Unloved (The Undone, #2)

by Peyton Corinne

I can be whoever I want to be.

But I’m determined I can get her to like me. She’ll be my friend. I can be whoever I want to be.

I want to let loose, but I’m not sure how.

Frustrated, I blow out a breath and do what I know best: people watching.

And I know Sadie enough now to know she won’t leave. Loyal to a fault, like me.

I’d like to say I’m part of a trio, but I’m the third wheel if anything.

But Bennett took Rhys’s icing us out harder, because Rhys wasn’t just his captain. His best friend had completely shut him out. For four months.

Sadie Brown carries herself like she’s the tallest person in the room.

I’ll be whatever you want me to be.

But you’re you.” I’m used to it, but for some reason the words land like a solid punch. For a moment, I don’t want to be known for what I am.

“You’re incredible.” I’ve heard those same words so many times, but the way she says them, they sound more genuine somehow.

But outside of that? I’m… nothing. I’m a fucking failure at using my brain—anything beyond the physical is pointless for me to even attempt because I’m nothing when I’m not using my body. But… this feels different.

“I’m not brave or cool or anything fun, I’m just… I’m careful. I’m good, and it’s still not enough. I want to be more.”

“If you’re jumping, I’m jumping.” I shrug. “You are?” “Why not?” I smile. “Unless you want to do it alone.” Rosalie shakes her head rapidly. “I hate being alone.” Me, too. “Great. Then I’m not leaving you alone, Ro,” I whisper,

“I think it’s hard for people to like me. And I try really hard.”

“I think you’d be really easy to love,” she says. It’s a lax, whispered compliment, one she doesn’t know sounds like a gunshot in my head, hitting me straight in the chest.

“Good to see you again, princess,” he says, the words soft. My cheeks heat. “I missed you.”

Does he know how openly he’s wearing his emotions in this moment, without his perpetual flirty smile?

She’s still as pretty as the first time I saw her,

But the way Ro watches me feels different. Not covetous, but inquisitive, like she’s trying to see something deeper.

then tilted my entire world by saying that it would be easy to love me? When it’s a fucking hardship for everyone else”?

Sweet dreams, princess.

A little of the anxiety in me fades. Mostly because when Ro looks at me, I don’t feel like she’s judging me.

I hate fighting, so much that I concede every time. It’s easier that way.

Matt Fredderic might be flirting with me.

“And I score on defended nets all the time.” Freddy shrugs, then leans across the now-too-short table to peer up at me with playful eyes and a pretty smile. “The goalie makes scoring more difficult, not impossible.”

Rhys thrives in our group, happy around everyone and always the brightest star of us all.

but Rhys is the good friend. Kind, smiling, always happy. Golden.

I roll my eyes, but my expression quickly changes to a pleased smile, because as usual when I’m around him, I feel more at ease.

“If you were my girlfriend, Rosalie,” he says, his voice deep and rough. My full name is like warm honey dripping from his lips. “You wouldn’t have to do anything to convince me. Just a fucking smile and I’d be a goner, okay?”

“So maybe ask someone smart, like Bennett or Rhys.” “Okay,” I say. “Do you have their numbers?” His eyes go wide, body shooting upright. “Do not ask them anything.” “But you just said—” He looks mildly frantic. “Forget what I said,” he growls, and rubs his hands over his face.

But if he wants to keep his pain and secrets to himself, so be it. I know my place. I’m not really part of the Koteskiy-Reiner duo. I’m the pretty third wheel.

Ro looks gorgeous. She’s so smart, kind, and funny, too.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For there to be something to offset the pure luck of having Ro on my team, that she’s truly on my side—that she cares so deeply about what I understand that she truly wants to help me.

But it’s enough for me to have this with her, too, to be her friend, if she’ll let me.

I make a vow then to protect her, the pretty girl with butterflies in her messy curls, even if she’ll never really be mine.

“I’ll be your friend, Ro,” I say. “I want you to see me as your friend.” “I’d like that, Matt.”

She smiles, small and gentle, and I feel another layer of care and protectiveness reach out from me to her. A friend—not because of being on the same hockey team or some kind of trade-off. Just my friend, because she wants to be.

“Hey, Freddy?”

“Yes, Rosalie?”

“Medicine doesn’t make someone smart. And ADHD doesn’t make you not smart.”

Medication is a step stool, not a cure.”

He smiles, but it’s the mask one he always uses with everyone else. My stomach sinks further. But I match his mask with one of my own and lie.

My thumbs-up does little to dampen the intense expressions of the now-three overprotective hockey players—two forwards and a hulking goalie—watching, especially when Tyler grabs my chin and turns my face toward his a little roughly.

He’s so in his element, like he was truly born to play. It’s clearly a natural talent, one that he’s honed and trained to perfection. He’s so beautifully happy. I think I could watch him play forever.

I try to give her as much time as she needs in my embrace. How many times have I wished for exactly this? For someone to give me simple affection and ask nothing else of my body? True comfort. So I can give her this. I want to, desperately.

And not just for how good it feels to be needed, but for how it feels to be needed by someone like Ro. Because I respect Ro; I look up to her, like a role model. She is kind and welcoming, helpful—and there’s no ulterior motive.

I wait for anything to show me that my friend needs me. That he trusts me enough to need me.

But I’d lived entire lives, thousands of them, in books.

Shine brighter, Ro, but not too bright; not brighter than him.