“Mina—”
“You’re scaring me. Leave.Please.”
Until the day I die, I’ll never forget the betrayal on his face. The hurt.
He promised me forever. I wanted to take it. Now I’m ripping up his oath and spitting on it right in front of him.
The seconds hang. The walls keep closing in as we stare at each other. It’s cruel of me to want him to keep fighting me,refuse to leave, demand that we work this out, and promise to take all my issues away. But that would only prolong the inevitable. It’d hurt more.
That’s why I hope he sees the desperate plea in my eyes when I say, “Leave.”
The cogs turn in Leo’s head. I can tell he wants to do exactly what I wished for: deny my request and force me to fight for us. But I’m grateful he doesn’t.
He leaves the room and takes any hope I have of happiness with him.
The slam of the door rattles the apartment, and my body finally gives out. I fall onto the floor, wailing into my arm.
This isn’t the day I lose Leo. It’s the moment I lose everything.
There’s no more him. No more Joyce. No more writing. No more hope.
Deep down, I know it’ll never stop. There will always be something in this life that will keep me miserable. If not my parents, then the person with the means to destroy my life.
I crawl to the bed and end the recording. I don’t bother cutting out the sound of my cries before sending it to him.
Mina: I did what you fucking asked. Now do what you promised.
Unknown Number: Done
Unknown Number: We’re going to have so much fun together, Jasmina. Aren’t you lucky that you have more people to push away? I wonder if they’ll miss you.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Leo
“What the fuck was that?” Mitchell rounds on me the second I step out of the shower area with the towel around my hips.
“Fuck off,” I seethe. I’m still seeing red. Seen it since the afternoon Mina told me to shove it a week ago.
He’s pissed. I’m pissed. We’re all fucking pissed.
And if any one of my teammates isn’t currentlypissed, they’ll be drowning their sorrows within the next hour.
We fucking lost—ahome game—which means we’re done for the goddamn season. Eliminated. There was no universe where we were going to win, so who gives a shit that I started a pileup with the other team two minutes before the game ended?
Coach already gave me two earfuls. No one else did. They’re more embarrassed about the other team’s landslide win thanthe embarrassing—petulant, as the owners called it—display I started.
I couldn’t give a flying fuck about losing. My fight response has had a hairpin trigger all week, and what I don’t need is someone in my face when they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.
Mitchell grabs my arm. He took Jack fucking Norton’s side. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten. “You need?—”
I shove him back.
“Duval.” Coach’s voice echoes like a whip through the room.
I throw my hands up and back away, keeping my head down. Usually there’s music playing in the locker room, chatter, laughter. But now no one talks unless it’s to pick a fight.
Everyone’s been avoiding eye contact with each other since the final quarter when we realized we weren’t going to turn it around.
