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CHAPTERFORTY-SIX
London
Watching the window, I clearly see the three of them together. I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t help it.
That’s my life I’m watching. They’re moving on without me.
Scott is my only friend right now, and I need to get back to him.
Pulling my cell from my back pocket, I dial his number.
“Scott?” I say when he answers.
“London, I was worried.”
“I don’t feel so good.” My stomach keeps pitching, like it’s tying itself in knots.
“Come back and I’ll fix you some soup so you can rest,” he says. “You need to rest.”
“Yeah, soup sounds good.”
“See you in a bit,” he promises and ends the call.
My only friend.
I was on top of the world. I had friends, family, and three people I love. And now, I have one friend.
I don’t even have my sister.
I’ve texted her several times, but she won’t answer me, which pisses me off.
It seems like my life is falling apart. Oh, what the papers would do to me if they knew. London Hernandez, World Championship Fighter, Philanthropist, falls hard on his face. I don’t think they would say “fall on my face,” but it would be close.
Soaked, I climb in my truck. I want to punch someone in the face, I’m so angry.
What the fuck is going on?
