AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The words come out harsh, and I’m never harsh. It surprises even me, and I set down my fork and wipe my mouth, ready to get up. But Logan sets a hand on my arm with just enough pressure to give me pause.
I could fight him off, but I stay where I am. It feels like defeat, waving my own threadbare white flag. More like a pair of dirty white socks run up a flagpole in a rainstorm.
“You don’t know that,” Logan says.
“I do.”
“Let us help. Eight heads are better than one.” Nathan is the one who says this, and I’m pretty sure that’s more than he’s said all day. He runs a hand over his hair, tied in a bun as usual, then goes right back to eating like him speaking up isn’t unusual.
Someone drops a fork, and Felix coughs violently, needing Camden to pound on his back.
“The oracle has spoken,” Logan whispers next to me, quiet so only I can hear. Halfway between reverent and sarcastic.
I choke back a laugh.
“Dude,” Van says, somehow less shocked than the rest of us at Nathan’s sudden desire to take part in conversation. “The saying istwoheads are better than one.”
Nathan shrugs but doesn't offer any explanation. I think he’s built with a shutoff valve inside him that activates when he talks too much. Clearly, it’s been tripped.
“But seriously,” Van says, pointing his knife my way. “Are you going to tell us or not?”
Maybe Nathan is right. Though I don’t think the guys around this table could possibly know more than the lawyers or even Malik or Coach, it would be nice not to feel so alone in this.
I glance around the table, meeting everyone’s eyes in turn. “You have to promise not to talk about this with anyone else. Swear it.”
I’m not sure why I’m insisting. When I get sent back to Canada, they’re all going to know. Or whenever Coach or Malik or someone on the Appies staff lets it spill. But it still feels shameful, like the kind of secret you hope stays in a dark closet somewhere. Plus, if I decide to talk about the marriage part of it, I’ll need this promise. Not that I’m going to do it. I’m not. But still.
Logan holds up his pinky and arches a brow. “You want us to pinky promise?”
I snort. “No. A vow of silence, maybe?”
“A vow ofviolence.”
That’s Wyatt, and for a moment, no one responds. I think we’re all a little stunned that the new guy spoke at all. Much less suggested something.
Alec breaks the silence with a laugh. “I like alliteration. And violence.” Then leans over and kicks Van under the table.
Van groans and doubles over, dramatically rubbing his shin. “Thehell, dude?”
Alec crosses his arms over his chest. “I knew I liked you, Wyatt. Vow of violence. Who’s in?”
“So, we’re kicking each other under the table and—what? Promising not to talk about whatever’s making Eli a grumpy Gus?” Van asks.
When I realize they’re all looking at me, I nod. “I guess.”
The next minute or so is a whole lot of violence and kicking under the table. It honestly makes me feel better. Strangely normal. That is, until the guys stop kicking each other and turn toward me, waiting to hear why they just agreed to a vow of violence.
“I’m being deported.”
Not exactly true. I mean, if I don’t leave on my own, sure. But using that term seems like the best and quickest way to catch everyone up to speed real quick.
It works. The room goes silent. The kind of silence that’s somehow painfully loud. An intenselackof noise.
I already regret saying anything, but now that I’ve started, why stop?
“The only way to potentially stop it from happening is if I get married in the next three weeks.”
This is met with laughter, not silence. Uproarious. The kind punctuated with guys banging on the table or slapping each other on the back. I think Van is crying. The only two not laughing are Logan and Felix, who are clearly the only sharp tools in this shed.
