I slammed into him.
For five seconds on that ice, I wasn’t Tristan Baptiste, nice guy, the angel on everyone’s shoulder. I was violent and bloodthirsty, and fuck me, it felt good.
Coach yelled at me for the retaliatory penalty, and the rest of the game was a blur. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t stop thinking about her, the way she’d said she was fine when I knew she wasn’t.
We won, barely. I changed faster than I ever had, my hands shaking as I tied my shoes.
“Baptiste, you’re on press,” Coach called.
“Not today, Coach,” I said, standing and grabbing my bag.
Coach raised an eyebrow.
“Checking on Eva,” I said, dragging Cole out of the locker room.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We’re taking your car,” I snapped. “Eva hasn’t responded all day.”
His expression darkened. “Go.”
The drive felt endless. Every red light, every slow car, made me want to crawl out of my skin. Eva might not have forgiven me, but she’d been sending me her meals faithfully for the last few days.
Eva’s dad was in the driveway when we pulled up, clearly heading out to work. He saw us get out, and his jaw set in anger.
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“She’s not answering her phone,” I said. “We’re worried.”
“She’s been sick for two days. She couldn’t go to class today.”
“We just want to check on her,” Cole said quietly.
Mr. Jackson studied us, conflicted. “She made it pretty clear she wants nothing to do with you two.”
“I know.” Cole’s voice was rough. “But I can’t— I need to know she’s okay.” He took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Can we start over? My name’s Cole Carter, and I am not my father.”
Mr. Jackson’s expression softened slightly before he accepted Cole’s hand. “She’s so fucking stubborn. I have toleave for my shift, and I don’t want to leave her alone like this.”
“We’ll stay,” I said immediately. “All night, if we have to.”
Conrad looked at us both for a long moment then unlocked the door. “Come inside. I’ll make you coffee.”
His hands shook as he measured the grounds. He caught Cole noticing.
“Three weeks sober,” he offered quietly. “Since just before Eva’s accident. My sponsor says the shakes last a while.”
Cole went very still beside me.
“Eva doesn’t know yet,” Conrad continued. “She’s got enough on her plate.”
Cole nodded, his jaw tight. “Getting sober is hard as hell. You should tell her. She deserves good news too.”
Conrad pressed his lips together, frustration written across his face, then grabbed his jacket. “Spare key’s in the kitchen drawer. She’s going to give you hell for being here.”
“We can take it,” I said. We’d earned worse.
Then, he was gone, and we were alone with the weight of what we were about to do—force our care on a woman who’d made it clear she didn’t want it.