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“Tor?”

I shake my head. “This was a bad fucking idea.”

If I’m talking to her or myself, I don’t know. But the ecstasy from before is evaporating, leaving behind the icy chill of regret.

Not her. I could never regret her. I’ve tried.

But of weaving myself back into the LaBlanc family web.

“Why?”

“I can’t do this with you again, Lil.”

There’s a pause then, before Lily pulls her robe closed around her as she stumbles to stand too close to me once more. Her eyes are wide as she peers up at me and asks, “Am I allowed to be here?”

“What?”

“My dad won’t tell me,” she says, before she can’t bear to look into my eyes anymore, glancing away toward the wall over my shoulder. “Am I allowed to be here?”

“Of course, Lily. What do you—”

“Because of the restraining order.”

My knees buckle.

I’ve never heard the words out loud, and from her mouth it’s a particular brand of torment.

“It was dissolved a year ago.” I still remember the day that phone call came. It was the same day of finals, when I’d hit Rhys Koteskiy on the ice and gotten kicked off my team.

“You mean . . . you got rid of it?”

There’s something wrong in the way she’s asking. Because I didn’t get a restraining order against Lily LaBlanc. Even at my worst, I’d never have asked this girl to stay away from me.

“I can’t talk about this,” I snap, turning around and grabbing for my helmet before heading toward the window. “This was stupid. I don’t know why I came here.”

I leave faster this time, ignoring the feel of her confusion and pain, the way I can feel it in my own chest, just a reminder of how it’s always been between us. I was a fool to think I’d ever rid myself of my soul’s tie to Lily LaBlanc.

Chapter 20

Lily

“Still on for lunch?” Holden asks.

I nod, stepping into the crowded, loud hallway of all the classes that have just let out, heading toward the stairwell. We just finished our morning art history lesson, so it’s barely eleven in the morning and I only have an hour before math—though I’m almost desperate for a reason to miss it.

And if I’m going to be even a minute late, I know I won’t go.

A drawn-out lunch with Holden is exactly what I need.

“Where are we going to eat?”

Holden doesn’t say anything at first, hedging around my body to settle on my left side as we take the stairs quickly. He’s too big to walk shoulder to shoulder with me, but everyone lets him do it, ducking into the handrails to avoid hitting him.

“There’s a bagel place in the library, or we can go to Hirsch.” The dining hall, the main one that isn’t the café in the Wellness Center. “What are you in the mood for?”

I spin back toward him as we exit the building and into the bright sunlight that does little to heat the cold February day. “Bagels sound good.”

This time, Holden takes my shoulders in his grip and moves me again to his other side. So that he’s nearer my left ear. It feels . . . deliberate. But it’s always been hard for me to read people like this. Am I overly sensitive to this particular issue?