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“Prescott…” Spencer tries to call after me, but I’m already grabbing my things and leaving without a backward glance.
* * *
Cursing silently,I grab the gym towel and toss it into the hamper I’m carrying. There’s no way I’ll put my hands on another player’s shit for longer than necessary. I knew some of my teammates were nasty assholes, but this is another level because I was pretty sure that brown smudge on one of the towels wasn’t dirt.
Trying not to gag, I go back into the locker room. The place is quiet since everybody has left already.
The door opens, and Nixon walks in.
Well, except him.
He looks at the hamper. “Done?”
“Just about.”
“The equipment is all stored away, so I’m out of here.”
A grunt is my only response. Nixon picks up his duffle bag and throws it over his shoulder, disappearing out the door without another word.
Because that’s our relationship now.
Talking only when absolutely necessary.
I knew we would have to have it out soon because our game was off, and it showed. Coach was angry and had us running bleacher drills for the second day in a row. Our teammates were pissed, but that was the least of my worries.
Shaking my head, I go toward the washing room, dropping off the hamper with dirty clothes. Then I grab my stuff and get the hell out of there.
A part of me is grateful that I’m the only one around because my leg is killing me. And that’s after I’ve been icing it for a good thirty minutes after practice. Between the gym and training, I’m spent, so I drag my aching body to my car, going straight for the compartment and grabbing the pain meds. I open the lid, one lone tablet sliding into my palm.
“Shit.” Running my free hand over my face, I look at the only thing that’s my lifeline at the moment. “Shit.”
Throwing my head back, I swallow the pill. My hand falls down, and I grip the steering wheel as I force myself to breathe.
I could always take an Advil or something else for the pain.
It’s not going to cut it. It never does.
Starting the car, I press my foot hard on the gas, speeding toward home, trying to focus on anything but the pain. The drive takes about twenty minutes, with a pit stop at the store so I can get Spencer off my ass about spilling his precious booze. As I kill the engine, I lean back in my seat, my gaze going straight for the building in front of me, zeroing in on the only open window.
The dim light shines through the curtains signaling that she’s home, and once again, I’m hit with that mix of pain and anger at Jade.
Because she lied to me. Because she knew. She knew about Gabriel, and still, she didn’t say anything. Because I opened up to her, I told her something that I hadn’t told anybody else, and she… she didn’t.
She fucking didn’t.
She made me feel, she made me open up and fucking feel, and now she’ll be gone.
Just like Gabriel is gone.
Gritting my teeth, I reach for the whiskey on the passenger seat and crack open the lid, taking a pull directly from the bottle, my gaze still on that damn window.
On the shadow moving behind it.
Like a freaking ghost.
CHAPTEREIGHT
JADE
