“Don’t fucking take it out on me because you played like shit and lost the game.”
A gasp echoes down the line, and I know I’ve gone too far. “Shit, I’m sorry, Adam. I didn’t mean it. I take it back.”
“It’s too late. Look, I’m tired. We’ll talk later.”
“Adam, please. Let me come over, and I’ll make it up to you.”
“Not today, Emily.” He sounds defeated and hurt. “I think we’ll only end up in an argument, and that’s the last thing I need.”
That familiar panicked feeling settles on my chest. “At least let me come over to grab some Molly.”
A bitter laugh filters down the line. “Seriously?”
Silence stretches as I look up at my ceiling wishing upon a star that he’ll give in.
I know he’s still there because I can hear him breathing heavily. “Adam, please, baby.”
“Tell you what. I’ll hand you some pills if you tell me what happened that caused you to undo all your progress.”
He just had to go there.
And now, there’s no stopping this train wreck from happening.
An imaginary hand tightens around my throat, and I’m struggling to breathe as vivid images of that night assault my mind.
Ending the call without uttering a word, I curl into a fetal position, wrapping my arms around myself as I rock back and forth, with silent tears tracing a path down my face, praying for someone to take the pain away.
23
Adam
Igawk at my phone. Un-fucking-believable. I take in several deep breaths, but each one does nothing to repair the hole Emily seared right through my heart a minute ago.
What the fuck happened to make her use again?I squeeze my eyes shut, tugging on my hair. My head is throbbing like someone took a sledgehammer to it, and I can’t even think. My brain shut down the minute I walked off the field yesterday. The disappointed look on Coach’s face was enough to send me over the edge.
The team tried to cheer me up, telling me it wasn’t my fault, but it was. My nerves over the Bears’ scout in the stands and worrying about Emily, Sam, and Phoebe all got to me, and it showed in my performance. I growl, throwing my phone at the wall.
I need a release—something to take the edge off. Otherwise, Sam’s computer will join my phone on the floor next to his desk.
As for Sam?I have no clue where he is, but I’m relieved he isn’t here. I can’t deal with him right now even if I wanted to. For all I know, he moved out. I wouldn’t blame him. I lied to him.
A sharp pain pierces my chest, and I bury my head in my hands. I hate myself for issuing Emily an ultimatum. I hate myself that I let the team down. I hate that I let Coach, Mom, and Sam down. This isn’t me. I’m not an asshole.
I fucking love the shit out of Emily, but I can’t give her Molly.
I won’t do it.
It’s bad enough I sell to Zach who gives her the shit.
Which is an interesting thought.Why is she asking me for it when he’s her usual enabler?
She had a point though. I said I’d quit. I didn’t. Even when Ray showed up on campus, I had no previous plans to quit. I only tried to because it felt like the perfect time to tell Ray to take his drugs and shove them up his ass.
The four walls close in, and suddenly, I feel dizzy. Everything is unraveling at once, and I need fresh air. I change into my workout clothes, and I’m tying my sneakers when someone bangs on the door.
I look around for something to use as a weapon because I have a feeling Ray Diaz is here to collect his money. After my runs the other night, I told his bodyguard to fuck off when he demanded I give him the money. No way was I trusting him to hand over the cash I made to the boss. So, he called Ray. Ray laughed but relented, allowing me to pay him in person. But I didn’t have time before I left for the game. He probably thought I took off with his money.
I grab one of the ten-pound free weights I keep next to my desk, not that a weight trumps a gun. But it will slow down Ray’s thug before he can fire off a shot.
