But by then, it might be too late.
CHAPTER 30
TUCKER
Sloane hasn't letme touch her in eight days.
She pulls away when I reach for her, doesn’t smile when I make jokes about dicking her down. Instead of eager smiles, I get closed doors and shouted “I’m tired” responses.
I feel like I’m losing something, but not understanding what.
I thought maybe she just needed space after the family shower. My family can be a lot—I get that. But it's been over a week and she's still distant, still locked behind walls I can't break through.
"You going to bed?" I ask, standing in her doorway. She's at the desk, laptop open, surrounded by textbooks.
"I have a lot of reading to do."
"It's almost midnight."
"I know what time it is." Her voice is sharp, then softens. "Sorry. I'm just stressed about this project."
I lean against the doorframe, studying her. She's wearing one of my old t-shirts, her hair in a wrap, her shoulders tight with tension. "Sloane, talk to me. What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on."
"You've barely spoken to me in over a week. You won't—" I stop myself. "You won't let me near you."
She closes her laptop, turns to face me. Her eyes are tired, with shadows underneath. "I'm just overwhelmed right now. School, the pregnancy, everything. I need space."
Space. She needs space. From me.
"Okay," I say, even though nothing about this feels okay. "I'm here if you need anything." It feels so inadequate, but what else can I say?
"I know."
I retreat to my room and lie in bed staring at the ceiling. Down the hall, I can hear her moving around. The bathroom door closing. Water running.
I want to go to her. Want to hold her, make her tell me what's wrong. Rub her shoulders at least. But she asked for space, and I'm trying to respect that.
Even though it's killing me.
Morning practice is brutal.
“T Stag! Where's your head?" Coach Thompson yells as I miss an easy pass. "You're playing like you're asleep!"
"Sorry, Coach."
"Sorry doesn't win games." He blows his whistle. "Line drills. Everyone. Again."
I catch Alder's eye. He gives me a concerned look but doesn't say anything, just licks at the gap in his upper teeth. We run the drills until my legs are screaming, until I'm too tired to think about Sloane pulling away from me.
After practice, I'm headed to the showers when Brian catches me in the hallway.
“T-Stag. Got a minute?"
"Sure."
We step into an empty office. Brian looks serious, which is never a good sign.
