Page 150 of Puck Me Back to Life

“I haven’t heard that…in a long time.”

The confession lands like a punch. I don't ask what he means. I have a feeling I already know. Instead, I brush a damp strand of blond hair away from his forehead.

A few minutes later, I convince him to drink some water as I clean him up with a wet washcloth. I hand him a protein bar afterward.

He rolls his eyes dramatically. “I'm not hungry.”

“I wasn't asking.”

“You're kind of bossy.”

“I've been told.”

“You enjoy this.”

I kiss his cheek. “I really do.”

He huffs a tiny laugh before taking a bite. Victory.

Once he's eaten enough to satisfy me, I guide him back beneath the blankets. He immediately curls against my side again. This time the trembling has mostly stopped. I rest one hand against his back, rubbing slow, absent circles through the fabric of my T-shirt he must have stolen when I was in the bathroom.

He's almost asleep. I can feel it. His breathing grows deeper. His muscles become pleasantly heavy.

As I adjust the blankets around him, they shift just enough for my gaze to fall lower. To his thigh. The marks catch my attention immediately. Four thin cuts. High enough that they'd been hidden beneath the hem of his briefs every other time I'd seen him.

My stomach drops.

I stare.

The angle.

The spacing.

The precision.

Every instinct I have knows exactly what I'm looking at.

Not an accident.

My chest tightens so suddenly it almost hurts.

The other day, in the locker room, I'd caught a glimpse of something beneath his shorts.

I'd asked. Coach had interrupted before Kai could answer. Everything else had taken over.

Now I'm seeing them clearly.

God.

The realization rearranges the last few days in my head.

The way he'd apologized for existing.

The empty apartment.

The forgotten meals.

The panic attacks.