EVAN'S POV
The words are still hanging in the air—charity case—and I watch Nora's face crack like glass.
I want to throw up.
"Dude, savage!" Tyler slaps my back, laughing. "Did she really think she had a shot with you?"
I force a laugh that tastes like acid. "Please. Like I'd actually kiss her on purpose."
Another lie. Another brick in the wall I'm building between us.
Because the truth is burning a hole in my chest: that kiss last night was the most real thing I've felt in years. For ten perfect seconds, I forgot to be Evan Crane—hockey captain, golden boy, the twin who has everything. I was just a guy kissing a girl who made his heart stop.
But I can't have her.
Ash saw her first. Ash needs her more. Ash almost died seven years ago, and I found him on the bathroom floor with an empty pill bottle in his hand.
I won't survive losing him again.
So I become the villain. I make Nora hate me so completely that she'll never look twice when Ash finally works up the courage to talk to her. It's the only way to protect them both.
Even if it's killing me.
"Make my usual," I tell her, keeping my voice bored. "And try not to spit in it, Winters."
The guys laugh again. I hate them. I hate myself more.
Nora doesn't respond. Her hands shake as she reaches for a cup, and I notice the threadbare cuffs on her sweater. She works three jobs to stay at Frost Haven. Her grandmother is sick. Her scholarship barely covers tuition.
And I just called her charity in front of everyone.
Monster. I'm a complete monster.
She turns to the espresso machine, her back rigid. I see her wipe her eyes quickly, thinking no one notices.
I notice everything about her. The way she tucks her curls behind her ear when she's nervous. How she bites her lip when she's thinking. The small scar on her wrist from when she burned herself making coffee during finals week last year.
I notice because I've been watching her since freshman year, hating myself for wanting someone my brother saw first.
"So what really happened last night?" Marcus asks, grinning. "She just randomly kissed you?"
This is my chance. I can end this completely. Make sure Nora never speaks to me again, never wonders why I kissed her back, never discovers that for one second I let myself feel something real.
"She threw herself at me," I say loudly enough for her to hear. "Practically begged for it. I felt bad for her, standing under the mistletoe all alone, so I figured why not? It's Christmas, right? Season of charity."
The words are knives, and I'm stabbing both of us.
Nora's shoulders hunch. The espresso machine hisses, covering the sound of her breathing, but I know she's crying. I can feel it in my bones.
Stop. The voice in my head screams. Take it back. Tell the truth.
But then I see him.
Ash. Standing outside the coffee shop window, paint-stained hands clutching his sketchbook, staring at Nora like she's the sun and he's been living in darkness.
My twin. My best friend. The person I'd die for.
He looks hopeful. For the first time since the hospital seven years ago, Ash looks like he wants to live.
I can't take that away from him.
So I double down on the cruelty.
"Honestly, it wasn't even that good," I tell Marcus, loud enough for the whole shop to hear. "She kissed like she'd never done it before. All desperate and—"
"Here's your coffee." Nora's voice cuts through mine like ice.
She's standing at the counter, holding my drink. Her eyes are red but dry now. There's something different in her face—not hurt anymore, but fury.
Good. Hate is easier than heartbreak.
"Extra foam, just how you like it," she says sweetly.
Too sweetly.
I reach for the cup, but she pulls it back.
"Actually, you know what?" Her voice doesn't shake anymore. "I don't serve bullies."
Then she walks to the trash can and dumps the entire coffee inside.
The shop goes silent.
"Make your own drink, Crane." She unties her apron and throws it on the counter. "I quit."
She walks past me toward the door. For a second, we're close enough that I could reach out and stop her. Close enough that I smell her vanilla shampoo. Close enough that I could whisper I'm sorry, I'm lying, that kiss meant everything.
But Ash is still outside. Watching. Hoping.
So I let her go.
The door slams behind her. My teammates are silent, shocked. Even they know she just destroyed me.
"Dude," Tyler whispers. "That was—"
"Shut up." I'm already moving toward the door.
Not to apologize. I can't apologize. But I need to make sure she's okay, that she gets home safe, that—
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out.
Unknown Number: Well played. You almost sounded convincing. But we both know the truth, don't we, Evan? You're in love with her.
Ice floods my veins.
Another message:
Unknown Number: And now that you've pushed her away, she's vulnerable. Perfect timing. Thank you for making Phase Two so easy.
I stare at the screen, my hands shaking.
Phase Two? What the hell is Phase Two?
A third message, and this time there's an attachment—a photo.
It's Nora. Walking across campus. Alone.
And someone's drawn a red circle around her, like a target.
The message underneath makes my blood freeze:
Unknown Number: Tick tock, golden boy. Your brother isn't the only one who knows how to hurt himself. Question is: will you save her, or keep playing hero for Ash? You can't protect everyone. Eventually, you'll have to choose who matters more.
Unknown Number: P.S. Check your brother's room. He's been keeping secrets too.
I'm running before I can think, shoving through my teammates, ignoring their questions.
Outside, Ash is gone from the window.
Nora is halfway across the quad, shoulders hunched against the snow.
And somewhere, someone is watching us all, playing a game I don't understand.
My phone buzzes one more time:
Unknown Number: Choose wisely, Evan. Some Christmas miracles come with a price. And this year? You're paying in blood.
I look up at the buildings surrounding campus, searching for whoever's sending these messages.
That's when I see it.
High up on the library roof, someone stands in the shadows. Too far away to identify. But they're holding something—a phone? A camera?
They wave at me.
Then they're gone.
I sprint toward Nora, my heart hammering. She can't be alone right now. Someone's targeting her, and it's my fault. I made her vulnerable. I painted a target on her back with my cruelty.
But when I round the corner, she's vanished.
Just gone. Like she was never there.
And in the snow where she was standing, someone's left a message:
Written in red paint that looks way too much like blood:
"THE GAME HAS BEGUN."