Slowly, I attempt to roll onto my back to ease the pressure, but it’s no use. I’m screaming so loud, it seems silent. I cradle my shoulder with my left hand. Roaring about the pain, and for everything I know I’ve just lost.
Everything I worked so hard for.
I don’t need a doctor to tell me the outcome.
I search for hope that this isn’t the end of my football career, but the pain shooting down my arm and through every bone in my hand tells me otherwise.
My fucking shoulder.
As if the attackers hadn’t done enough damage, one of the masked men hovers over me, crouching down to my level, the sound of the sirens growing louder and louder.
"You deserve nothing less,” he whispers to me, spitting on me and stomping on my leg above my knee, then laying his boot into my head.
That’s when everything turns black.
thirty-nine
Cassandra
A week.
I stayed in California for a week, hoping Jenna’s apartment would swallow me whole.
I’ve been avoiding all contact with everyone from the outside world, trying to pretend that everything was blissful and not at all about to fall apart. But avoiding the world meant avoiding Harley, and I hated that I felt like I had to.
It felt like I was betraying him, but I guess I have been.
Time has been at a standstill.
At least, for me, it has been.
It felt like I was almost paralyzed by it, and the only person who could bring me back to life was the person who could take it all away again. I wouldn’t even be able to blame him if he tried.
Austin and I have been broken up for six months now. Most people would tell you that six months isn’t long enough to grieve and mourn a lost love and relationship. But when that personends up being the wrong person for you, and the right one comes along? Moving on is effortless.
Falling inloveagain is pretty easy, and boy, have I fallen in love with Harley Wingrove.
It snuck up on me quicker than I expected it to, and now that I've accepted it, it's crushing me like a tidal wave, knowing he may not love me back. Or worse, knowing he does, but won't be able to forgive me for keeping this from him. But I’m not afraid of the feelings that I have.
Six months ago, I thought my heart was shattered beyond repair. I thought it would never be capable of beating the way it used to. It may be a little bruised and completely terrified right now, but it feels…different.
Stronger, almost.
Deep down in my heart of hearts, I know everything will happen the way it’s supposed to.
How am I supposed to tell him? Do I just blurt it out? Do I start from my coffee with Alison? I don’t fucking know.
But I do know that it’s time to face the music, and that’s exactly what I’m about to do.
It’s getting late, the sun is setting, and I can see the lights on under the front door of his apartment, telling me he’s home, and awake.
Taking a deep breath, I tap my fist on his door and wait until my eyes are met with the most incredible emerald one's staring back at me. His hair is messier than usual. He’s still wearing his grey suit from the day, but his tie is hanging loosely around his neck. His sleeves are rolled up while he cradles a glass of scotch in one hand.
"Herring,” he whispers, almost breathless. He wasn't expecting me home.
"Hi,” I say back, pulling my eyes away from his, terrified to look in his direction, but he doesn’t let me.
Dragging me by my hand, inside his apartment, he holds my body against his for a long, much-needed embrace, and I allow my whole body to sink into his, knowing it's temporary.
