Page 14 of Blitz

“You want to dance?”

“Sure.” Fred pauses to check on me. “You’ll be okay?”

“Go, go, dance, have fun,” I urge them. “I’m fine.”

Sullivan laughs and takes her by the hand, pulling her into the throng of people grinding on the makeshift dance floor. I take a sip of my drink and make my way through the party. There’s a group of guys playing video games in the den. The guy on the right, with the caveman beard and man bun, looks me over with interest. I think he’s one of Tuck’s friends. I pause in the doorway with a group of other girls watching the show.

“Play for me,” he says, thrusting the controller into another guy’s chest. He lumbers to his feet and makes his way over to us.

“I need to talk to you,” he says, his voice a deep, rumbly burr.

The girls titter and giggle.

The giant nods his head towards the hallway. He’s tall, about as tall as King, and equally wide. Probably another defensive player. He spent most of his time in high school hanging out with the rest of the defensive squadron if he wasn’t with me and Micah.

“I’m Greg,” he says, offering me his hand.

Surprised, I take it. His palm is warm and calloused.

“Mason.”

“You and Tucker…”

I wince. “So he’s mentioned me?”

“Never. Not once.” He watches me carefully, his green eyes thoughtful. “Whatever happened between you, it really messed him up. He doesn’t party, doesn’t hook up. He exists. He survives the day-to-day. He doesn’t live.”

“We didn’t work out. It was a matter of timing.”

He holds up a hand. “You don’t need to explain it to me. All I’m saying is, you hurt him. And I don’t know that you suddenly waltzing back into his life is good for him.”

“What about what’s good for me?”

“I don’t care about you,” he says bluntly. “I care about him. We’ve spilled blood and sweat together the last two and a half years. He’s a good guy. And if you’re just going to screw him over—”

“I’m not.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I loved him. He was my everything.”

He hums. “And that’s why you dumped him.”

“I did what I thought was right at the time.” Now I wish I never had. “Is he… upset?”

“He’s messed up,” Greg says flatly. “You need to take a real hard look at yourself and decide what you want from him. Don’t mess him around. He’s a good guy. If you don’t want him, let him find closure on his own. He needs it.”

I don’t know what I want. I just want him.

“Thank you for looking out for him.” My voice breaks. “He needs someone to—”

“He’s my friend,” he says. His eyes soften and he clears his throat. “For what it’s worth, I think he really loved you.”

“I really loved him, too.”

He nods. “That’s it. I’ve said my piece. Go on, frolic, be merry.”

I laugh. “Can I get you a drink?” It’s the least I can do.