The Worst Kind of Promise (Riverside Reapers #2)

by Celeste Briars

Kit is a different story. He’s synonymous with comfort. A lighthouse guiding me to shore in the bowels of a violent storm.

“Don’t be sorry. I couldn’t even sleep.”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,”

Love acts as a soothing balm on my hacked heart, and slowly, the pain from my nightmare begins to deescalate.

“You wanna talk about it?” I’m surprised that I don’t instantly shut him down.

Kit’s scary—I’ve seen the way he flattens players on the ice—and by the amount of blood he lost that night, I don’t doubt that Saxon looked way worse.

“Faye, the only thing I was thinking about that night was you. If you hadn’t noticed, you pretty much live rent-free in my mind.”

“After I finished ‘talking’ with him, I told him that if he told anyone what happened, I’d tell the whole world what he did. Of course, I’d only go through with it if I got your permission. So I was bluffing, but dude was scared shitless at that point,”

“You do know I’m rich enough to hire a private investigator, right?”

“You know I don’t watch Law and Order. I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Deleted texts, call records, and voice memos can be restored. It takes a while, and it’s fucking expensive, but it’s possible. So if we really needed evidence of w...

One, because I don’t have the money. Two, because I know jackshit about laws. And three, because it’s preposterous. That’s the kind of shit billionaire Mafia heroes do in romanc...

“And if I didn’t want the world to know?” I whisper uncertainly. He shrugs. “Then I would’ve been rocking a sick jumpsuit.”

“I’m not joking. I look great in orange.”

“Princess, you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that to get rid of me.”

THE GREAT PANTY PREDICAMENT

That’s not a regular piece of clothing hanging off his stick. That’s a pair of underwear.

And not just any pair of underwear, but Faye’s hot-pink thong.

A shit-eating grin inches across Gage’s face. “It’s a thong.” Casen rolls his eyes. “I know that, twat waffle. Why was it in the penalty box?”

“Someone put the sin in sin-bin,” Hayes snickers under his breath, leaning on his propped-up stick.

“I’m kinky, but not that kinky,” Gage replies. “Honestly, props to whoever had their balls out on the ice.”

Bristol sighs exasperatedly. “Please don’t ever say that again.”

“We do, but a hockey rink is the least romantic place I can think of. She’d castrate me if I surprised her with a quickie in the goddamn penalty box.”

“Nuh-uh,” I hedge. Nuh-uh. That’s all I have to say? Seriously? What am I, twelve?

The rest of the group is quiet, eyes locked on us, watching us fight like children watching their divorced parents fight.

“That is what I’m saying.”

I’m not going to be able to keep Faye a secret for much longer.

He spanked me with his hockey stick, simultaneously thrusting his steel rod of pleasure into my hot, wet pocket. “Hot, wet pocket?” I recite aloud, immediately cringing. “Aaand I need a break.”

If Kit ever spanked me with his hockey stick, he wouldn’t have a hockey stick anymore.

He did, however, underline the part where the girl’s riding the guy and wearing his hockey jersey. That was hot. And something I might have to try for scientific reasons.

Instead, I find myself slowly sinking into quicksand, so I can watch as my world tears itself to pieces.

“What the fuck?”

OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT

“It isn’t her fault,” Kit says, holding his arms out cautiously, as if that’ll act as any sort of security against Hayes’ wrath.

“You’re right. This is your fault,”

He’s a few inches shorter, but Kit’s the one who looks small right now. Terrified, with fear or regret o...

He’s so disgusted that he can’t even look at me. “I don’t want to hear it, Faye. I can’t deal with you right now.”

“Don’t talk to her like that. You have no idea what she’s been going through.”

“No idea? No idea? I’m her fucking brother, Kit. I know exactly what she’s been through, and whatever shit she wants to blame it on doesn’t exempt her from the fact that she’s been hiding this from me the whole summer.”

wrong choice of words dumbass

My brother rarely cries. The only time I remember him crying was when he’d lock himself away in his room at night, weeping over the memory of our late mother.

But I can see the fresh tears now, spilling over his waterline. I can see the amount of control he’s enforcing over the quiver of his lower lip. I can see the broken boy—from my childhood—hidden underneath.

“I told you that you weren’t good enough for her. I confided in you.” Even with choked breath, the rage swimming in the undercurrent of his tone is evident.

He wrenches his arm away, as if the mere thought of me touching him repulses him. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? Why would you keep this secret?”

“Hate me, Hayes. I’m the one who wanted to keep this from you. Not Faye. She wanted to end things. She wanted to tell you the truth.” He’s lying for me. Oh, God. Their whole friendship…I’ve ruined their friendship. I can’t. I can’t…do this.

“You will never be good enough for her,” Hayes sneers, blinking away the moisture in his eyes.

“Stop, Hayes. You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I fucking do. You know how he’s treated women in the past. Are you really going to let yourself be one of them?”

“Did you ever wonder why I didn’t want to tell you? I knew you would react like this! You are the one to...

“If you wanted what was best for me, you’d accept whoever I fell in love with, no matter who they were. You think you know me. You say that you know me. But you don’t. You don’t know anything, and I’m tired of you acting like you know better.”

I can’t believe he calls himself Kit’s friend when he thinks such horrible things about him. Is that why Kit tried to pull away from me at the party? Has my brother been feeding him lines about staying away from me?

I’m so fucking mad that I can’t think straight.