Chapter 67

Rowena

The cheer competition finally came to its climax as Heather’s squad executed a flawless final routine, the petite blonde sailing through the air in a series of dizzying twists and turns before being caught by her teammates in a perfect cradle catch. The crowd roared with excitement, and I found myself slowly clapping along, torn between my obligation to show support for our camp and the nagging distaste I felt towards Heather herself.

As the cheers died down, the announcer’s voice boomed through the loudspeaker once again. “What an incredible display from both camps! But as you all know, only one squad can claim victory. The judges have made their decision…”

He paused for dramatic effect, clearly relishing the tension in the air. I rolled my eyes—the pageantry of it all was so ridiculous.

Still, I couldn’t deny the tiniest swell of pride I felt as he finally announced, “...And the winner is Camp Laurel!”

Our side of the bleachers exploded into thunderous applause and victorious whoops. I glanced sidelong at Eric, taking in the faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he clapped along with everyone else.

A fresh pang of jealousy gripped me as I realized what would come next.

Sure enough, the announcer raised his hands for silence before continuing. “As per the competition rules, the top three highest scoring cheerleaders from the winning squad will now have the honor of selecting their warrior escort for the upcoming Victory Dance.”

My gaze immediately cut towards Heather, who was whispering excitedly with her squadmates. I watched in a swirl of mixed emotions as her eyes danced over the assembled warriors before landing squarely on Eric.

The gleam in her eyes was unmistakable, her gaze practically undressing him where he stood.

And then her gaze fell on me. I saw that gleam momentarily turn into something malicious, her eyes flickering down to my ankle and then back up to meet my gaze.

I swallowed hard against the lump forming in my throat and turned away, pretending not to have seen her. Don’t be ridiculous, I chided myself inwardly, giving my head a slight shake. He was my brother. I had no claim over who he accompanied to some silly dance.

And yet, the thought of Eric going to the Victory Dance with Heather made my stomach roil with a sickening combination of jealousy and disgust. Before I could dwell further on the matter, however, I felt Eric’s hand on my elbow, drawing my attention back to him.

“Hey,” he murmured, leaning in closer so only I could hear him over the din of the crowd. “You alright?”

I nodded and set my jaw hard. “Of course,” I lied. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Eric eyed me for a moment before raising his eyebrows knowingly. “Look, if anyone asks me to be their date to this dance…” He grimaced, almost seeming to dread the prospect. “I’m going to turn them down, just so you know.”

I blinked owlishly at him. “What? Why would you do that?”

Eric shrugged, his expression almost... sheepish? He opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes flicked down to my ankle and he shut it again. He drew in a sharp breath before finally speaking.

“I just... don’t really want to go to the dance, that’s all.”

Before I could press him further, the first of the cheerleaders began making her way through the crowd—Alex’s girlfriend, I realized as soon as I saw her walk up to Alex. Of course she would choose her own boyfriend.

Moments later, another cheerleader sidled up to Adrian, her body language overtly flirtatious as she giggled and batted her eyelashes at him. I felt a pang of anger in my chest, not necessarily at her, but at seeing him openly accept her proposal after the way he had stood me up.

But I quickly swallowed my anger and shook my head as if to dispel the thought.

That only left…

My gaze swung back toward Heather just as she broke away from her squad, tossing her blonde curls over her shoulder as she made a beeline straight for Eric. I felt my throat constrict, panic seizing my chest.

Forcing what I hoped was a supportive smile, I turned back to Eric and said through gritted teeth, “Don’t let me get in your way. You should enjoy the dance.”

His brow furrowed in apparent confusion, but before he could respond, Heather had reached us. “Eric,” she purred, running her finger along his bulging bicep, “I would be honored if you would accompany me to the Victory Dance.”

Eric cleared his throat. “Heather, I…”

Bile rose in my throat, and I spun on my heel, hurrying away before either of them could see the tears burning in my eyes. What was wrong with me? Why was I so upset over this? He was my brother, for goddess’s sake!

And yet, no matter how many times I reminded myself of that fact, it did nothing to dull the ache in my chest.

I managed to make it back to my office without drawing any unwanted attention. Sinking down onto the rickety stool behind my desk, I buried my face in my hands and struggled to regain my composure.

Get it together, I berated myself silently. You’re being completely irrational over this whole thing. Eric can take whoever he wants to some stupid dance. It shouldn’t matter to you.

A sudden commotion from outside drew me from my turbulent thoughts. Lifting my head, I realized there was a sizable line of warriors queued up outside the door to my little utility closet.

Frowning, I rose to my feet and pulled the door open wider. “What’s going on here?” I asked, peering out at the gathered crowd.

“We, uh... we were hoping you could take us on as patients,” one warrior—a tall, muscular specimen from the opposing camp—began. “The way you handled that injury earlier was really impressive.”

Flattered surprise heated up my face, quickly followed by a reluctant smile. “You... want to become my clients?” I murmured.

A chorus of nods and approvals rippled through the group. Well, I supposed being the object of their respect and admiration was better than pining uselessly over my brother.

Nodding resolutely, I gestured for the first warrior to enter. “Alright then,” I said. “Who’s first?”

Over the next couple of hours, a steady stream of warriors filtered through my cramped little office as I assessed their various conditions and established them as official patients.

It was a bit overwhelming to handle so many patients, but flattering nonetheless—they had come to me. They had sought me out for my combat management ideas.

Heather could never take that sense of pride away from me.

As the line dwindled, I found myself crafting a checklist of supplies I would need if I was going to properly manage this new influx of clients. I tapped my chin with my pen, wondering if I might even need an assistant of my own at some point—maybe Emma would be interested in helping out a couple times a week.

Suddenly, I was pulled out of my reverie by the sound of a knock on the door. I looked up, expecting to see another warrior standing there.

“Hello, please sign the sheet if you need to be seen—” I began, but my voice cut off when I looked up to see Eric instead.

“Eric?” I murmured.

He slipped inside without a word, carefully pulling the door shut behind him before turning to face me with an inscrutable look.

Then, without warning, he reached up and flicked off the overhead light, casting the office into near total darkness.