Staring at the side of his car, I let out a low whistle and squeezed the back of my neck. I crouched down and shook my head. “Wow, you really did a number on this.”

“Fuck, I’m dead. She’s going to kill me.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and the girl hugged him.

“I can fix it for you. But it’ll cost you.”

“How much? Anything.”

“Five extra-large Gitano’s pizzas.”

“Five!” His voice echoed down the quiet street.

“That’s my price if you want this taken care of before your mom wakes up.”

“Fine, I’ll get them after you fix it.”

“Payment up front. Then I’ll fix it.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared.

“Okay,” he sputtered before getting back in his car.

And that’s how I wrangled myself a week of meals through a three-minute suction cup job on the side of a tan sedan.

I climbed the steps and got out the key to my bedroom. Mine was the first door at the top of the steps, facing the back of the house. I unlocked the padlock and flicked open the hinged metal strip before turning the knob. I’d installed this the first time I came home to find my room ransacked. Even when I was sure he was on the road, the peace of mind to calm my worries that he might be destroying my shit whenever I left the house.

In the shower, I rested my forehead against the tile, letting the water flow over my sore muscles. The grime and sweat from the game washed down the drain. At least these aches and pains washed away so much easier than the other bruises I’d earned at home—the ones that didn’t come with padding and ref whistles blaring when things were out of control. I’d been prepared for these. They didn’t come in the dead of night or when I wasn’t braced for my dad’s ire.

With a towel wrapped around my waist, I opened my bedroom window. Frigid air rushed in and I bit out a curse. Why the hell had I done that? The answer tucked itself in the back of my head, trying to hide even from me.

I dropped onto my bed, flexing my hand. Water dripped from my hair to my bedspread. Every few seconds my gaze drifted to the house across the way. A light was on now.

I shot up from the bed, forcing myself not to strain to hear something, anything, other than a car driving by every few minutes.

Grabbing my boxers, I threw them on and stared up at the ceiling trying to figure out if my helmet-to-helmet contact had been too hard. That was the only thing that explained why I wasn’t out partying another win right now. Instead, I was…

It was fucking cold and I was a damn moron. I jumped out of bed and wedged my fingers in at the top of my window to slam the damn thing down.