Noah.
If he was here, he’d hold me. If he was here, everything would be better.
Stubble scrapes my neck, sharp teeth finding my earlobe. I crane back in response, giving access without permission.
Tytus.
He takes and takes, but he gives so much in return. If this were him, I know he’d take care of me. Despite everything we’ve endured, I can always count on Ty.
I wish they were here. I wish this was them.
But it’s not. It never will be again.
Hands and lips, teeth and tongue. It’s all over for me.
I close my eyes and let my head loll back against JD’s chest as a single silent tear cascades down my face.
Chapter twenty-two
Tytus
I’ve just found a position that’s halfway comfortable when my phone buzzes on my nightstand, startling me. The way my body jolts causes my healing torso to reignite like a dozen matches striking flint.
The pain is white-hot at first, then quickly gives way to a deep internal ache. Grimacing, I plant my hands on the mattress and push myself into a sitting position.
I snag my phone, and whenUnknown Callerflasheson the screen, I groan.
Yeah. Not happening.
As I set my phone down and ensure its still charging, nausea rolls through me and my head swims from the exertion.
My pain levels shot up after a day spent traveling with the team. I didn’t do a damn thing during the game except hold a tablet and warm the bench, but fuck if the bus ride there and back didn’t destroy me from the inside out.
I willingly took two pain pills when I got back to the dorm, much to Atty’s surprise. He helped me get settled, then got dressed and headed out to celebrate with the team.
If I thought I could sleep at all without the meds, I wouldn’t have taken them. I’ve weaned myself down to one pill every eight or ten hours, anxious to move past one more barrier keeping me from being on the ice.
My phone vibrates again—same unknown number.
Huffing, I pick it up and answer so I can tell whoever’s fucking calling to leave me the hell alone.
“Hello?”
“Yo. Ty. It’s your boy Bryant from the arena.”
I frown.My boy, he is not.
The background noise is almost as loud as his voice is. The asshole is probably at a party, and maybe even drunk. I’m tempted to hang up and block his number. But Atty went out, and in the off chance he misplaced his phone and Bryant’s calling on his behalf, I stay on the line.
“What’s up, man?” I ask, desperate to cut to the chase.
“Listen, we’re at that big party out in Akron.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, and fuck, I just want a little sleep.
“I’m not typically a snitch,” he goes on. “I usually just let the cookie crumble however it’s going to—”
“Just tell him,” a woman hisses in the background.
