Secret Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)
Secret Obsession: Chapter 43

The front door of Willow’s family house is unlocked. Aspen and I let ourselves in, and we replace Willow in her room, buried under a mountain of blankets. There’s just a bit of her wet hair peeking out and the corner of her temple. One eye, that’s open and staring at us.

“Hey,” I call, stepping into the dark room.

I know it by heart—almost as well as my childhood home. I spent probably more time here than my house. Which is why I don’t fumble on my way to the lamp on her nightstand, and I replace the little dial on the first try.

Warm light illuminates the room. She winces.

My heart hurts for her.

I pull the covers up and crawl into bed, wrapping my arms around her.

“I’ve been a bad friend,” I whisper. “I’ve been distracted, and not sympathetic enough—”

She buries her face in my chest and bursts into tears.

“I’m going to see if there’s stuff to make dinner,” Aspen says quietly, still in the doorway. She retreats, leaving us alone.

I let her cry for a while, then say, “I’m sorry, Willow.”

“It’s not your fault.” She sniffs and withdraws. Her cheeks are streaked with tears that she hastily swipes away. “I came back here and sulked for three weeks, and then I spent a week learning how to pretend to be okay.”

“Still.”

I missed the red flags flashing in my face and told myself that she was just being some louder version of herself. Acting out because of her devastating breakup with Knox. Drinking more, sure, or partying harder. Nothing wrong with that… until it becomes a problem.

And I didn’t see it.

I almost killed Grey that night. He knew about the freaking bet and said absolutely nothing to me. I could’ve warned my best friend, and instead, we got a front-row seat to her humiliation.

“Why did you run away?”

She reaches behind her and grabs a pack of tissues, dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose. She stares at the ceiling and lets out a huff. “He said he loved me.”

“Loved? Past tense?”

Her head turns, her gaze landing on mine. “I told him I’d never love him. So… yeah, pretty sure it’s past tense.”

I snort. “Willow.”

“What?”

“You say you haven’t experienced love but grew up surrounded by it. Your parents just didn’t tell you.”

She frowns.

I sit up and pull her up, too. “Okay. So, your parents liked to enroll you in summer camp. The math one. And that one year, you had a panic attack and they picked you up and took you home for the weekend.”

“Yeah…”

I smile. “So the next year, they wanted you to go back, didn’t they?”

“They made me go back, yeah. Said something about facing my fears—”

“And I was there.” I squeeze her fingers. I never told her that her parents were the ones who approached my mom when we were fifteen, asking if they could send me to this rich person overnight camp. In reality, I should’ve been dancing—but my mom saw fucking dollar signs in the Reeds, so she’d said yes.

Understanding dawns over my best friend’s expression.

“You couldn’t have afforded that,” she whispers. “Hell, you hate math.”

“I do,” I agree. “But they knew you needed some backup, but they wanted you to figure out how to do things you were scared of doing.”

I have a hundred examples. Her parents are showers, not tellers. Traveling all day to dance competitions when their schedules allowed—and sometimes even taking my mother along, back when she was part of my life. If we were putting a label on things, I’d tell Willow that her parents showers her with acts of service but never words of affirmation. Because maybe they didn’t know she needed it.

Or she didn’t.

“You can love,” I tell her.

She sniffs and wipes her nose again. “I lied to him.”

“Miles?”

“I told him that I leave people.” She lifts her teary blue eyes to mine. “But that’s not true. He’s the first person I’ve ever left. He’s the only one who’s scared me enough to actually run away and say nasty things—”

“It’ll take more than a few words to dissuade him,” I say.

“But that’s why I said what I said,” she whispers. “I wanted to push him away. But instead, I made true on my word and I left.”

In the back of my mind, a new plan forms. One that puts both of them together, without all the pressure of school and people judging, the bullies and gossips and glares.

“Food’s ready,” Aspen calls up the stairs. “Anyone want my infamous mac ’n’ cheese?”

I take Willow’s hands and pull her out of bed. We head downstairs and sit around the table, where Aspen serves us bowls of creamy, cheesy, delicious-smelling macaroni.

“I used to make this for my sisters when Mom had to work late,” she tells us. “One staple that was always in supply was boxed pasta, and blocks of cheese usually lasted us a while. Milk, if it was the beginning of the week.” She shrugs. “Easy to throw together.”

“Comfort food,” I agree. “And we’ll watch Disney movies with ice cream after.”

Willow picks at her bowl and forces a smile. It’s easier to see now that I’m watching for it. The way her eyes take a second to catch up with her mouth.

I hold up my phone. “Grey’s calling. I’ll be right back.”

Once I’m around the corner, I dial his number.

“Hey,” he greets me almost immediately.

Warmth floods through my chest. “Hey, yourself. How’s the game?”

“About to start the third period. It’s been a fun fight, but we’re ahead by two.”

I smile.

“What’s up? Do I need to get Miles?”

“No, no, I think it’d be best if we don’t involve him. At least, not directly…” I take a breath and explain my plan.

“Brilliant,” Grey says. “I gotta run, Coach is coming in. Love you.”

“Love you,” I echo.

It still feels a little weird to be saying that. In a, holy shit, this is my life kind of way. He’s twisted and dark and brutal, and he hasn’t lost any of his edge—but I love him all the same. And he loves me.

There’s a weird sort of safety in that, and my heart aches that Willow hasn’t experienced it in full. Not where she’s actively accepting it anyway.

“Violet?” Willow calls.

I return to replace them polishing off the pan, and relief lifts weight off my shoulders that she’s eating.

“Sorry. He just wanted to make sure we made it safely. They’re winning by two going into the third period.” I take my seat and slide my bowl closer.

Willow’s cheeks pinken. “No, it’s fine, we just wanted to know if we should leave another little serving for you?”

I wave my hand for her to take it and smile.

Now we just need to talk her into going along with my plan. Or trick her into it.