She’s quiet for a beat. “Try and find peace while you’re there, okay? At some point, those demons are going to catch up with you, no matter how fast you run.”
After we hang up, I keep hearing her voice in my head over and over, the conversation on an annoying fucking loop as I walk back to the bag and pick up where I left off.
My chest heaves as the heavy body bag sways in front of me, and I suck in a breath as I reach out with bruised, aching knuckles to steady it. Only then does my gaze catch the middle knuckle that’s split open, the wound raw and seeping with fresh blood trickling down the top of my hand. I was so lost in my head that I didn’t even feel it happen.
So numb that I didn’t even register the pain from having finally accomplished what I set out to do.
Driving my body to a breaking point.
Except now, after the conversation with Cam, I can’t shut my brain off.
Not even as I fall into bed later and cover my face with the pillow, forcing my eyes shut.
The harsh, fucked-up reality is that I’m stuck in this goddamn city, the one I said I would never fucking come back to, surrounded by memories that are so suffocating I can’t breathe.
Streets I can’t drive down, places that I can’t even look at without being haunted by a living, breathing nightmare. Everywhere I go, it feels like I’m going to drown from the weight of all of the shit I’ve spent a decade running from.
And I’m going to keep running… because what’s the alternative?
Letting them bury me the fuck alive.
CHAPTER
SIX
MAISIE
There’sa mixture of nerves and restless tension fluttering in the pit of my stomach as I walk through the entrance doors of the practice rink behind Lennon.
I promised her I’d come to today’s practice before I ever found out that Wilder is now a permanent fixture here at OU, at least for this season.
Before I even knew who he was.
I didn’t want to cancel on her, and honestly, I had no legitimate reason to do so… so here I am, about to freeze to death alongside my best friend so she can watch her boyfriend play.
Part of me is filled with anticipation at the prospect of seeing Wilder again, but therational, non-horny part of me is completely dreading it. Clearly, there’s an intense game of tug-of-war happening inside me.
I shouldn’twantto see him ever again. He was a total asshole the last time we saw each other, and he made me feel… dirty.
Childish. Easily tossed away.
And I hated feeling that way.
Especially after what we did together that night.
But then there’s this part of me that wants to explain away the way he behaved, excusing the way he treated me because hewas caught off guard and irrationally thought I had… planned this.
That’s not the strong, take-no-shit, feminist part of me, so it’s promptly being ignored and pushed down right where it came from.
I trail behind Lennon as she climbs into the stands, stopping when she spots Saint, who shoots her a wink and lifts his stick toward her. I can feel her practically ooze into a puddle like a melted piece of ice right at my feet.
She’s got it bad. And I love that for her—truly, I do. It’s part of the reason why I decided to embark on my own journey of self-discovery. Witnessing her come into herself and break the chains that her parents had placed on her so long ago was such a beautiful thing.
It was eye-opening, and it made me stop seeing so many things in black and white and start to want to experience life in vivid color.
For the first time in my life, I am.
“Ugh, he’s so hot.” She sighs, flopping down onto the bleacher seat, a sweet, lovesick grin on her face as she watches her man. “I don’t think I’ll ever actually accept the fact that he’s mine. That’s weird, right?”
