Chapter 87
Lucas's POV
I woke to the sound of Alex's alarm blaring—some godawful electronic remix that sounded like robots having a seizure. My head felt stuffed with cotton, my mouth tasted like something had died in it, and every muscle in my body ached from yesterday's practice.
"Turn it off," I groaned, pulling my pillow over my head.
"It's off, dude." Alex's voice came from across the room, annoyingly chipper. "Has been for like five minutes. You're just hearing the aftershocks in your brain."
I cracked one eye open to glare at him. He was already dressed, hair still damp from the shower, grinning at me like a psychopath. Morning people should be illegal.
"What time is it?"
"Eight-thirty. The world is fresh and new and—holy shit, is that snow?"
That got my attention. I dragged myself upright, squinting against the weak winter sunlight filtering through our window. Alex had yanked the curtains open and was pressed against the glass like a kid on Christmas morning.
"Snow," he confirmed, voice filled with wonder. "Actual snow. Not that sad frozen rain crap we got last week. Real snow."
I was swinging my legs out of bed, drawn to the window by something I couldn't quite name. Conall was stirring inside me, alert and interested in a way he hadn't been in weeks.
Pack outside, he murmured. Playing. Happy sounds.
I joined Alex at the window, and that's when I saw her.
The quad had transformed overnight into a winter wonderland—pristine white snow covering the dead grass and concrete paths, tree branches heavy with powder, the whole scene glittering in the morning sun. And right in the middle of it all, a group of students was engaged in what looked like full-scale snowball warfare.
Ellie was in the thick of it, wearing that light gray puffer jacket I'd seen her in a hundred times. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was laughing—actually laughing—as she ducked behind a hastily constructed snow fort. Lily was beside her, packing ammunition like their lives depended on it. Megan stood a little apart, looking hesitant but smiling.
"Damn," Alex said appreciatively. "That's some serious snow combat happening down there."
I couldn't respond. Couldn't look away.
And Ellie—Ellie was glowing. Her face was flushed from cold and exertion, eyes bright with genuine joy. When was the last time I'd seen her look like that? Free and unguarded and completely, utterly happy?
Not with us, Conall supplied quietly. Never with us. We made her careful. Made her small.
My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped steel cables around my ribs and was slowly pulling them taut.
"You gonna stand there creeping on people all morning, or you wanna grab breakfast?" Alex asked, oblivious to my internal crisis.
"I'm not creeping. I'm just... observing."
"Uh-huh. Observing that cute brunette in the gray jacket, maybe?"
My head snapped toward him. "What?"
Alex raised his hands defensively. "Whoa, easy there, killer. I'm just saying, you've been staring out that window for like five minutes with the most pathetic puppy dog expression I've ever seen. It's either love or indigestion, and I'm guessing it's not indigestion."
"I have a girlfriend," I said flatly.
"Yeah, about that..." Alex exchanged a glance with Josh, who had apparently given up on sleep and was now sitting up in his bunk, hair sticking up in every direction. "We've been meaning to ask you something."
The tone of his voice made something cold settle in my stomach. "What?"
"Did you and Samantha break up?"
I blinked. "No. Why would you think that?"
"Because you're actually here, man." Josh gestured around the room. "Like, physically present in the dorm. Which is weird because for the past three weeks, you've basically lived at her place. We were starting to think you'd moved out without telling us."
"I haven't—we're still together. I've just been... busy."
"Busy doing what?" Alex's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "Because from where we're sitting, it looks like you've been avoiding her place like it's on fire."
He wasn't wrong. Over the past couple days, I'd found excuse after excuse not to stay over at Samantha's apartment. Extra practice. Early morning study sessions. Helping Mom. Anything to avoid spending the night in that suffocating space where every breath felt like inhaling water.
"It's not like that," I said, but the words came out weak. Unconvincing.
Josh snorted. "Dude. You've slept here five nights this week. Five. The last time that happened was... never. You're always at Samantha's."
"Maybe I just missed you guys."
"Bullshit." Alex's voice was gentle but firm. "Come on, man. We're your roommates. We can tell when something's up. So what's the deal? You fighting? She do something? You do something?"
Down in the quad, Ellie had abandoned her fort and was now helping Megan build a snowman. They worked together easily, their movements synchronized in that way close friends develop over time. Jackson Wilson appeared from somewhere, carrying what looked like stones for the snowman's face.
Should be us, Conall whimpered. Should be our pack. Our—
"Lucas?" Alex's hand landed on my shoulder, making me flinch. "Seriously, man. Talk to us."
I wanted to. God, I wanted to tell them everything—about how every time I went to Samantha's apartment, I felt like I was slowly suffocating. About how her texts made my stomach clench with something that felt uncomfortably like dread. About how I'd wake up in the middle of the night with her curled against me and feel trapped, like the walls were closing in and I couldn't breathe.
But how could I explain that without sounding like a complete asshole? Samantha hadn't done anything wrong. She was sweet and caring and devoted. She made me lasagna and wore my clothes and told me she loved me with those big, earnest eyes.
The problem wasn't her.
The problem was me.
"We're fine," I said finally, pulling away from Alex's hand. "I've just been stressed about Mom's health stuff. Needed some space to clear my head."
It wasn't entirely a lie. Mom was sick—getting worse every day.