“I’m done putting myself out there,” he argues. “Not after you.”

I swallow my frustration. It doesn’t seem to occur to him that he never actually put himself on the line for me, never once expressed his emotions to me—he just stood there passively waiting for me to notice that he had a crush on me. I guess that was easier for him than putting his feelings out there.

But why didn’t I notice, dammit? Misery crawls up my throat as I think back to all the times Nico, and even Hunter, told me that TJ liked me. I didn’t see it.

Or maybe I didn’t want to see it.

Maybe, like TJ, like everyone else in this world, I chose to take the easy way out. Subconsciously, anyway. Maybe it was easier to remain blind to TJ’s true feelings, categorize him as a needy friend, instead of processing what those feelings might mean for our friendship.

“TJ,” I say softly, and for the first time in five minutes—I move. I hold my hand out to him. My fingers are shaking harder than they’ve ever shaken. I’m so afraid I feel like it’s inevitable I’m going to pee my pants.

He stares at my visibly trembling hand, unhappiness in his eyes as he brushes snowflakes off his face. “You’re scared,” he mutters. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“Then come down from this ledge with me,” I plead.

He doesn’t answer.

I let my hand drop, pressing it tight to my side once again.

The faint murmur of voices drifts up toward us. A crowd has gathered below. I can make out uniformed officers, and I wonder if the one who arrested me and Hunter is down there. Officer Jenk. That jerk. An ambulance and several police cruisers have pulled up to the small parking lot in front of the dormitory.

“There’s nothing for me here,” TJ mumbles. “I’d rather just be dead than deal with this stupid shitty life anymore.”

“You might not die,” I point out.

“We’re four stories up. That’s like a fifty-foot drop.”

“A fall from four or five stories has about a fifty-percent chance of survival. A hundred feet, sure, you’d probably die.” I arch a brow. “But most falls from this height aren’t fatal.”

His eyes flash. “I’m not in the mood to listen to your bullshit statistics, Demi.”

“It’s not bullshit. I was literally just talking about this with my father tonight.”

“Why the hell would you be talking about that?”

“Because Dad operated on a man who fell about sixty feet from an apartment window. He was trying to sneak a cigarette without his wife finding out, so he was leaning out the window and lost his balance. Fell headfirst to the pavement.” I swallow. “Do you want me to tell you what happened to him?”

“He survived his big adventure and even though his wife divorced him for smoking behind her back, he’s now living happily ever after with the hot nurse who gave him sponge baths,” TJ says sarcastically. “Moral of the story: life is always worth living. Nice try, Demi.”

I give a humourless laugh. “No. He survived the fall, but suffered a skull fracture, which led to a subdural hematoma. My father operated but the damage was too severe. He’s still alive, but he’s badly brain damaged. He’ll never live a regular life again. Oh, and he’s blind in one eye because the fall severed his ocular nerve. It’s still too early to tell the extent of cognitive damage, but Dad isn’t hopeful.”

TJ looks stunned. He goes scarily silent, his gaze glued to the ground below us.

The flashing red and blue lights slice through the darkness. Thick clouds obscure the moon, and the falling snow is a blinding array of white against the backdrop of the inky sky. Despite the crowd gathered in front of Bristol House, it feels like TJ and I are the only two people in the world right now.

My stomach is in knots as I rack my brain wondering what else to say. How to help him. “So,” I say softly. “Here we are.”

Pain flickers across his face. “Here we are.”

40

Hunter

I have no fucking idea what’s going on as I charge into the locker room. The guys are all suited up. I’m the only one half-dressed and I don’t give two shits right now. Demi’s father is on my heels, startling every single one of my teammates by his appearance.

Coach’s eyebrows fly up. “Who’s this?” he demands.

“This is Demi’s father,” I explain. “Dr. Marcus Davis.”

“Wow,” Bucky blurts out, gaping at the newcomer. “You got here fast! This news literally just broke.”

“What exactly is going on?” Dr. Davis demands, ignoring everyone but the other adult in the room.

Jensen sticks out a hand. “Chad Jensen, and I’m afraid I can’t answer that for you. All we have is a grainy picture on a phone.”

“It’s Demi,” I say through gritted teeth.

Dr. Davis nods grimly. “That’s my daughter. Where is this place exactly? Bristol House?”

“It’s a dorm on the west side of campus,” Matt supplies. “Ten-minute walk, two minute drive.”

Dr. Davis is already back at the door. “Davenport,” he barks. “I need you to show me where it is.”

My feet stay rooted to the floor. Because…the team’s about to hit the ice. This game determines who goes to our conference finals, and from there it’s on to the national tournament. The Frozen Four.

But I can’t play hockey right now. My girlfriend is up on a goddamn roof in the middle of February, trying to talk down a suicide jumper. I skimmed several tweets in the stream Matt showed me, and it doesn’t sound like it’s just two people simply hanging out up there. TJ is clearly threatening to jump.

I rake both hands through my hair. My fingers are shaking wildly. I’m geared up in my lower pads, hockey pants, and socks. But up top I’m in a wife-beater. My shoulder and elbow pads spill haphazardly out of my locker. My chest protector is on the bench.

Swallowing hard, I sweep my gaze around the room. I’m about to break every rule in the captain’s handbook.

I wanted to be a good captain. I wanted to put the team first, support my guys, be patient with them, follow all the rules I’ve been compiling since the season started. I promised myself I wouldn’t let girls interfere with hockey, and now I’m about to throw the rulebook out the window…for a girl.

But there is literally no other choice here for me. Guys like Garrett, Dean, Logan—I think they’d understand. I think they’d never put sports ahead of their women. So if my team hates me, so be it. All I know is, if Demi’s in trouble, then she comes first.

“Guys.” My voice is rough. “I’m sorry. I can’t play tonight.”

Nobody utters a word.

Guilt spirals through me and forms a tight pretzel in the pit of my stomach. “Trust me,” I continue desperately, “I don’t want to miss this game, but even if I went out there right now and played, I would only be a detriment to you. My head isn’t here, it’s with Demi. I won’t be able to concentrate until I know she’s safe and—”

“She just climbed onto the ledge,” Matt blurts out, his eyes glued to his phone screen.