I grab the remote, feeling like I’m out of my body, doing something I never would have normally done. I throw the remote against the wall. The plastic shatters, and my gaze shoots to Lucas, hoping I didn’t scare him, waiting for him to tell me to calm down.
“Feel good?” he asks.
“Better than I would have thought,” I admit.
“I had a therapist once who said to throw ice against a wall as a coping skill, that seeing it break and shatter can help.”
I…don’t know what to say to that. It’s not what I expected him to say. “You see a therapist?”
“Not now, but I have in the past. Many times. Do you want to go throw ice with me?”
And just like that, the tension breaks and the spiraling slows. Doesn’t stop completely, but I’m not sinking deeper, and right now that’s all that matters. “Come’ere,” I say, just as my cell begins ringing.
Lucas comes, wrapping his arms around me while I bury my face in his neck.
“This is who he is,” I say.
“Yes. I’m sorry you have to see that now.”
I’d started to see already, of course—the dinner at their house, when he showed up here—but I didn’t know the depths he’d be willing to go. I didn’t think he’d betray me this way, not after everything, which is fucked when you consider how he treats his own son. “I’m sorry it took this for me to understand.”
My phone stops ringing, then immediately starts again, over and over, while Lucas and I stand there holding each other.
I get why it’s weird that I would be dating him, why people would see a salacious story in it, and that’s what the vultures want—anything to talk about, to dissect.
But this is my life.
This is my family’s life.
This is me and the man I love.
“The real world is in now. There’s no running,” Lucas says, hand sliding up and down my back.
“No. There’s not.”
Our phones ring simultaneously—yes, the world’s definitely aware now.
I see missed calls from my agent, Mom, Des, Oakley, my coach. I call Des first, not ready to deal with the professional side of things yet. Right now, I need to make sure my best friend doesn’t think I’m some kind of fucking creep.
“Hey, Des.”
“That was fucked up.”
“Getting with Lucas?” I ask, heart somewhere near my feet.
“No, the way Blake fucking said that. I hate that motherfucker. He had no right to do that to you. You good, man?” he asks, and a deep breath escapes my lungs.
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m happy. I’m in love.”
“That’s all that matters. And hey, he’s hot,” Des teases,and Lucas chuckles beside me, having heard. “I told you before, it’s good to see you out of that fucking fog. I don’t care who leads you there. Me and you, we’re tight.”
That’s exactly why Des was my first call, why I needed to hear his deep, husky voice. “Thanks, man. I needed that.”
“Always, brother.”
The rest of the calls are somehow easier. Mom gives me an earful about how Blake Sr. will have to deal with her over what he did. Oakley is confused at first, but he’s cool with it, and by the end of the call, he makes it clear he always has my back and we’ll fucking kill Kansas City this weekend.
At some point, Lucas turns off his ringer, not calling his mom back.
