Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,98

factory reset to Reid’s default programming, it had actually felt good to spend time with Mia and Foreman. Most likely they cared about Kennedy, and Reid was just a by-product of that concern, but nevertheless these people were doing a fine impression of feigning interest in his well-being.

Did that mean he had to start caring about theirs? Friendships were all sorts of complicated.

This much was true: he had no plans to go easier on Foreman in practice.

He headed up to his brother’s place. If necessary he could whip out the spare key—which he never used behind Bast’s back unlike his brother’s crap. The door was ajar and a raised voice, unmistakable in tone and identity filtered through to the hallway.

“I can’t believe you let him get the jump on you. You’re better than that.”

“I didn’t. He’s been putting in the work—and it shows with my broken nose, fractured wrist, and the thumping pain in my head.”

Reid winced. Even now, his brother was playing the peacekeeper. He pushed open the door.

“How goes it, mon frere?”

Bast was sitting on the sofa, his nose bruised and bandaged, his left wrist plastered and in a sling. His lips hooked up at the corners ever so slightly.

“Connard.”

That was fair. Reid was an asshole.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fall so quickly when checked,” Reid said, aiming for a lightness he did not feel. “Like a sack of potatoes.”

“You are such a fucker. Why you want to go at me so hard?”

Reid had no excuse for how he had played. He had gone into the game pissed about Kennedy and the fact she was leaving. But mostly about the fact he wasn’t brave enough to ask her to stay. Lay it all out there. Once on the ice the battle had taken on a life of its own, fueled by anger and desperation.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

Bast shot a look at their father who, for once in his life, was keeping quiet. That look said what they both knew to be true: you became Henri. That’s what came over you.

“It’s okay, Reid.”

Henri exploded. “Are you kidding? You’re out for the rest of the season. No Olympics. No Cup. And if it doesn’t heal right, you can say goodbye to your career.”

“Dad, it’s a full-contact sport and injuries will happen.” He turned to Reid. “Kennedy called to check on me. Said you guys had a fight.”

“Been sniffing around, has she?” Henri sneered. “Probably trying to work out which one of you will have the longer career.”

“Not now, old man,” Reid growled.

Henri cocked his head. “Sounds like you’re pussy-whipped, son. Is that what has you coming after your brother on the ice? Some piece of ass?”

The man didn’t see it coming—one second his lips were slanted in mockery, the next they were parted in fear. As strong as Henri was, he no longer possessed the resilience of youth. With Reid’s forearm crushing his windpipe, his eyes bulged and spittle flecked his lips.

“What the f—?”

“Don’t talk about Kennedy like that.”

“Who the hell do—?”

Reid pressed his forearm harder against Henri’s Adam’s apple. “If I hear you breathe another word about her again, I will snap your neck.”

“Bro,” Bast called out lazily. “He doesn’t know any better.”

“He does. Being a dick is always a choice.” If anyone knew that, it was Reid.

He let go, mostly because the thought of any more violence made him ill. Henri rubbed his throat, something like admiration in his eyes. “You would have made a decent enforcer.”

“I’m too good for that. Haven’t you heard? I’m front-line material now.” Though he wondered for how much longer.

His father shot his cuffs. “You’ve got me to thank.”

Reid looked him squarely in the eye. “I suppose I do. Don’t think I’m not grateful. You trained me, pushed me, made me as good as I am. But you also made me feel like shit. You pitted me against Bast so every interaction between us was tainted. There was no such thing as friendly competition between us. It was cut throat because that’s what you wanted. Guess what, Henri? I’m not dancing to your tune anymore. I’ll play my game the way that works for me and you can take it or leave it.”

Henri scoffed. “Chiot ingrat. After all I’ve done for you, taking you in—”

“Taking me in? You married my mother when I was two years old and I fucking worshipped you because you were all I knew. The father I never had, the legend who saw