**Chapter 2** LIAM Rachel’s tears seep into my shirt, warm and heavy against my skin. I soak up each drop, desperate to ease her pain, yet utterly perplexed by what has just unfolded. Her expression is a mix of fear and anguish, and every moment of her distress chips away at my heart. Nothing shatters me quite like a wounded soul. When her face had flickered with terror moments ago, it stirred something deep within me—old memories that cut too close to the present. They’re not distant wisps of childhood; they linger like shadows, always ready to pounce. I remember Mama, hunched over the kitchen table, her swollen lip stained by both tears and sorrow, the gentle reassurance she tried to offer, “Bruises heal, mijo.” Anger floods me, tightening my gut as I gaze at Rachel, who sniffles softly beside me. I force myself to breathe, willing the tension to dissipate. I don’t want her to feel my darkness; she needs comfort, not chaos. Clarity in the storm of emotions swirling around us would be a blessing, but I dare not pry. She’s teetering on the edge of heartache, engulfed in a haze of sadness that needs time to lift. I need— The front door bursts open. “Hey-yo!” Ethan’s voice booms into the house, a jarring contrast to the somber atmosphere. “Oh come on! ‘Hey-yo’? Really?” Mick’s laughter fills the space, teasing and light, and I can’t help but grin at their banter. “I’m experimenting with a new greeting, Shorty! It’s gonna be my signature from this point on!” Ethan beams. “Not if I can help it.” “What’s wrong with it? It’s catchy! Hey-yo! Doesn’t it sound cool?” Mick scoffs before tackling Ethan in playful mockery. Their laughter dances into the room, a sound that feels all too foreign right now. In an instant, they tumble toward me, caught up in their own world, unaware of the weight that finds solace in my lap. It’s a moment of levity, until Mick’s playful screech fills the air, her laughter infectious as Ethan swoops her up, lifting her high, allowing her to wrap her legs around him. Rachel, however, remains frozen on my knee, as though the joy around us could shatter her into a thousand pieces if she moved. I ease my hold, and she slips away from me, just as Ethan delivers a guttural sound of intent to his girlfriend. Not yet. I clear my throat, the noise piercing through their shared giggles. It takes a few pointed coughs before the lovebirds acknowledge my presence. They abruptly pull away, breathless and wide-eyed, lips swollen and glistening. Mick’s expression shifts concern as she stares at Rachel, who is not quite able to mask her sorrow. “Ray?” Mick’s voice cuts through the room, raw and tender. “Hey, Mick.” Rachel brushes a finger beneath her eye, summoning a smile that crumbles like fragile glass. Her face is a canvas of tears, blotched and red-rimmed, and there is little she can do to conceal the hurt that lingers there. “What’s wrong? What are you doing here? How did you get here?” Mikayla’s worry spills over, her little hands gently pushing aside Rachel’s bangs as if trying to uncover the truth hidden beneath. Rachel’s face crumples again as she releases a shaky sigh, surrendering to the weight of the world. “Theo and I broke up.” “Aw, babe…” Mick leans back, her heartache mirroring that of her best friend. She takes Rachel’s hand, squeezing it fervently against her chest. “What happened?” Rachel, tight-lipped, simply shakes her head. It’s a small movement, yet it conveys a universe of pain. Thankfully, Mick respects her silence, instead brushing her thumb soothingly along Rachel’s cheek, their eyes locked in shared anguish. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting.” With another sniff, Rachel admits, “I just needed to see my bestie.” Mikayla, quick as lightning, envelops her in a fierce embrace, resting her head on Rachel’s shoulder in a protective cocoon. Rachel pulls back, seemingly overwhelmed by the outpouring of affection. “I’m sorry to just show up like this. I should’ve called ahead, but I’ve been running on stress and tears—” Her voice catches, the glimmer of more tears pooling in her eyes. “Hey, it’s perfectly fine. You’re always welcome, unannounced or not,” Mick assures her, her excitement sparking back to life despite the somber occasion. “I can’t believe you’re really here!” With renewed vigor, she tugs Rachel into yet another embrace, and I observe as Rachel’s faint smile fights its way through the gloom. It’s heartwarming, watching how tightly knit these two are. I exchange a significant glance with Ethan, who grins down at them, his brow furrowing as he lets a smirk tease the corners of his lips, pointing at my bare chest, as if to say, “Hey, dude, don’t even think about it.” Fat chance. Not when the poor girl looks like her heart was just stomped on. I’d never make a move in a state like this. As I peel myself off the couch, muttering that I’ll take a shower, the front door swings wide again, and the rest of the guys tumble in, blissfully unaware of Rachel’s turmoil. Fear grips my chest at the thought—they’re going to be too much for her. Without thinking, I rotate, shielding her from their view. “’Sup, bitches!” Casey struts into the room, his swagger exaggerated, a faint haze of tipsiness floating around him. “Hey-yo!” Ethan replies, unable to suppress his grin as Mick groans in annoyance from the couch. Asher, nonchalant, drops his keys onto the kitchen counter, shrugging off a coat I can only assume cost more than my entire wardrobe. He heads for the fridge, while I tense, knowing Casey will undoubtedly gravitate toward Rachel. “Bax, you in?” Casey calls, sure enough, drawing Baxter into the fray. “Yep, set it up!” comes the distant call from down the hallway. Baxter is not one for social gatherings, but he and Casey—the two of them gaming together is a rare event. And if Baxter strolls in to find Rachel in his usual spot, it could be a recipe for disaster. Considering he struggles to relate to Mikayla, who he still voted to keep around, I know Baxter can be prickly when it comes to someone he doesn’t know cozying up in his space. Yet, it’s impossible to resist the slow grin playing on my lips as I picture his reaction. Just as I suspect Casey is about to fully engage with Rachel, he swoops in. “Hel-lo,” he croons. I clench my jaw, crossing my arms as I shot him a piercing glare of warning. Too late. Casey skips right over to Mick, a wide grin plastered across his face as he leans against the coffee table, extending his tattooed arm toward Rachel. Mick rolls her eyes as Rachel regards the tattooed colossus with uncertainty, glancing for reassurance from her best friend. But with a sigh, she takes his hand. “You must be Casey,” she manages, and I feel that twist in my gut again as he puffs out his chest with pride. “That I am,” he proclaims. And Mick darts forward, giving his shirt a playful slap as she laughs. “Okay, peacock. Time to reign it in. She’s not interested.” “Hey, how do you know? She’s probably speechless because she’s in awe of my beauty!” Casey boasts, his bravado intact. Rachel bites her lip, a light smirk forming, while Mikayla unsuccessfully stifles her laughter at his antics. “You are—” “Unbelievably gorgeous? Charming? Hilarious? The hottest man in this house?” She stands, wagging a finger at him. “None of the above.” “You slay me,” he retorts, hand theatrically landing over his heart. Then he turns back to Rachel, gesturing to Mick with a thumb. “Do you know this woman?” Rachel can’t suppress her laughter any longer, and the sound is like music to my ears. Good. It’s nice to see her smile; she deserves at least a flicker of hope. “She’s my best friend,” Rachel responds, her voice soft yet proud. “Which means you must be Ray-Ray,” Casey spins, waggling a finger in her direction. “You’re a stunner!” “Um…” Rachel glances at Mick, hesitating. “Thank you?” Mick, exasperated, tugs Rachel up to her feet with affectionate annoyance. “Ignore this horndog. Someone really ought to tattoo a warning label on him.” “I’m hot stuff, baby. I can’t help it,” Casey shrugs, the tongue poking from his mouth sending him further into his ridiculous persona. “Keep it in your pants, Casey,” I growl, irritation rushing through my veins. He narrows his eyes at me, lifting his eyebrows in confusion, clueless about the weight of the situation wrapping around Rachel. “Welcome to Hockey House, Rachel,” Asher announces, offering his hand with a dazzling grin, leaning in as if he’s some dashing prince instead of just regular Asher from New York. “Seriously?” Mick nudges him away, disbelief coloring her tone. “You’ve never kissed my hand.” “Well, you’re not a lady, are you?” he quips back, that grin not faltering as Rachel blushes. She tugs at the ends of her jacket, trying to hide her hands, and I step forward, frustrated with myself that I hadn’t noticed it sooner. “Here, let me take that.” She must be burning up beneath the fabric, and the sight of her distress pulls at my insides. “I... I don’t want to be a bother, really,” she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. “Not a chance, you’re staying,” Mick insists, arms crossed firmly. I nod in agreement; there’s no way I’ll let her leave now. “I can find a hotel or something—” “No way. You’d be subjecting us to chaos,” Ethan teases. “Seriously, Mick will go Postal on us if we let you leave. You’re welcome to stay, Rachel.” Asher jumps in. “Yeah, of course! I’ll grab some towels and show you upstairs!” I trail after them, hoping to tidy my room—scrambling to shove clothes into the laundry basket and making my bed just as Rachel enters. “And this will be your spot!” Asher beams, clearly pleased with his role as host. Glimpses of Rachel’s face flicker with confusion, and Asher jumps in, explaining the layout of the house as if he were a tour guide. “This is my uncle’s house, therefore it’s kind of mine too. My master bedroom is downstairs, and this office next door is—” “Technically a glorified man cave,” I interject, rolling my eyes at his over-explaining. “Right, right, but you’re welcome to check it out anytime. I have this impressive comic book collection…” His voice trails off as he realizes Rachel’s polite smile is hiding suppressed laughter. I watch as he gives me a look before exiting with a huff, a completeness of frustration radiating off him. “Just made the bed for you. Sorry the sheets aren’t clean, but I just put them on a couple of days ago. I can change them if you want,” I offer, fumbling the words as tension needles through the air. “No, it’s fine,” Rachel demurs, hands grazing through the air as if dismissing an unnecessary formality. “It’s refreshing to have you here. Mick’s thrilled.” “Yeah…” Her gaze softens, a warmth sweeping over her features. “It’s nice to see her, too.” “And I… I’m really sorry about your boyfriend.” The flicker of pain in her eyes hits me like a hard punch; I wince, regretting I brought it up. “You look exhausted,” I say, trying to shift the air back to something lighter. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” “Thanks,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping to the floor. As I start to step away, I place a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her body flinches for a moment before falling still, a thread of uncertainty fastening a wall between us. “You’re safe here. There’s a lock on my door if you need it,” I tell her, the weight of the words resting heavily on my heart. She simply nods, and as I retreat down the stairs, my gut tightens with worry. Mick is busy in the kitchen, a flurry of activity as she prepares hot chocolates. I lean against the counter, arms crossed. “What’s the deal with this Theo guy? Rachel seems devastated.” “Yeah, I know…” Mick’s expression is grave as she pours hot milk over granules in one mug. “It’s just… poor thing. He was her first everything—her first boyfriend and roommate.” “They were living together?” I ask, irritation flashing through me. “Yeah,” she sighs. “She only moved in about a month ago. Things must have cratered pretty quickly. She made a few comments here and there, but nothing concrete. I can’t help but wonder what tipped the scales.” “It’s a marathon drive for her, and she was such a wreck when she arrived.” Mikayla's eyes narrow thoughtfully, stirring the mixture in her mug. “Don’t fret. I’ll get to the bottom of this. Not tonight, but in time I will. Rachel's like an onion when it comes to her feelings; you have to peel back the layers with care. But eventually, she’ll open up.” Her smile radiates as she grabs the two mugs, ready to ascend the stairs. An onion, huh? Good to know. “Hey.” Mick catches my attention again, her tone softening. “Stop looking so worried. She’s going to be okay. A few ice cream dates in a week, and I’ll have the full scoop. I know how to handle Rachel.” She winks at me, and an unexpected thought stirs in my mind: I’d love to know how Rachel truly ticks, too.