“What if I don’t want it to be over?” He spoke the words, but he didn’t know if he meant them. It had been wrong from the beginning, in all the right sorts of ways, and this felt the same. Wrong and right—a horribly apt paradox.

  “It’s too dangerous, for both of us.” Toni’s cheek pressed against his back and she kissed his shoulder blade. “But I’m not abandoning you. We can still work together.”

  “I don’t know.” Just being in her class for the rest of the year was going to be hard enough. He couldn’t imagine being in her office four days a week and not being…with her.

  “Or…” She sighed. “I can give you a whole list of names. We have great tutors in the program.”

  “I wish I could.” Henry turned, pulling her into his arms. “But I couldn’t be around you so much and not want you. I couldn’t resist.”

  “I know.” She tucked her dark head under his chin. “It’s probably better this way.”

  “I wish it wasn’t.” His voice cracked.

  “Me, too.” Her tears fell on his bare chest and they both pretended it wasn’t happening, wasn’t ending, at least for a while.

  * * * *

  “Henry?”

  “Libby?” He recognized her voice immediately. It was the call he’d been waiting for, hoping for, and now here it was, and he couldn’t believe it. “How was your break?”

  “Fine.” But Libby’s voice was wrong, somehow. Something was wrong. Not that everything wasn’t already wrong in his life. Between his roommate problem and ending his affair with Toni, he’d reached the bottom of what could possibly go wrong. Or so he thought. “I really need to talk to you.”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Not on the phone.”

  Had Dean called Libby and told her about Toni? Is that what put such urgency into her voice? And still, his heart was pounding at the thought of seeing her in person, no matter what the reason. He glanced at his watch. It was almost dinner time, but he didn’t have anywhere to go.

  “Want to meet somewhere?”

  “How about The Red Hawk?” she suggested.

  “Half an hour?”

  “See you there.” She hung up.

  * * * *

  The Red Hawk was pretty quiet for a Thursday night. They sat in one of the high-backed booths, Libby eating the Thai shrimp salad, and Henry was getting messy with the Red Hawk wings, extra spicy. They made his eyes water and his nose run.

  “I bet it didn’t snow down in North Carolina,” Henry said, making conversation. They’d had a foot of snow over the break, just in time for Christmas.

  “Henry, I need to talk to you about Dean.”

  He paused, a wing in his hands, then nodded. “Okay.” At least now he knew the topic of conversation. Maybe she knew Dean was in trouble? Had he gone to her for money, too?

  Just please don’t let her know about Toni.

  “But I have to tell you first why I was fired from the paper last year.”

  He waited, not understanding what in the world that could have to do with Dean, or anything having to do with Henry, but he was sure Libby would connect the dots.

  “I told you I did a sort of exposé on fraternity hazing.”

  “Right.” Henry remembered. “Forced drinking and all that.”

  She went on. “Well, the university did an investigation after the article went to print. They wanted to know my sources.”

  “Let me guess.” Henry licked his fingers. “You wouldn’t tell them.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” She blinked at him, indignant. “The first amendment still applies, even at a college paper. We have the same constitutional rights as professional newspapers. This isn’t high school.”

  “Then why did they fire you?”

  Libby fiercely poked her salad with her fork. “The Board of Regents said that if I didn’t leave the paper voluntarily, they were going to fire my advisor instead.”

  “Jesus.” His jaw dropped.

  She smiled sadly. “Nice, huh?”

  “I’m sorry, Libby.”

  “I’m over it.” She gestured his apology away, but it was clear to Henry that wasn’t really true. “Anyway…one of my sources was Dean’s brother, Chris.”

  Just when he thought his jaw couldn’t drop any further. “You’re kidding me.”

  “He was a senior member of the frat and he knew all the ins and outs.” She stabbed at a shrimp.

  “And he talked to you willingly?” Henry was doubtful. He hadn’t met any of Dean’s family, but he couldn’t imagine them being much different from Dean. “He knew he was being interviewed?”

  “He was…” Libby took a sip of her water. “I was dating him.”

  Henry sat back, stunned. And all this time, Dean had never said a word. Chris had graduated last year. So he was the senior guy she’d been dating, he realized.

  “But Chris wasn’t my source,” she explained. Her salad had suddenly become her focus, as if she could annihilate it with her gaze. “He’s just how I found out about the hazing.”

  She took a bite of shrimp, chewing slowly. Henry had lost interest in his wings. He just stared at her.

  “The rumors were running rampant at the time—stories about tying pledges’ hands behind their backs and pushing them down the stairs, or leaving them all alone in one room with a kitten—and no one could come out until the kitten was dead.”

  Henry choked on his Diet Coke. “Jesus!”

  “For the record, I didn’t see anything like that.” She shrugged. “But there was forced drinking. They’d duct tape them to chairs and put funnels in their mouths. One kid nearly died from alcohol poisoning.”

  “You saw this for yourself?” Henry had no real love for the frat he’d pledged anymore, but it was still hard to believe they’d done stuff like that to pledges. “Or someone told you?”

  “I saw it,” she insisted, glancing up as the waitress went by, picking up Henry’s empty chili bowl.

  “You’re a girl,” Henry observed. “How did you get in?”

  She took another bite of her salad, chewing slowly. “Because there was also a lot of sex,” she said finally. “And they hired prostitutes.”

  Henry stared, then he gaped. No way. It wasn’t possible. What was she telling him?

  “You were a…?”

  “No!” Her eyes widened but her face had turned almost as red as her hair. “But I did sign up with the escort service they were rumored to use. And I was there on the last night of Hell Week. That’s when they ‘reward’ the pledges for making it through.”

  “They were rewarded with prostitutes?” He remembered his own ‘reward’ night well enough—although he clearly hadn’t had to go through what many of the previous year’s pledges did.

  “You pledged.” Libby gazed coolly at him. “Didn’t you get laid out of the deal?”

  He cleared his throat. “They did something different this year. Sort of.”

  “Really?” Her red eyebrows arched. “What?”

  “I’d rather not say,” he mumbled, taking a drink of his soda.

  “I don’t blame you.”

  He decided to change the subject, although now all he could think of was that night with Val. Had Libby done something like that? “So you didn’t…did you actually participate?”

  “No,” Libby denied, but her face was turning even redder. “I mean, I danced and…stuff. But I didn’t sleep with anybody.”

  “Chris must have known you weren’t a prostitute.”

  “Chris wasn’t there that night. I made sure of that,” she said firmly. Her gaze dropped to the table. “But he found out anyway.”

  “How?”

  Libby closed her eyes and then lifted her gaze to him. She almost looked like she was going to cry. “Because they videotaped all of it.”

  “Oh my god,” he whispered.

  “Yeah.” She blinked, glancing toward the door where a couple was coming in to eat. Henry wanted to reach out and touch her, reassure her, but he didn’t know what to say. Then she turned her attention back to him. “Henry, I like you.”

  The words made his pulse race.

  “And I think you like me.”

  If you only knew how much, he thought. He was still at a loss for words.

  “And I’m sorry I…” She studied her hands. The fork was on the table now and they were clasped in front of her. “I know you thought I was ignoring you, but you don’t understand.”

  When her gaze lifted to his again, her eyes were wet. “If that tape ever got out, and you and I were dating, do you know how long it would be before you’d ever play hockey again? You could easily lose your scholarship.”

  He stared into her pretty face and things fell into place. It all made sense now. He’d made up all sorts of reasons and rationalizations in his head, but it didn’t have anything to do with Elaine. Libby had been protecting him. Who has the tape? he wondered. But in his gut, he knew.

  “Dean found out I was still investigating Alpha Pi Alpha and he told me he’d release it if I got involved with you,” Libby went on, her words choked.

  Henry frowned. “When did he say this?”

  “Not long after…” Her eyes skipped away from his. “After that night in the hot tub.”

  “Unreal.”

  Libby’s lower lip trembled. “He said he’d mail it to the NCAA with an anonymous note. Henry, just one whiff of a player dating an alleged prostitute would put your scholarship in jeopardy. Even if I’d been vindicated—and who knows? I signed up as an escort of my own volition, even if I was a reporter—you wouldn’t have played hockey for a long time.”

  Her confession left him speechless. If his roommate had magically appeared in front of him, he would have killed him with his bare hands.

  “What in the hell is wrong with him?” he croaked. “Why would he do that?”

  “Your fraternity happens to have the largest betting ring on campus running through their house. That was going to be my follow-up story last year, before I got fired. Dean found out that I was still looking into it this year, even though I wasn’t on the paper anymore, and he didn’t want that to happen. He wanted something to hold over my head, so I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “Because Dean’s gambling.” That much Henry knew. “He keeps borrowing money from me.”

  Libby made a face. “How much?”

  “Five hundred.” That didn’t include the five-hundred Dean wanted him to borrow from Toni—that he’d been willing to blackmail his own roommate to get his hands on.

  Libby sighed. “He’s in for a lot more than that.”

  “He’s sick.” Henry felt helpess. What could they do? They had to do something. And he hadn’t even told Libby about Dean’s plans to throw the game!

  “You have no idea.” Libby looked down at her hands again. “Henry, Dean raped Elaine. That night in the hot tub, after I left…?” Her voice dipped low, became choked. “I never should have left…”

  “Oh my god.” It took Henry a few seconds to make his frozen limbs move, but then he was over on her side of the booth, putting his arms around her. “I’m so sorry, Libby.”

  “She told me last night.” Libby buried her face in Henry’s neck. “I tried to get her to report it, but she won’t.”

  Henry’s jaw clenched. “I’m gonna kill him.”

  “No,” she said vehemently, gripping his arm. “Don’t do it. He’s not worth it. I want you to stay away from him if you can. Ask housing if you can switch rooms. Just…don’t have anything more to do with him. That’s the best we can do.”

  “But he’s going to throw the game,” Henry confessed. He’d been sitting with the knowledge, unsure what to do, who to tell, but it seemed natural to share it with her now. “This weekend against Eastern Michigan. He’s got it all set up. It’s as good as done.”

  “Oh no!” Libby pulled back, staring at him, this new information making her eyes widen. “We can’t let that happen.”

  Henry dug into his pocket, finding his ringing cell, and saw the number. Val. Not now. He let it go to message.

  “Henry!” Libby grabbed his forearm. His phone made a sound, letting him know he had a message. “If he succeeds, it isn’t just his life he’s ruining. We’re talking about coaches and players and other people’s lives.”

  “Yeah.” He was well aware of the consequences, but how could he tell someone when he didn’t have proof? And the backlash, if Dean found out he’d betrayed him…Henry didn’t want to think about it. “I know.”

  His phone rang. Again. It was Val. Again. He flipped it open. “Hello?”

  Val was talking so fast and so soft he could barely understand her. “Slow down,” he urged. “Say it again.”

  “Your roommate is in big trouble,” Val hissed. “Marcus isn’t waiting for his money. They’re coming for him tonight.”

  Henry sat up straight. “Tonight?”

  Libby watched, eyes wide, as Val continued to whisper her warning.

  “You need to get him out of there. Now.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but she was already whispering, “I’ve got to go.”

  “Are you safe?” Henry asked.

  Val hissed, “Bye,” and hung up.

  Henry flipped his phone closed, telling Libby, “The bookies are sending their henchmen after Dean. Tonight.”

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “Marcus’s girlfriend.”

  “He’s the ringleader,” Libby exclaimed and he glanced at her. Just how much did she know? She was looking at him speculatively. “How do you know Val?”

  He flushed. “It’s a long story.”

  Libby let it go. “Where is Dean now?”

  “Study group.” Henry snorted. “That’s what he calls it anyway. He’ll be back at our room by… seven?”

  Libby’s eyes were bright with something. Fear? Excitement? “I think I have a plan.”

  Chapter Nine

  “This will be perfect.” Libby popped a mini-tape into Henry’s recorder, snapping it closed and clicking record.

  He stood at his desk, arms crossed. “I’m not letting you do this.”

  “Don’t be a sexist pig.” Libby stuck her tongue out, hitting rewind and then play. Their voices came out of the little machine, sounding tinny but clear enough.

  “I should be the one,” Henry insisted. “He already told me. It would be easy for me to get him to talk about it.”

  “We’ve been over this!” Libby rewound the tape to the beginning again, leaving the recorder on the bed. “If it’s you on that tape, and the NCAA comes in to investigate, it could jeopardize your hockey scholarship.”

  “But—”

  Libby hopped off the bed, shaking her finger at him. “Listen to me. I’ve already lost everything. I gave up my job at the paper. I have nothing left to lose.” She stopped as she got close to him and saw the fierce expression on his face. “Well, almost nothing…”

  “I’m not leaving you alone with him.” Henry’s jaw was working just thinking about it. This was insane. It was beyond insane. It was downright dangerous. “No way. Not after what happened to Elaine.”

  Libby glared at him. “You don’t have any choice.”

  “I’ll hide under the bed.” He couldn’t leave her alone in this room with Dean. He wouldn’t.

  She laughed. “You’re crazy.”

  “It will work,” he insisted, going over and picking up the recorder. “And you don’t have to worry about working this. I’ll do it.”

  “You’re awful big,” Libby said speculatively, but she actually seemed relieved at the thought of him being in the room. She dropped to her knees, lifting his Hudson Bay blanket. “Is there room under your bed?”

  Henry flushed when she pulled a box out. “Hey, what’s this?” Before he had a chance to shove it back under, she’d flipped it open and her jaw dropped. “Well….that’s a lot of porn.” She winked at him. “And you said you’d never read the Kama Sutra?”

  Henry sighed. “You know that long story I didn’t tell you earlier?”

  Libby just studied him with raised eyebrows, so he took a deep breath and told her—about pledging at the fraternity, about the Fleshlight and Val.

  “So that’s what they did this year,” Libby mused, taking the cap off the Fleshlight and staring at it. “They had a competition last year too…”

  What sort of competition had they had last year—involving prostitutes? He wanted to ask, but he was almost afraid to.

  “And you won?” Libby murmured, using her index finger to prod the Fleshlight, as if she could bring it to life. Seeing Val holding it had been hot, but seeing Libby with it just felt…weird.

  “Do you like using it?” She was half-smiling, amused.

  He shrugged. “What’s not to like?”

  “And that girl who called you…” Libby put the cap back on the Fleshlight and dropped it into the box. “That was the girl?”

  “We’re just friends.” He made sure to make that point.

  “Friends huh?” Libby arched her eyebrow. “Friends with benefits?”

  “No.” He watched her shut the box and shove it back under the bed. “She’s a sweet girl and all, but…”

  “But…what?” Curious, she crawled up onto the bed to sit next to him and he remembered bringing her back here after the football game, months ago now, how they’d spent hours listening to music and talking. He’d never felt anything like it before, that feeling of being with her, just being. It was intoxicating. Addictive.

  “But she’s not you,” he finished.

  “Oh, Henry.” Libby leaned her red head against his arm. “I wish I didn’t like you so damned much.”

  His mouth felt dry. “Do you really?”

  “What?” She lifted her head and gazed up at him.

  “Do you really like me?”

  Her eyes softened and she reached a hand out, linking her fingers with his. “Did you ever doubt it?”

  He shrugged, swallowed, couldn’t speak. He’d thought nothing could be more important to him than doing what he loved, being on the ice—pursuing that dream and whatever made it possible was all that would ever matter to him—but he was wrong.

 

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