed you’re calling her.

  “Do you suddenly think it’s two years ago and I should jump up and down like a happy puppy because you called?”

  “Liv—” I squeezed the base of my neck.

  “Don’t Liv me, Ford. You’re the one who made these rules. We’ve been playing by them just fine. Why are you changing them now?” I envisioned the angry crease in her forehead between her eyebrows.

  “I never made any rules.”

  “Then why have you avoided me?” She spoke to me like I was Hannibal Lecter inviting her over for dinner.

  “Can’t we have a cordial conversation?”

  “Fine.” The word jumped out through gritted teeth. “How was practice? Ready for your game?” Her pleasant tone was like whiplash.

  “The usual. Why haven’t you come to any games this season? I’m surprised Colm hasn’t reserved a sky box for you.”

  “He has, though I keep telling him not to. I can’t make it, but you know how he can be. Once he gets something stuck in his head, he’s a pit bull who refuses to let go.”

  Didn’t I know it. It had been years since Felicity and he still acted like it had happene
d just the day before.

  “He loves wasting money. My nights are usually booked.”

  That perked up my ears. “Doing what?” If you say boyfriend, I’ll only die a little.

  “Stuff. School stuff and classes.”

  Relief washed over me. “You have classes late at night?” Was she okay walking to and from campus? I knew she lived off campus now because Colm had sent me the address.

  “Study sessions and other things.” Her cageyness had my spidey senses tingling.

  “What kinds of things?”

  “What’s up with you calling me and asking a thousand questions?”

  I cleared my throat. “I figured with Colm away, you might need someone to talk to.”

  “I do not need another person breathing down my neck every second of the day, okay? Colm’s only been back in town since September and I was just fine without him. It didn’t bother you before that I might need someone to talk to. I don’t need you taking pity on me like a high school kid who’s been left alone while my parents are out of town.” Her words poured out of her like a volcanic eruption.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “How is it? You don’t get to kiss another woman five seconds after I’ve kissed you, then tell me to get lost. You can’t just text out of the blue, then call me and start grilling me.”

  “I’m not grilling you, and I didn’t tell you to get lost that night.”

  “You might as well have.” Her voice drifted off.

  “It’s not like you didn’t get in a little payback.” The way Grant had rolled into the hotel room gloating about his date with Liv, I’d wanted to knock him out—my own brother, who I’d protected since he was born.

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Grant wasn’t payback. We just went on a couple of dates.” Her voice rose an octave.

  A couple dates too many. “Maybe, but he doesn’t think of it that way.”

  “He said that.” Her words were low and whispered.

  “He asked me to find out how you’re doing. It wasn’t a one-and-done thing with him, Liv.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

  “I… It was never anything serious.”

  “But he’s still my brother.” My jaw clenched. It was a line that wasn’t crossed, just like not dating your best friend’s sister.

  “And Colm’s still my brother. Why make this harder, Ford? We’ve been getting along fine since then.”

  “As in not at all.”

  “I like to think of it as a cold war.”

  “Can we hit pause or reset or something? Colm’s injured and in LA. He’s gone for a while. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m great, and I don’t need a nanny.”

  “That’s not what—”

  “I could use a friend, though. If you decide you’re up for that task, you know my number.”

  The call ended before I could say another word. Banging the phone against my head, I flopped onto the bed. I could be her friend. I could totally friend the hell out of her. I would get to the bottom of what was going on with her, tell Colm, and then quietly extricate myself from the situation before I crossed a line I shouldn’t—again. I would make sure she wasn’t in trouble, and I would make sure no one else got hurt—except maybe me.

  8

  Liv

  “This is not healthy.” Marisa stood in the doorway to my room.

  “It’s not like I have a choice.” I dropped my pen onto my notebook and stretched my back. The bones cracked all the way down my spine.

  “Of course you have a choice. Fun is also a vital part of college. Remember fun? You’ve been studying nonstop for eight hours straight. I’m tempted to check for a bottle filled with pee under your desk.”

  “Gross! I’m not that bad.”

  “Liv, it’s almost nine p.m.” She jerked her arm out toward my window.

  My head snapped up, and I glanced outside. The glow of the streetlights below and the pitch-black sky were the only things I could see. Two awkward texts to Ford before his flight had been my only break all day before I shut off my phone to avoid distractions.

  The stilted weirdness was still there, but at least he’d stopped with the interrogation.

  “Give me another half an hour.” I spun back around in my chair.

  “No.” She closed my laptop. “My friend Seph told me data proves studying past a certain threshold is actually worse for information retention. Every extra minute you sit in this chair, you’re making it harder for yourself.”

  “You don’t understand what will happen if I don’t ace this test.” I needed to prove I could do it and make my parents and Colm proud.

  She sat on my bed. “Burnout is a real thing, and it’s going to be your future if you don’t slow the hell down.”

  “Slowing down isn’t an option.”

  “You can think about that tomorrow—with a well-rested brain. Come on, Liv. It’ll only be for a couple of hours. LJ’s here. They’re having a party at the Brothel. We go for a couple of hours, then you can run off and sneak in some more hours of studying. You can’t sit by the phone waiting for another text from Ford.”

  “I’m not!” I knew I shouldn’t have told her about that. Waking up to his middle-of-the-night text had screamed booty call to me. My stomach had dropped when I’d rolled over and read the message, not that I didn’t know the deal. Single hockey players weren’t exactly known for their restraint in the bedroom. But apparently it hadn’t been a booty call for someone else.

  “Prove it to me, then.”

  “Ten more minutes.”

  “You’ve been saying that for days. Take a break. Dancing and studying are all you do. Come hang out with me. I miss you.”

  I mentally kicked myself. I wouldn’t get these years back. This was what it was like when you had friends. Making time for them was just as important as studying or work. I’d fallen into the old pattern my parents had modeled for me, and I still had a lot to learn.

  “Okay, I’ll go. Let me get dressed.”

  She threw her arms around my shoulders and squeezed me tight. “Yes! Oh, and the toaster kind of exploded, so we need to buy a new one.”

  “What the hell did you do?” My words stopped her hasty retreat.

  “I didn’t do anything! I turned it on, and the freaking wall outlet started sparking. I grabbed an oven mitt and unplugged it, then left a message with the super.”

  Maybe Colm was right about this place.

  “Hurry up and get dressed or I’ll make you go in that.” Bounding out of the room like a deer hopped up on caffeine, she closed the door behind her.

  Getting outside would be good for me. How the hell did you connect with anyone when working ninety-hour weeks and cramming in vacations on top of surgeries, conferences, and everything else? More than half the pictures in the boxes under my bed had been taken during our annual family trips. Three weeks, six countries—it was the most uninterrupted time we got with our parents, and then they’d disappear for another eleven months.

  Yes, I’m a total asshole for being sad my parents were out saving lives instead of coming to my middle school graduation, my school plays, or anything that didn’t have to do with me wanting to be a doctor, but those aren’t the things a kid should have to worry about. Their parents should be there.

  I threw on the first dress I found and attempted to do something with my hair. A party was the last place I wanted to be, but I’d dragged Marisa to so many dance company parties over the summer, and I owed her. Now she got to do the dragging, and I got to do the moping.

  I turned on my phone: three texts from Colm, one from Grant, and one from Ford. I opened his.

  Ford: Landed. Headed home now.

  The temptation to reply was strong, but I didn’t. I refused to fall back into that pattern of lapping up any bit of attention he threw my way.

  I responded to Colm first.

  Me: Just finished studying for the night. Turning in and turning off my phone so I can catch som
e shut-eye. Talk later?

  Colm: Okay. Proud of you. Love you.

  Then to Grant.

  Me: Hey, Grant, midterms are eating my life right now. I’m heading to bed in a bit.

  Grant: I could bring you some study fuel.

  Me: If I have any more caffeine, I’ll probably launch myself to the moon. Thanks for thinking of me though.

  Grant: Always.

  My stomach knotted. I had to talk to him. Regardless of what happened with Ford, Grant deserved to know there would never be anything between us.

  Opening my bedroom door, I checked myself again in the mirror on my dresser. I walked down the hall. “Can we leave by one? I’d like to wake up before noon. And for the love of God, no shots.”

  I turned the corner at the end of the hallway to the two of them slamming back shots of light brown liquor. Marisa shuddered and set her glass down on the counter, then slid one closer to me. “Just one?”

  LJ picked his beer up off the counter. Marisa served up another shot, licked her hand, and sprinkled on some salt. Lime wedges seesawed on the counter.

  “I’m not holding your hair tonight.” I jabbed a finger in her direction and picked up the glass. “Being bent over behind you is not how I want to end my evening. He can take care of you—right, LJ? You wouldn’t mind being bent over behind her, would you?”

  He choked on his beer, spraying us in a fine mist. He hunched over, holding on to his knees while coughing and sucking in air.

  Marisa grabbed some paper towels and held them out to him, patting him on the back. “Careful, L. I thought you football players knew how to drink.”

  “We do.” His words were choppy and wheezy. “I do. It just went down the wrong pipe.” Wiping the tears from his eyes, LJ thumped on his chest.

  She grabbed her coat off the hook by the door. I snapped a pic of the three of us with my instant camera, then stashed the pic in the photo collage beside the door. The two of them continued to bicker as I put on my coat and we walked downstairs.