Heartless Player by R.C. Stephens

Twenty-Eight

Rebel

“You look happy,” Holland says, as she pulls out of my driveway.

“It’s terrifying,” I say, unable to hold back my smile.

Wolfe couldn’t stay the night because he had practice early this morning. Last night was so intense, it was liberating. Sharing my past with him was unexpected but cathartic. And him feeling as if he’s living a lie because he doesn’t want anyone to know who his father is? That was a curve ball I didn’t see coming. But what has me completely twisted up is that I’m falling hard for Wolfe. What happened last night was beautiful and broken and oh so very perfect.

“You don’t look terrified. You look satisfied,” Holland says, waggling her brows.

“I’m that too.” I smile, then frown.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I say as Holland pulls onto the highway. We’re headed into the city.

“We both need a break. You had the afternoon off and so did I,” she says. “It was a perfect opportunity.” Holland never takes breaks from her life so I really couldn’t say no to her. This day off seemed important to her, and after spending a lot of my free time with Wolfe, I feel like my bestie and I needed quality time.

“And Darren really didn’t care that we gave him such short notice?” I ask.

Holland rolls her eyes. “He was fine. I already spoke to Sophia and Karl about replacing us before I asked Darren so he couldn’t say no.”

“You’re something else.”

“So I’ve been told.” She laughs.

We crank up the music and enjoy the rest of the ride toward Boston. At least it’s a sunny day, even if it is freezing outside. I watch Holland and wonder how she always has her shit together, even after everything she’s been through. The way she works hard at the bar and in school, plus she makes time to volunteer at the hospital. She never does anything for herself and it makes me sad that she sometimes doesn’t take a breather and just live a little.

We pull into a mall and I take my pouch and sling it across my shoulders as I get out of her cherry-red BMW.

“So, what are we looking for?” I ask. I’m rarely one to buy clothes.

“We’re going to a frat party tonight. We need something to wear.” I almost stumble at her words.

“Oh no. No. No. No. No way.” I shake my head back and forth.

“Please,” she begs, drawing out the word much longer than necessary.

“Do you seriously see me going to a frat party?” I snicker. “That has to be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Just hear me out.” She glances at me as we walk across the parking lot.

I nod.

I owe her at least that. Her wanting to go to a frat party is very out of character for her.

She blows out a breath. “You know how we spoke about it being a good idea for me to just maybe have a hookup? Well, I thought about it and I want to do it. I’m always so busy with school and work and acting proper and doing the right thing. I’m burned out. I want to be wild and crazy. I’m young, and if I don’t sow my wild oats now, I feel like I’ll be some old bag one day who will feel like they never lived.” Her shoulders slump.

I hear every word she’s saying and they resonate deep inside me. “I can’t lie and say I’ve never had those thoughts. I used to mope around, thinking of the life I had before the accident and how different everything would be if I hadn’t lost my leg. Then Wolfe came along, and he’s turned my life upside down. I don’t recognize myself with him, which has been completely unexpected.”

“I’m a little jealous,” Holland says with a bashful smile. “Can’t Wolfe have a twin?”

I laugh, but it dies fast. “Are you sure it’s a hookup you want?”

“I just want to go to this party and have fun with my wing woman at my side,” she says. “I want to drink, let loose, and if I find some attractive guy I might want to hook up with, that will be a bonus. I know it sounds terrible, but I have needs that have been long ignored.” She sighs.

Holland was dating the quarterback of our high school all of senior year. She lost her virginity to him and they ended on good terms when he decided to move to California for college.

“I’m in,” I say.

“Seriously?” Holland looks at me like there’s some catch to my agreement.

“I get it. I may hate every minute of being there, but I’ll go. For you.”

“OMG,” Holland screeches and throws her arms around me, almost toppling me over. “Sorry.” She steadies me and takes a step back.

“Can we go into the mall now? I’m kind of freezing my ass off.”

“Yes, definitely,” she says, and we head inside.

We walk into a large department store and head over to the dress section. Holland picks up a tight black dress and holds it up in the air. “Nice.” I nod my head in approval.

“Good. Go try this one on.” She thrusts the dress at me.

I shake my head profusely. “No. I agreed to go, but I’m not spending money on a dress.”

“It’ll be my treat. Or more like Daddy’s treat.” She waves the credit card her father gave her in the air.

“Get yourself something to wear. I’m sure I can find something in my closet,” I answer.

“What, like a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans or gym clothes?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Hey! Don’t diss the gym clothes. They’re my favorite,” I pout.

“Humor me,” she says, shoving the dress into my arms. She takes a green number for herself. “Just try it on for fun.”

“Why do I let you talk me into things?” I roll my eyes playfully and head into the change room.

Holland takes the one next to me. “I need to go to Victoria Secret after this. I don’t own a pair of normal panties,” she says.

“Huh. Well, I wear my Hanes bikini briefs. I don’t get any complaints from Wolfe,” I say and then I remember how excited Wolfe was when he discovered I was commando.

“You need some sexy panties too. It’s fun,” she says on a giggle.

“Fun? What is this word you speak of?” I mock.

I slip on the dress. Oh, hell no.

Holland must be in her dress because she knocks on my dressing room door. “Do you plan on coming out?”

“This was a bad idea,” I say, staring at myself in the mirror.

“I’m liking this green one. Tell me what you think,” she says.

“Okay, give me a sec to get my clothes back on.”

“Don’t change, I want to see the dress,” she whines.

“I can’t, Holland. What kind of shoe would I wear? And my prosthesis will be out in the open for everyone to see,” I say. I usually wear full length pants, socks, and shoes. It does a good job of camouflaging.

“What do you care what everyone thinks? You’re hot. Wolfe thinks you’re hot. Screw everyone else,” she states.

It takes me a minute to process her words. I think back to the first time Wolfe and I hooked up, the first time we got naked, the first time we had sex. My prosthesis was never really an issue to him. He didn’t see it. He saw me. But not everyone will be like him. Should I care what people think? I’ve spent the last three years of my life living like a ghost because I was scared of people’s reactions.

“Rebel?”

“I need another minute,” I answer.

What did I achieve by hiding out? Nothing. I was living life behind the scenes. Quiet. Careful. Now, Wolfe has turned my life upside down in the best way possible. I’m falling hard for him. Hell, I already know I love him, and where will that leave me when all is said and done? With a crushed heart. He’ll enter the draft, play for the NHL, and probably live somewhere on the other side of the country and I’ll never see him again. But a quiet voice inside me whispers being with him has impacted me more than that. Don’t ignore it. Own it.

“Rebel?” Holland asks again. “You plan on coming out?”

“I’m getting there. Just need a few more,” I answer.

I hear Holland blow out a harsh breath and I go back into my head. My self-confidence has improved and I have Wolfe to thank for that, but I also have myself to thank too. Taking a risk with him wasn’t easy. However he managed to slither into my heart, it means I was willing and open for it to happen. I allowed myself to feel. To live. And, dammit, this dress looks good on me. If people at that party want to focus on my prosthesis, then it’s their problem, not mine.

Something inside me releases when I open the dressing room door. Showing my leg to Holland is easy. She’s been there for me every step of the way, but me putting myself out there, exposed and raw, is new. Hard, yes, but liberating too.

“You look hot,” she says, looking me over from head to toe.

“Thanks. You do too.”

Then she frowns and pulls me into a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I laugh nervously.

“No, I mean it. You’re my hero,” she says, because she gets me. Holland is my person. She knows how hard this is for me.

“Thanks for saying that. You should have heard the pep talk I just gave myself to get myself out here.” I laugh sadly.

“I can’t imagine, but you’re amazing and beautiful.”

Tears prick my eyes. She pulls away and turns me to the mirror in front of us.

“We are going to rock that frat party.” Her lips tip up in a devilish smile

“You know I’m not into drinking,” I remind her.

She shrugs. “Still, we both look pretty damn hot.”

“We do,” I agree. “I’m just wondering what kind of pep talk I’ll have to give myself to walk into the party if it was this hard to leave the dressing room.”

“Baby steps,” Holland says, and she gives my hand a squeeze.