Page 55 of Worse Than Enemies


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“What if they can’t? What if they’re afraid to?”

“They probably have their own reasons for being afraid. And you don’t get to decide if those reasons are good enough.” There’s an edge to her voice that makes my eyes widen in surprise. “You’re not the only one who decides what’s right and wrong, you know.”

“I know that.” I can’t help but feel defensive. “But if I see something wrong and I know somebody’s hurting, isn’t it wrong to pretend I don’t know about it?”

“Did that person ask you for help? Did they come to you?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you need to mind your own business.”

“Wait a second, hold on. What do you think I’m talking about?”

“Me! Like you still want to go to the police over what happened with Logan.” So much for never saying his name again.

“That’s not even what I’m talking about.”

“Wait. It’s not?”

“No. You were right about not going to the hospital. They would only have blamed it on you. This is something totally different.”

“What is it?” She leans in a little, speaking in a whisper.

“No, it’s not my place. You’re right about that.”

“But you really think somebody’s getting hurt somehow?”

The image of Coach Greg on his knees flashes in front of my mind’s eye. “I think so.”

“That’s a lot to carry around. It really isn’t your responsibility to take care of everybody in your life, you know. I know from what you’ve told me that it wasn’t easy growing up with your mom and how she kind of left you on your own. And then you took care of your sister all these years. But you don’t have to take care of every single person around you.”

“I know you’re right. I wish it was easy to believe it.”

We say goodbye and make plans to meet up in the cafeteria first thing in the morning before I drag my feet into the house. Lucy is way too busy playing a game with Bridget to care much about my being home, which isn’t easy to come to grips with. I’m used to being the center of her world, or at least part of it. But this is the way it’s supposed to be, I guess.

Before I go to the kitchen, I kiss her on the head. I stuffed myself on popcorn at the movies—it seems my stress reaction has turned to overeating rather than being too upset to swallow a bite. I grab an apple to at least balance things out a little before heading up to my room to finish my homework.

At least Salem didn’t put things together in the car. I don’t even want to imagine what Hayes would do if I let it leak that I think Coach Greg is abusing him.

It’s like he hears me thinking about him. I barely have time to turn around in my chair before Hayes is in the room, locking the door behind him. His eyes flash as he crosses the room, pulling me out of my chair before pushing me up against the wall.

“What were you doing there? Why did you have to be there?”

“At school?”

“Where else? During practice. Why do you have to be in my world? Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“It was Salem’s idea.”

“You sure about that? Was it Salem’s idea to sneak around and spy on me?” He leans in, his breath hot on my face. “Or did you just want to see me in my Speedo?” He actually barks out a laugh, confusing me more than ever.

“Let go of me.”

“Not until you tell me why.” He catches me by the throat, holding tight. His eyes are wild, his teeth bared. “Tell me.”

I lift my chin and stare straight at him. “I know you’re not going to hurt me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He slams his fist against the wall, close to my head. “You don’t have the first fucking clue what I’m capable of.”

“I do. I know this isn’t who you are.”

“You. Don’t. Know. Me.” His breathing is heavy, erratic, eyes darting back and forth over my face. “So stop pretending like you do.”

“Why are you doing this? You don’t have to. I have nothing against you. I’ve never tried to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to try.” His grip on my throat eases until it’s more of a caress. What’s he doing now? Is this a game? “You don’t know what you do to me.”

My heart’s racing, but for a different reason. This is all it takes. The slightest shift, and I find myself melting into him. “I don’t mean to.”

“That’s what makes it so infuriating. You don’t even know you’re doing it.” Hayes slides an arm around my waist and turns me around, backing me up against the bed where we both tumble onto the mattress.

I know what he means about infuriating because this is infuriating me, too. The way he goes from threatening me to touching me the way he is now, taking me from fear to craving.

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