12. Grayson

12

GRAYSON

F ucking Cruz Martinez again. Winking at Micah, fucking flirting with Ava and letting her use his phone…was this his game plan? To make them drop their guards so he could strike? I studied him as I would do with one of my opponents on the rink. Cataloged all the little details, the tells that could give me an advantage.

My head spun when the realization hit me right in the chest. He was just as confused by this whole situation as we were. How was that even possible?

I acted on instinct, stepping forward and gripping his wrist without any thought. I heard Ava's and Micah's sharp intakes of breath, but I ignored them for now, using my strength and the advantage of surprise to shove Cruz up against the wall of the hockey house.

"Tell me you're not fucking with us. I don't give a shit what your connections are, if you're sucking Big Dog's dick for protection or whatever—none of that is gonna help you if it turns out you're behind those texts," I bit out through gritted teeth.

Cruz's eyes widened for a second, and then his lip curled into a sneer. "I don't know what you've been smoking, Cross, but you should talk to your supplier about your delusions. Why the fuck would I make this kind of shit up?" He yanked his wrist out of my grip and shoved at me, sending me staggering backward. Pain radiated through my ribs, a visceral reminder of his earlier attack. "Just because you're on your knees for your teammates doesn't mean I'm sucking off Big Dog."

"What the fuck!" I shoved him back. I'd already gone up against him once tonight, but I was fully prepared to do it again if I needed to. This asshole needed to stop running his mouth before he said something I'd make him regret.

"Gray!" The shout from my right had my head whipping around, seeing light spilling from the now open door of the house. Smith's hulking figure filled the space, his arms outstretched in what I hoped was a welcome and not a "why the fuck are you starting trouble with Blackwell Lake U's bad boy right outside our house?"

"Smith." I raised my hand in greeting before turning to give Cruz a savage warning look. He rolled his eyes, mimed zipping his lips shut, and then pushed off the side of the house, sauntering over to Ava and Micah, who were in a huddle next to his car.

I couldn't let them leave. Not now. We'd all received those texts, and it would take all four of us to get to the bottom of this situation.

"Hey, Smith." My voice rose so everyone could hear my words. "Micah, Ava, and Cruz thought they'd check out the hockey house. See how the other half live." I plastered on a smug grin that I hoped to fuck he'd buy.

"Micah." Smith nodded at him before giving Ava an appreciative, borderline leering glance and Cruz a disdainful one that made me bristle. Okay, Cruz was an asshole, and I'd love nothing more than for him to disappear, but as far as Smith knew, he was my guest and therefore he should at least attempt to be polite. Also, fuck him for checking out Ava like she was one of the girls that threw themselves at the hockey team. My fists clenched at my sides, and I breathed in and out through my nose, reminding myself that those weren't good enough reasons to punch a teammate and friend.

"Hi, Smith." Micah greeted him politely, stepping up next to me. Of course, he'd been to the hockey house a number of times, what with his dad being our coach and him being the de facto college photographer. If I thought about it, I could even recall a time when he'd come over to take "candid" photos of the hockey team eating breakfast together. We'd been there for hours, and I was fucking sick of the sight of omelets after that torturous event.

"Can't wait to get the grand tour of the famous home of the Barracudas." Cruz shoved past me, stepping through the front door as Smith moved backward, the sarcasm in his voice dialed up to the max.

"You're not getting a tour," I hissed, hurrying after him, beckoning Ava and Micah urgently with my hand. I heard the door close behind them, and I breathed out, glad that they were here with me.

Since when had Ava and Micah become a comfort? This whole situation was so fucked up.

"Hey, man. You should invite your friends to our Halloween party. We could use some new blood." From his position at the kitchen island, Miller raised his glass in a mocking salute. His face said it all. Disbelief, curiosity, a little disdain—probably for Cruz.

"We'll be there," Ava snapped as I steered my three uninvited guests through the kitchen, her shoulders straight and her head held high. She looked so fucking gorgeous in that moment, my breath caught in my throat.

"We will, will we?" Cruz drawled, too quiet for anyone outside our little group to hear.

Ava and Micah exchanged glances, and Micah nodded firmly. I didn't like this telepathic thing they had going on—not at all—and from the look on Cruz's face, he was about as impressed by it as I was.

Focus, Grayson . The only important thing was getting to the bottom of the texts. With that in mind, I picked up the pace, managing to get the three of them up the stairs and down the hallway to my room without anyone else accosting us. When the door was closed and locked behind us, I exhaled, a little of the tension seeping from my shoulders.

I looked around the room, taking it in with fresh eyes, trying to picture how the others might see it. There was the huge bed in shades of blues dominating the space—because I liked my comfort. Then there were my desk and shelves with my laptop and books, my drawers and wardrobe, and a love seat that had replaced the smaller chair I'd accidentally snapped the leg of in my sophomore year—clearly it hadn't been designed to take the weight of a hockey player. I'd made a half-hearted attempt to make the bare white walls less plain with a Barracudas pennant, a few posters, and some photos. The only other thing on the walls was a large noticeboard that I had bought with good intentions, but barely even used.

I hadn't put much effort into the decor, and it showed. A couple of lamps casting a soft glow made the room look more welcoming, but with three people I wasn't sure how to deal with in my private space, it all suddenly felt lacking.

"What the fuck am I doing here?" Cruz broke the silence, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

Now it was my turn to exchange glances with Ava and Micah, and I knew for a fact we were all on the same page.

"These texts," I began. "As far as we know, only the four of us have received them. We don't know who the sender is, or why they're sending these messages. Cruz…" I paused after speaking his name, the sound of it unfamiliar on my lips. He seemed as uncomfortable as I was, grimacing and shifting on his feet. "Cruz," I repeated, after sucking in a breath. "What happened at the lake last summer? We need to hear it from your point of view and compare our experiences. Maybe then we can find something to tie it all together. Because I don't know about you, but the rest of us are at a fucking loss."

He shook his head impatiently. "I don't know why. If I did, do you think I'd be here?"

"Okay. You don't know why. None of us knows why. But what did you see? D-did you see the—the hand in the water?" A shiver went down my spine, and I stuttered over my words as that night once again replayed itself in detail in my brain. A heavy silence fell over the room, Ava and Micah also caught up in the memories we all wished we could forget. Memories that were something out of a nightmare. Memories that shouldn't have been real, but were.

Fuck .

Cruz's eyes flashed with fire, hostility radiating from him as he stared me down, but I refused to break his stare.

We needed to know what he saw.