Page 9 of Callous Shot

“You were only a child at the time.”

He sighed. “Even so. All this is on me. You don’t need to be involved.”

“Yeah.” I tipped my head back, my eyes falling closed. “I’ll try to stay out of it if I can.”

Easier said than done when it came to Daniel fucking Hoyton.

4

DAN

“Arson! Neil’s here.”

My head jerked up at the sound of Jay’s voice so close to my ear. “Huh?”

“Neil’s at the door.”

“Oh, okay. Carry on my game. Don’t let me die.” I passed him my PS5 controller, and he rolled his eyes at me.

“What’s it worth?”

“You still owe me. Do I need to bring up the time you voluntarily hung out with my nemesis again?”

“Do you need to? No. Yet you do. Frequently.” He smirked, so I gave him my middle finger. It wasn’t true, at all. I’d mentioned it once or twice. Three times, max. Maybe four. Five at a push. But it had been a betrayal of epic proportions. Jay had done some hockey drills with Lincoln Bellingham, which was borderline unforgivable. Okay, it was because he was frustrated with the fact that our goalie, Anton Volkov, had been antagonising him with the reminder that he was getting engaged to Nova, and maybe I had overreacted a tiny bit and goaded him into a fistfight during Anton and Nova’s engagement party, but even so. Lincoln was infiltrating every area of my life, even the fun parts, and I didn’t like it one bit.

Leaving my annoying, smirking housemate to probably kill off my character, I vaulted off the sofa and jogged over to the door, where my uncle was indeed loitering.

“You can come in, you know. You don’t have to skulk around the outside like a salesman getting ready to sell me dodgy double glazing.”

Neil lifted a brow, gesturing to his worn jeans and battered tan leather jacket. “You think anyone’s gonna mistake me for a window salesman?”

“You never know.” I shrugged. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to pass a message⁠—”

Before he’d even finished the sentence, I was holding up my hands and groaning. “Me and Bellingham are not your personal errand boys.”

“Me and Bellingham.” He laughed. “Has a certain ring to it.”

“It fucking does not.” I huffed out a defeated breath. “Fine. What is it, and when do I need to get it to him? I don’t get why you can’t pass it to his uncle yourself.”

“You know why,” Neil said. “Mike can’t be seen to be in contact with me. You have an excuse. Both students, both hockey players, both⁠—”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s all we have in common.”

He did a fake cough and muttered something under his breath that sounded like “Both obsessed with each other.” I glared at him, and he affected an innocent expression. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Course not. Just give me the info. I wish you’d switch to digital. Then I wouldn’t have to interact with him at all.”

“Digital information can be hacked. Paper is far safer. We can burn after reading.”

“Hey, remember when I used to help you burn things?”

He grinned, reaching up to ruffle my hair like he did when I was a kid. The effect was kind of ruined since I was taller than him now, but he was undeterred. “My little Arson. Always so willing to help me out, especially if it came to setting fire to incriminating evidence. What happened?”

“What happened was that I don’t get to burn anything anymore, and I have to suffer Lincoln Bellingham’s excruciating presence.” I sighed heavily. “It was so nice when he was away at boarding school and I didn’t have to remember he existed. Those were the days.”

“If you say so. Anyway, here’s the note. The Kings are playing the Flames tomorrow, right? It can wait until then. No need to make a special trip…unless you want to.” He handed me a small sealed brown envelope that I stuffed into the pocket of my joggers.