I’ve made such a fucking mess out of everything.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I finally eke out.
Atty’s attention is weighted, but I don’t dare lift my head and meet his gaze.
“I’m going to call the nurse,” I grumble. “See if I can get more pain meds.”
“It was those old guys, right? The professor and the guy who owns the apple orchard?”
I jerk my head one way, then the other, relishing the way my neck pops, while I figure out how the hell to play this.
“They did this to you because of Sawyer?”
Yes. But also because of me.
Because I was unhinged and out of control. Thoseold guystook matters into their own hands. As much as I’d love to cast them as the villains in this story, that’s not the full truth.
I could lie. I could play the victim and ensure I keep Atty on my side of all this.
But I promised myself I was done hurting Sawyer. I can’t cause harm to the other men she might—
Fuckin’ A.
I can’t even finish the thought.
Rather than let my mind go down a path I don’t know that I can come back from, I finally look up and lock eyes with my best friend.
His bright green irises make my heart do a subconscious flip-flop. Atty’s eyes are so similar to Sawyer’s. With a shaky breath, I nod.
“It was them. But I made the situation worse. And I would be lying if I told you what happened to me was completely unwarranted.”
Atty surges to his feet. Jaw clenched, he rakes one hand through his unruly red hair. “We have to tell someone. The school, or the police—”
“No. We can’t. I won’t.”
She would never forgive me.
Pathetically, I’m still clinging to the last sliver of hope I possess that forgiveness is possible. That she’ll take me back or that we can start fresh entirely.
I won’t force her, though. I won’t coerce or threaten or cage her ever again.
Just like I won’t pit her brother against the other men in her life or give them any additional reasons to hate me.
“This is bullshit,” my friend seethes.
“It’s what I deserve,” I murmur. Then, louder, I ask, just to be sure, “You didn’t see her when you arrived, did you?”
I don’t have to specify who I’m talking about.
He knows.
Just like I already know the answer to the question.
He stops, assessing me, expression shrewd. “She snuck out when I went out to the lobby to greet Coach and the guys.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
With a thick swallow and a resigned sigh, I settle back against the pillow and press the call button.
