3. Micah

3

MICAH

G rayson stepped closer to me, his arm brushing against mine, and I breathed out. Even though I'd usually rather be anywhere than in his proximity, his solid, warm body was a reassuring presence. My eyes met Ava's, hers wide and filled with fear, and I held out my hand. Although we hadn't spoken since that night, I had an urge to comfort her, to take care of her. I knew she was strong, but I'd always felt a need to look out for her, from the time we'd first become friends at the beginning of freshman year, when we'd both been at the same house party. I'd thrown a punch at a freshman who didn't want to take no for an answer from her. He'd swung at me, sending me to the floor, but the pain was worth it. The commotion had brought others running to investigate, and Ava had helped me to the kitchen to ice my jaw, thanking me profusely. She'd kissed me, too…only on the cheek, but her lips had been so fucking soft, and I'd wanted her to kiss me properly ever since. But we were just friends…or had been, until the night on the lake, and I knew she'd never see me as anything more. She was way out of my league, bright and beautiful, just like Grayson. Watching them together now, they looked like the perfect couple—the hot hockey god and his gorgeous blonde sorority girl.

Fuck, I really needed to stop comparing myself to Grayson Cross. My dad did way too much of that already. Since the party where I'd been taken down so easily, I'd begun training, attending martial arts classes and honing my strength at the campus gym in the early hours when it was quiet. I knew that although I almost matched Grayson in height, give or take an inch, physically, he was stronger and bigger than I was. But I had speed. I could take out opponents bigger than I was when I was sparring on the mat. Grayson had skills on the ice, but I had other talents.

It was too bad that they were worthless in my dad's eyes.

"Micah." Ava was suddenly in my arms, her body shaking against mine. I held her tightly, meeting Grayson's gaze over the top of her head. His expression was impossible to read, his jaw clenched tightly and his blue-gray eyes shuttered as he stared at me from beneath his dark lashes.

"It's going to be okay," I told Ava, rubbing my hands up and down her back as I held Grayson's gaze. I was lying to all of us. The messages we'd received, each individually targeted, were sick and twisted, and they'd left us shaken. That night on the lake…I wished I'd never stepped foot inside that boat. I wished even more that I hadn't dragged Ava with me. Even though she'd been the one to reassure me it was all going to be okay, her involvement in this nightmare was all my fault. She knew what my dad was like. Why had I let my guilt get the better of me? All I could hear at the time was my dad's voice inside my head, telling me to make an effort with the team, to take an interest in the sport that meant everything to him, to be more like Grayson fucking Cross. That was the one and only reason I'd stepped onto that boat. Well, that, and the fact that if anything happened to one of my dad's precious hockey players out on the lake, it was highly likely that my dad would somehow find a way to make me take the blame.

"Martinez. Where does he live? Who does he hang out with?" Grayson eventually spoke up, his voice low. "This fucking asshole thinks he can threaten us with these messages, but we won't let him get away with it."

The steel in his tone let me breathe again. "It's going to be okay," I repeated, and this time, I meant it. "I did an article on him once for the school website. I don't know where he lives, but I know that he's usually at the track on Friday nights. He likes to race."

Grayson nodded. "Okay. We've got a home game at six. You'll be there, right?"

I sighed. "Not like I have a choice. Yeah, I'll be there, covering it for the website, as usual, as if I have nothing better to do with my time."

He raised a brow. "You don't like hockey? But your dad?—"

"I'm a fucking disappointment to him," I bit out before shaking my head. "Forget that. It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about him. Ever. I'll be there. Ava?"

She pulled back from me, biting down on her pouty lower lip. Damn, she was so beautiful.

"I guess I could come. Be a hockey fan for the night. Go Barracudas!" She raised her fist unenthusiastically, and Grayson laughed.

"Want me to get you a jersey with my name on it for the game, baby?"

"Hell no!" she snapped, turning to him. "That's how rumors start, and I have no interest in being a target for the legions of thirsty bitches that want a piece of Grayson Cross."

"Okay, okay. I was only joking." He glanced at me, a question in his eyes, and I shrugged. Raising his brows, he turned back to her. "What did you mean by that comment? What rumors? No one's gonna think you're one of those girls."

"They already do," she muttered under her breath, shooting me a pleading look. Yeah, I knew how she felt. We both wanted to get away from Grayson Cross.

"Ava. You can sit with me if you want. Sometimes I have someone come with me to take notes while I photograph the game. If I get you a press pass, you can come as my plus-one. We won't be bothered by the puck bunnies."

She shot me a small smile. "Okay. Thanks, Micah."

"Anytime." I tugged her into me again, relishing the feel of her slim body and soft curves against mine, and noted with satisfaction the way Grayson's eyes darkened as he watched the two of us together. "Friday night, then. We go to the game, and when it's over?—"

"We find Cruz Martinez, and we make him fucking pay," Grayson finished.