Chapter 13

Mo

I curse as Nico lets another ball sail into the net.

The players lining the bench shoot me a look at my swearing but I don't care. We are one week away from our first tournament and suddenly Nico has become the worst lacrosse goalie I have ever seen in my life. Every single shot that has been taken this practice has gone in.

Even fucking Millard managed to make it past Nico's guard.

Clenching my clipboard until my knuckles turn white, I jerk my head towards the sub sitting on the bench.

"Out on the field. Now."

"But Coach, Nico isn't-

My glare sends him scrambling to his feet and running out onto the field. I watch the interaction go down, Nico taking off his helmet and giving the player a supportive pat on the back before jogging towards the sidelines. He runs right past me without a glance or promiscuous comment and I feel my teeth clench for an entirely different reason.

He's giving me the fucking silent treatment.

The shooting drill resumes and to my relief, the sub does a semi-decent job of keeping the forwards on edge. His technical skills leave a lot to be desired, but the quick reaction time behind each save shows promise.

Despite the improvement in the drill performance, I can't shake off the nagging feeling that there's something more to Nico's behaviour. As immature as he is, radio silence really isn't Nico's signature – hell, he wasn't even silent after that group of farmers lay a beating on him.

The unease itching beneath my skin grows until I finally march over to the bench.

"Montez. I'd like a word."

He doesn't look at me, simply nods and follows me away from the field. As soon as we are out of earshot, I turn to face him and cross my arms.

"What's your problem?"

Nico glances away, "I don't have a problem."

"Then explain to me how a sloth took over your body in the last forty-eight hours because that is the only explanation for your performance today."

A smirk tugs his lips, "Can't say I've ever been compared to a sloth before."

Tilting my head, I wait until those dark eyes meet mine, "Tell me what's going on, Montez."

He sighs but doesn't say another word.

"If this is about what I said the other day…"

Don't you dare apologize.

"…you shouldn't let it mess with your head. I was angry and spoke out of line."

Fuck.

Nico quirks an eyebrow at me, "Was that an apology, Maurice?"

"No." Liar.

He grins, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Snapping my teeth, I glare at him, "I"m just making sure we won"t have to forfeit this weekend's game because our goalie decided to get hung up on his emotions."

"Babe, there were no hard feelings on my end. Your persistence in denying the attraction between us only makes the flames grow stronger." He winks, "As do your sad attempts at pretending you don't care."

I hate him.

"Cut the bullshit, Montez, and tell my what's wrong."

Nico sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Fine. I recently made a discovery about a loved one and I don't know what to do about it."

I frown, "A little more context would be nice."

He blows out a breath, "Do you remember Lacey, the girl I was on the phone with the other day?"

I nod and he continues, "There was a situation with her ex-boyfriend that led to her trying to commit suicide. It was rough for a long time, but eventually she started seeing a therapist and things got better."

"Is she going to be seeing someone while she's here?"

Nico nods, "She's booked in with a therapist over in Silverwood but the sessions don't start until next week."

He looks off into the distance and I wait for him to continue.

"Wes and I helped her move in this week and while we were unpacking I found a pill bottle with the same prescription she tried to use the first time."

"Have you told Wes?"

Nico shakes his head, "No. That's part of the problem. I panicked and took the bottle but now I don't know what to do."

I pause, taking a moment to think about the situation and the data on hand.

"Were there any pills in the bottle?"

Nico frowns, "Does it matter?"

I pull out my phone and do a quick google search.

"The risk of another suicide attempt is much higher if there are pills in that bottle. If it"s just an empty pill bottle then we have a whole bunch of different scenarios that could be at play here."

"Did you seriously just google suicide stats?"

Ignoring him, I put away my phone, "First step, find out if there are any pills in that bottle. Then you would either broach the topic with the subject or consult a loved one to plan the best course of action."

Nico stares at me like I've suddenly grown three heads.

"That was… actually helpful."

I shrug, "Solutions are easiest when you have all the variables present."

He blinks, a slow smile spreading across his face, "You almost sound like a nerd there, Maurice. Any chance you have a pair of glasses stashed away somewhere?'

"I keep them locked away with the puke bags saved for long car rides."

Nico throws his head back and laughs. Shaking my head, I start walking back to the field, fighting a smile every step of the way.

Nico

"What do you think of this one?"

Wes holds up another graphic t-shirt and I pull a face.

"I don't even know what I'm looking at."

"Dude. It's an album cover." He raises an eyebrow, pointing to the band name scrawled along the top, "Fall Out Boy. You've heard their music before."

I sniff, turning away from the offensive piece of clothing, "Not by choice."

Wes grins, "Pretty sure I remember someone screaming the words to Uma Thurman just last week."

"Must have been someone else."

"Mmhmm."

Throwing the shirt over his arm, Wes leads me to the other side of the fan mania store. I've counted five different Anime tattoos on the employees wandering around the store, and I'm not even going to talk about the array of graphic t-shirts decorating the walls.

Hot Culture is every emo's fantasy.

And my worst nightmare.

"Who the hell watches anime anyway?" I shudder as I make eye contact with one of the life-sized dolls standing near the checkout counter.

Wes shoots me a sideways look, reaching for another punk rock t-shirt, "Have you ever watched it before?"

"Well… no." My eyes narrow, "Have you?"

He smiles, popping out a dimple, "Trip introduced me to it. It's surprisingly good."

"You're pathetic."

Wes ignores me, tilting his head as he holds up another t-shirt. Not bothering to hold back my sigh, I look at the nonexistent watch on my wrist.

"It should not take you this long to pick out a t-shirt."

"Shut up. I'm just making sure it'll be one Trip likes." He frowns, looking from the one in his hands to the one on his arm, "Do these look the same to you?"

I sigh, pointing at the dark material in his hands, "That one has the vintage sticker on it, the other doesn't. Isn't her birthday in October?"

Wes nods, "October 17th."

"It's September 2nd."

Broad shoulders lift in a shrug, "It's going to creep up before we know it."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what a relationship does to a man.

I let out another exasperated sigh and Wes shoots me a look, "What is your problem? You love shopping."

It's true. There's nothing I love more than an excuse to voice my opinion.

"Sorry, man. I'm just… tired."

Turning so my back is facing him, I hide my pained expression by flipping through a stack of CDs.

Since discovering Lacey's pill bottle, I have done my best to avoid my childhood friend. Wes always knows when something is bothering me, so the fact he hasn't caught on yet is almost as big of a shock as finding the pills was.

Almost.

"I know what you're doing." Wes ambles beside me, his indecision with the t-shirts weighing down both his arms.

"Hmm?" Refusing to look at him, I pick up the closest CD and flip it over.

"You're trying not to tell me something. But it's not going to work, do you want to know why?" He studies me, his usual charming smile nowhere to be found, "Because I already know what you're not telling me."

My fingers freeze, "You do?"

Wes nods, "I was waiting for you to say something."

Relief and guilt fill my system as I carefully put the CD back in its place.

"I didn't know how to bring it up, Wes. I was worried it would be breaking her trust if I told you before I confronted her."

Wes blinks, "What are you talking about?"

My heart plummets at the confused look on his face.

"What do you think this was about?"

He frowns, "The crush you have on our assistant coach."

"Er, right. That's what I was talking about too."

Swerving my gaze, I make eye contact with the creepy doll again. Her painted smile mocks me as my best friend waves for my attention.

"You're lying." The dimples are long gone as Wes stares me down.

"Am I?"

I go to walk around him but he shuffles to the left and blocks my path. A guy dressed up as Darth Vader glances in our direction.

I give him a cheerful wave, "Luke is your son!"

Vader holds up his hands as if to air choke me, so I drop the wave.

"Nico, stop being a dipshit. Tell me what's going on."

Turning to look at Wes, I can see the disappointment written across his face. The sight hits me straight in the gut.

"I…" Clearing my throat, I force my gaze to meet his, "I found something in Lacey's room that I need to talk to her about."

Wes looks at me in concern, "Is it bad?"

"That's what I need to talk to her about. To make sure it isn't." Biting my lip, I feel the guilt surge to the surface, "Lacey's trust has been broken so many times, she needs to know she has someone besides you in her corner."

"You"re right." He nods, grabbing a Green Day CD from the stack, "She needs someone she can trust. And there's no one I trust more for that role that you."

Emotion cracks his voice and my own throat thickens dangerously.

"You know I will always protect her. She's my sister as much as she is yours."

Wes grins, his eyes glistening, "Lucky for her, she got my hair."

I laugh, poking at the t-shirts bundled in his arms, "Your midnight locks might be pretty but we both know she got my charm."

He snorts, "More like your dramatics."

"Hell, I'll take it."

We smile at each other and the uncertainty I've been carrying around finally lifts from my shoulders. My mind flashes to the heart-to-heart I had with Mo earlier this week and I feel a warm flush work its way through my body.

"Have you ever heard any rumours about Maurice being gay?"

Wes groans, finally putting one of the band t-shirts back on the rack, "Dude, you need to leave that man alone. He already hates everything we do."

I raise my hands in surrender, "It's an innocent question."

"From what I've heard, Mo was a notorious ladies' man. He always celebrated his win with whatever lacrosse bunny was nearby. Sometimes there was more than one."

The image puts a bad taste in my mouth.

"He was into threesomes?"

Wes nods, "Threesomes, foursomes, whatever was convenient and available. The nickname Mighty Mo didn't originate from the lacrosse field if you know what I mean."

Well, fuck me. The man's hookup resume is more impressive than mine.

"So, there was never any rumours of him going to Lifestyle to blow off some steam?"

Wes laughs, "A lot of guys go to that nightclub to blow off some steam. Even Trip came with us last time. Lifestyle is an awesome nightclub whether you're gay or not."

I sigh, feeling oddly disappointed, "Good point."

He gives me a friendly bump on the arm, "Let it go, Nico. When it comes to Maurice O'Brien, you can look but you can't touch."

That's what I thought until Maurice made the first move.

"You're right." Giving my head a shake, I shove the jumbled thoughts aside, "Hurry up and pay so we can find your girl some spicy birthday lingerie."

"Now we're talking."