“You’re not angry?”
I’m fucking livid. With Cade. If he had suspicions, he should have fucking told me. But when it comes to Nathan… “I’m disappointed.” With him and myself. “But I can’t change the past. I need to focus on the present. And right now, I need tofind Zane.” My chest tightens but Nathan sighs, finally giving me what I need.
“I heard him on the phone with someone. He mumbled something about going home. To Jacksonville.”
“Shit. That’s not good. What time was that?”
“I don’t know. Around ten, maybe?”
“Jesus Christ. It’s been hours.”
“I’m sorry, Blair.”
“Stop fucking apologizing.” He says it once and now he can’t stop. “I couldn’t care less about me right now. Zane’s the only one I’m worried about.”
My body tenses. If he’s in Jacksonville… God. He just found out about his teammate. He’s alone. And most likely spiraling.
I take in a shaky breath, struggling to fill my lungs.
He needs me. “I’ve got to go.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Zane
The shadows move across the off-white wall of my cheap hotel room as I sit staring. Unable to move. Watching as night morphs into day. Darkness into light.
After ordering shitty room service last night, I tried to sleep. But every time I close my eyes, the image of Sie— Fuck, why can’t I say her name again? The image of my sister fills my mind, making me nauseous. It’s not even a memory. She’s blaming me for her death, telling me that if I’d died instead, it would have prevented all this from happening. But I’m not too far gone that I’d believe that notion. She’d never say that.
Even if her ghost was haunting me, those words would never leave her mouth. She’d never even think it.
She might blame me for her death, but she’d never suggest I should have taken her place. She was inherently good. That wasn’t in her nature.
She didn’t deserve to die.
Hell, Landon fucked up. He attacked Reed and Hayley andhedidn’t deserve to die.
But neither do I.
I don’t think…
My alarm goes off, signaling my impending date with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s office, but I still can’t bring myself to move.
My blood feels like lead, weighing me down as it races through my body.
I want it all to go away. I need it to go away. I can’t do this to them again. I can’t bring them all down because of my goddamn fuckups.
My phone rings on the bed beside me, and though I only manage to move my head an inch, I can still see the screen and Reed’s name flashing to get my attention. He’s not the first teammate to call since I texted to tell them I wouldn’t be at practice, but he’s the only one likely to know why.
He probably got the same call I did. Only, I’ll bet his interview can be done over the phone or with his local police, while I’m stuck reopening old wounds.
I’m still staring at my phone when it stops ringing and the notifications hit me like a dagger.
Blair—twelve missed calls.
Cade—six missed calls.
Unknown number—three missed calls.
