The clunky watch on his wrist glints under the moonlight, and I shake all over. A little whimper escapes my lips, and I clamp a hand over my mouth, crouching even lower behind the bush, praying that he didn’t hear.
But he’s too angry over the confrontation with Mom to notice, and he stomps off down the driveway, gets into the sedan, and peels away from the curb with screeching tires.
My legs give out, and I sink to the ground, shaking and sobbing silently. My entire body trembles as memories I’ve tried so hard to deny breach the final wall, surging to the forefront of my mind. I pull my legs up to my chest, wrap my arms around myself, and squeeze my eyes shut.
No. no. no. It can’t be.
Does she know, or is this just a coincidence?
A strangled sound rips from my throat as I struggle to get air into my lungs. The worst pain imaginable presses down on my chest, like someone has placed a concrete block on top of it, constricting my ability to breathe.
The onslaught in my head continues, and I cradle my head in my knees, begging someone, anyone, to make it stop.
No. I can’t. I just can’t.
I scramble to my feet, gripping the side of my head, as tears cascade down my cheeks.
I need it to stop. I need to forget it all. To make it go away.
There’s only one choice.
I need to call on my old friend Molly.
21
Adam
Ihaven’t been able to breathe for the last few days. My schedule is crazy, and with our away game coming up this weekend, Coach is keeping us late every night. I haven’t seen Emily since our double date with Carter and Rachel, which is driving me fucking crazy. She’s on my mind every minute when I’m not throwing the ball or getting pummeled in practice. Hell, even when I’m sitting in class, I find myself doodling her name in my notebook instead of taking notes or listening to the professor. Yeah, I have it bad. I’ve never experienced butterflies in my stomach this intensely about any girl.
If I’m not thinking of Emily, Phoebe’s been consuming the other part of my brain. That minor cough she had a couple of weeks ago hasn’t gone away. Mom and I know that recurring chest colds are part of Phoebe’s condition, but we don’t want it to turn into pneumonia again. Her doctor put her on meds, and she’s been using her vest frequently to clear the mucus.
I know the way I’ve been making money isn’t on the up and up. But knowing Phoebe has a working vest to help her CF is the only thing that matters. Ray can hurt me, the cops can arrest me, and I still won’t regret choosing to sell drugs. But it’s time I call it quits. Emily has cleaned up her act, and I need to do the same.
Besides, I have plenty of money saved and Mom’s bills are paid. On top of that, Mom’s new job is going well. The only thing that scares me is the money I’ve saved isn’t going to last long if something happens to Phoebe again. Maybe I should stick it out for a while longer. After all, I did commit three months of my life to Ray. And I could make a boatload more to put away for a rainy day.
Greedy bastard, aren’t you? What about Emily?
I throw my truck in park and climb out, growling to myself as I snatch my gym bag. My girl. The love of my life. Man, do I miss the heck out of her. I never thought I would fall in love. Not that I’m not capable, but Mom, Phoebe, and football have been my world. Mom is going to be ecstatic, and Phoebe. Well, my little love bug will be over the moon when she finds out Emily will be a permanent figure in my life. That’s why I have to stop selling. I need to stick to my guns and not get tempted by the prospect of banking more cash. Emily is making a huge effort, and it’s time I do the same. Ray isn’t going to like it, but I don’t give a fuck.
Hiking my bag over my shoulder, I head into the dorm, grinning like a schoolboy as I pull my phone out of my pocket. All I want is to hear Emily’s voice and tell her I love her.Who am I kidding?I want to hear more than her voice. I want her beautiful body tangled around mine as I devour her. The only problem with the latter is we have no place of our own.
I remove my phone from my pocket, when a familiar voice calls my name. I come to an abrupt halt halfway down the path that leads to the dorm. A chill skates up my spine as I pivot on my heel and find Ray Diaz getting out of his black SUV. He never goes out of his way to find me. And he’s never stepped foot on campus, at least not that I know of.
Something is up, and I have no clue, but whatever it is, that scowl on his face tells me it’s not good.
Just what I need—another fucking problem.
I march up to him, glancing around the area. I can only see as far as the streetlight will allow, but I don’t spot anyone close by. The last thing I need is for Sam to see me talking to Ray. Then it will be the Spanish Inquisition, and I’m not ready to tell Sam yet.
Ray closes his door, then leans against it, adjusting the bling around his neck.
I angle my head. “What are you doing here?” I look up and down the sidewalk just to be sure I don’t see Sam. He’s working late tonight, but he’s due back shortly.
Ray crosses his tattooed arms over his chest. “You haven’t returned my calls.”
“I’m busy.” I clutch onto the strap of my gym bag like it’s my lifeline.
“I’ve called you at least ten times,” Ray says, narrowing his eyes.
