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Jesus Christ.
It's my turn to cover my nose. This will take a while to clean up—or maybe we should burn it all and move.
We didn't burn anything,but the process required a professional cleanup crew—courtesy of Kai with his rich-folk connections—and purchasing a new mattress and bedding.
Mack spent Monday night with me at the emergency room. My hand looked like one of those surgical gloves when you blow them up. Not taking care of it for three days, the bruises and scabbed knuckles emphasized my friends' argument that it needed to be checked out immediately. I wanted to wait until the morning, but Kai threatened to stuff me in the trunk in my vomit-covered state if I wouldn't concede.
By the time I washed off the remnants of my self-induced pity party, urgent care was closed, and my friends (the verdict on whether Zeke remains one is still out) refused to let me wait any longer to see a medical professional.
Kai oversaw the hazmat process at home, and when it came down to who would drive me to the hospital, I didn't give them a choice. I planted my ass in Mack's car without acknowledging Zeke's offer to drive. I couldn't be around him just yet, not with Kiwi being his fuck buddy.
Four hours later, the results were in, and I was ready to throw up again. I didn't breakbreakmy hand, but I managed to cause a hairline fracture in the trapezium and capitate of my right hand. I was out for the next six to eight weeks. Coach would kill me. Hell, I wanted to hurt myself. Practice was all I had left.
D called me almost daily, but I let it go to voice mail every single time. On day three, I shot her a text saying I was busy with practice—lie—to which she responded:Just practice? ;)
The two words managed to snap my carefully constructed self-control like a brittle twig. My good hand clenched around my phone, but no matter how hard I tried, the red haze would intensify. I was coiled so tightly my jaw began to cramp. I chucked the device across the room, where it slammed into the wall and fell behind my dresser. The screen was now cracked, and the sound buttons didn't work either. Add that to the list of things to replace—right after what was ripped out of my chest last week.
Every night, I saw King standing in the hallway, her arms wrapped around herself, confessing who Gray was to her. I wanted to believe that her anguish was real, that she didn't know, and she was hurting as bad as I was—or worse. At the same time, there was no freaking way it was a fucked-up string of coincidental events that led me to the girl who could've been the one. The fucking one. The joke was on me once again.
The only way to get some shut-eye was with the help of our in-house bar. I hadn't gone on another bender; Kai made sure of that by gluing himself to my side. However, I had a steady buzz going and became a regular at The Moose's Head. The clerk now greeted me by name, and it had been just ten days since my life got ripped from under me for the second time in less than three years.
Coach made it his personal mission to make me pay for mycock brain—his words, not mine. I was his star player, head in the game, and all the shit, until I let my dick think for me because of a girl. I was about to snap at him that she wasn't just any girl when I remembered who she was and shut my trap.
After that, I took his punishment and promised him—and myself—that this would not happen again. I made a point to show up early and participate in everything that didn't require the use of my injured hand. In addition, I got signed up for extra cardio sessions and became the team's personal gopher—also part of mysentence.I deserved it. And as soon as I was done in the evenings, I went home to my liquid distraction.
Kai tried asking a few times what happened, but I ignored him until he mentionedher.
We were sitting on the couch, a game on the flat-screen TV—no clue who was playing because all I cared about was how much I could drink before Mr. Functioning Alcoholic cut me off. I was about to lift my drink to my lips when my roommate turned his head in my direction.
"I've waited long enough. I need some answers. You've gone off the fucking rails and become…me." He gestured at the glass in my hand. "Zeke's boy acts all fidgety around us, like he forgot to pull his favorite vibrator out of his ass. And no one has seen your girl since you fucked your football gig by pounding a wall. Seriously, what the—"
I was on him before he could finish that sentence. My fingers curled into a fist, and I drew my arm back. Tunnel vision took over, and all I saw was Gray's hand on King's shoulder. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, and my nails dug deeper into the palm of my hand. I was shaking from trying to hold back. A voice was screaming in my head that none of this was Kai's fault.
Suddenly, my wrist was in a vise. I was being lifted off Kai in one swift motion and dropped carelessly on the floor in front of the couch.
"What the fuck, Sheats?" Zeke roared at me. "Dude, are you okay?" That was directed at my roommate.
I blinked once, twice, and my surroundings came back into focus. Zeke was leaned over Kai, who was bending his head left and right as if I'd choked him.
Shit, did I choke him?
Mack was standing off to the side with his girlfriend tucked close. Her hand was covering her mouth, and her eyes were wide. Slightly behind them, I noticed the one person I did not want to see—Kiwi.
I wanted to kick the traitor out of my house, but logic set in, and I would have had to answer even more questions that I wouldn't acknowledge.
I pushed myself off the ground and stalked to my room, ignoring all of them, and slammed my door—which I finally got back two days ago.
Since the incidentin the living room, I stay in my bedroom whenever I'm home. I manage to avoid Kai and the others for almost a week. Not being able to train with the team during practice makes it laughably easy but also leaves me with nothing but my thoughts and my new favorite hydration method.
It's Wednesday evening. I'm sitting on my bed in the dark, a show playing on my laptop that I have zero interest in and a beer in hand. I close my eyes and lean my head back onto theonenew pillow I purchased when the noise level in the house rises. God, I hope Kai is not throwing another party. I avoided the last one by escaping down the stairs to the garage and sleeping in my car—in front of King's place. Why? I refuse to analyze that. According to Kai, she's gone. No one has seen her.
Suddenly, my door flies open, and I blink against the light coming from the hallway. When my vision adjusts, I lock eyes with a tall female figure with dark, long, perfectly curled hair. She stares down at me with so much disdain that I hold my breath, waiting for her to rip me a new one.
I forgot to pick up my best friend from the airport.
Den folds her arms over her chest, making her tits push up in the top that is not Montana appropriate for the season, and I cock an eyebrow.
"If you so much as think about my breasts right now, Sheats, I'm going to shove my brand-new winter boot so far up your ass, you can admire the handmade details with your inner eye."
