queen of the jersey chasers, but she isn’t in charge of me.
“Z asked me to wait for him.”
She raises a brow. “Do you have any clue how many girls meet him here at this house?”
I cross my arms. “None since me.” And I happen to know Z isn’t the womanizer people like to say he is. I know him. Sure he has the healthy sexual appetite of a twenty-one-year-old male—hell, I love that about him—but she likes to exaggerate this idea of a horde of females being all over him. And I get it. He’s the number one draft pick and he’s beautiful and women want that, but over these past weeks, I’ve seen another side of him. The softness blended with the dark, the man who saves cats and puts up with his brother’s hateful girlfriend. Is she even his girlfriend? I don’t know.
She gloats. “Oh, I’ll give you that. You are the one right now, but if you only knew…”
I take a step toward her, and I’m taller, looming over her. “You’ve been itching to tell me the dirt on Z since the moment we met, but the truth is, I know him.”
“You know about Willow?” I nod and her gaze rakes over me. Then she smiles. “Did he ever tell you what she looked like?”
I frown. He hasn’t, but in my head I see her as a young, pretty high school girl who idolized him. I haven’t asked too many questions about her appearance because, well, it felt intrusive. “She was beautiful.”
She sneers. “She was way more than just beautiful.”
My nerves clang at the insinuating tone she uses.
“You should see your face right now.”
“I’m going to his room for better company.” I walk down the hall.
“If you really want to know what Z sees in you, just open his nightstand drawer,” she calls out from behind me as she follows.
“I don’t go through people’s private things.” But I do recall the look on his face when he looked at his nightstand a few days back.
Before I can shut the door, she comes into his room, circling around me until she’s standing next to his bed. She sits on the navy duvet, her hand stroking over his pillow, and I want to jump on her, but I grit my teeth instead.
“What do you want, Veronica?”
She looks around the space and laughs. “That night at the Kappa party when he first saw you, it was like you were a ghost, and then he just had to have you.”
Ghost?
“So?” I feign boredom.
“Just open the drawer. See what’s there and all will be revealed and you can quit being the stupid dumb blonde who thinks the hockey player is falling for her.”
A tingle of dread crawls along my spine. “No.”
“Fine. Let me do the honors.” She leans over with a flippant attitude and pulls the drawer out, her expression lighting up at whatever she sees, and I guess this isn’t the first time she’s been through his things. She pulls out a small gold box and dumps the contents on his bed. Dozens of folded yellow pieces of paper fall out along with a lone photograph that floats around and lands near the end of the bed, closest to me. I don’t look at it.
“Afraid?” She smiles.
“No. I assume those are the letters he writes to Willow for therapy.”
She shakes her head. “It’s sick how he’s fooled you.”
My resolve cracks, but I trust him. Don’t I?
“Still not curious about those letters?” she asks, running her hands through them.
“No.”
“Chicken.” With a sigh, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, she plucks one of the letters out of the pile and unfolds it. “Oh, look, this one’s dated a week ago. Let’s see what he says to her.” She clears her throat and begins to read.
“Willow,
Another nightmare. Remember that time we went camping for the weekend with only a tent, a few bottles of water, and a pizza? Reece was determined to spend the entire night, but somehow you talked him into us ditching the whole idea and taking off for Denny’s and you ordered an everything omelet without anything in it but cheese. I still laugh about that night. I’m lost here in the real world, yet you’re the one who’s dead. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry for doing you wrong. If you were here, my whole life would be different. I love you. Forever, Z.”
Her eyes flash up at me. “Wow. He loves her forever, and you’re just