Chapter 99: WESTON

WESTON’S POV

This chapter is dedicated to the song ‘Older’ by Searows.

Someone knocked on my door and I peeled my eyes open slowly, staring at the clock on my bedside table.

It was some minutes after midnight, and the red digits blinked at me almost mockingly.

I screwed my eyes shut, and buried my face in the pillows beneath me. They smelled like fabric softener and lavender detergent.

The smell of a stranger.

The knock came again, and this time, a familiar voice rang out.

“Weston?” It was Nadia, “Can I come in?”

I sucked in a shuddering breath, and it felt like every joint in my body was on fire. “Yeah.”

My voice was hoarse and muffled by the pillow, I wasn't sure if she'd even heard me, but a moment later, the large oak door was being pushed open.

Her steps were quiet on the carpet as she crossed to where I lay. I heard the clinking of silverware as she placed a tray on a dresser, a minute later, the bed dipped as she sat.

“Малыш (malysh),” she cooed softly, “You've been cooped here all weekend. Your mother is worried you're not eating.”

I hadn't even realised Mom was lucid enough to notice I was absent. I lay prone, flinching violently when Nadia placed a hand on my shoulder.

She noticed and yanked it off like she'd been burned. I shut my eyes tighter and curled into myself, hating how pathetic I must’ve looked to her.

“I really hate to see you like this.” Her voice was soft, rough like she was on the verge of tears. “Will you at least eat something for me, Weston?”

“I'm not hungry, Nadia.” I croaked.

She sucked in a deep breath, her skirts swished as she adjusted on the bed. “Will you let me look at your back at least? I have ointment.”

“It's fine.” I forced out through the heat of humiliation coursing through my veins. She'd patched me up enough times over the years, I didn’t want her to see this too.

Besides, Andrew never broke skin anymore.

Not when he knew I'd be taking my shirt off in a team locker room every so often, and we'd have compulsory medicals every now and then. He couldn't afford obvious evidence or it'd lead to questions.

Someone cleared their throat at the door, and I realized Nadia had left it open. The bed lightened with her weight as she got up. I didn't turn to look, but the person spoke a moment later.

“How is he?”

Her voice was clipped and impersonal, professional as always. Of course it was Maeve.

“Did Mr. Pierce send you here?” Nadia asked, her voice uncharacteristically stern.

There was a beat of silence, and then Maeve said, “You should excuse us.”

“I'm sorry ma'am, I'm not leaving until he eats something.” Nadia insisted, standing her ground.

I sighed, pushing myself up to sit before she cost herself her job. “Nadia, it's fine.” I rubbed at the grime in my eyes, turning my gaze to them both.

“Are you sure, Wesya?” She pinned me with a worried look. “You'll eat something?”

“Yeah.” I lied, even forcing a smile for her.

She didn't look like she really believed me, but that must've been good enough for her. A moment later, the door was clicking shut behind her and it was just Maeve and I.

The woman stepped closer, perusing me from head to toe. Her heels clicking softly against the carpet.

“Wow, you look frightful.” She said, dragging a chair from the dresser and placing it by the bed.

“What do you want?” I grumbled, kicking my legs to the side and climbing to my feet for the first time in what felt like days.

“Your father sends his regards.” She called to my back, watching as I crossed into the bathroom.

“You can tell him to stick his regards up his ass.”

Maeve wrinkled her nose, crossing her slim legs gingerly. “I will not be relaying that. But, I suppose you must know that the dinner was a success, all things considered. Your father has gotten what he wants from Mr. Cross.”

I froze with my head under the water, hating how her words spread through my veins like ice.

“Elliot said yes?” The question was barely audible.

Maeve nodded, her expression carefully blank. “It's the smartest thing he could've done for himself. His standing with the scholarship board is precarious at best, it's unlikely they'll keep supporting him if his legal entanglements don't get resolved soon.”

I frowned, whipping my gaze her way. “What legal entanglements?”

She pursed her lips and shrugged one shoulder carelessly. “Andrew wants you to monitor his investment with Mr. Cross, while also making sure you're on your best behaviour until the end of this season.”

I sent her a narrow eyed glare. “You're deliberately ignoring my question.”

“No.” She hummed, rising graciously to her feet. “I have no answer for you.”

She crossed the room to stand at the doorway of the bathroom. Her gaze was cold and decisive as she perused me without feeling. I met it with a glare of my own, but she was unphased.

“Andrew wants you back in school before the end of today. He says it's not up for debate.”

I twisted the tap shut with more force than was necessary, scowling at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was getting long again, the pale fuzz curling softly at the top from the humidity.

I dragged a hand through it and shut my eyes briefly.

“It's not like I want to be here any more than he wants me here.” I grumbled under my breath.

Maeve cocked a brow slightly, “The car will be here in an hour.”

“I'll be ready.”

She nodded once. “Good.”

It seemed like she had nothing else to say, but for some reason, she hesitated at the threshold, and I was stuck waiting for her to make up her mind so I could leave the bathroom.

Finally, she sighed and rubbed at her neck. “Do you know I met Andrew at my brother's funeral?”

Her words took me aback, and for a long while, I didn’t really comprehend what she was saying.

“What?”

She squared her shoulders and met my gaze head on, her eyes warm honey brown. “He was in the NHL, a couple years into the big leagues. His teammates found out he liked men because he was blackmailed. The league never found out because his death was swept under the rug.”

I took a step back, my heart pounding hard in my chest. “W-why are you telling me this?”

“I don't know.” She shrugged again, “Maybe I think you need the reminder on what's your priority. Andrew thinks you're losing your focus.

The NHL is just a couple months away, Weston. You need to decide for yourself if it's worth losing it over temporary dalliances.”

I sucked in a sharp breath and had to grip the sink for balance as I watched her leave. Her words bouncing around in my head over and over again.