I didn’t hate Declan, not by any means. I just didn’t want to be him.
As the memories ran through my mind, I pumped my legs harder, switching between plays. I cut across the court, darting under the hoop and performed layup after layup, watching with bitter satisfaction as the ball bounced off the backboard and fell perfectly through the hoop.
Memorizing the playbook was the first thing Coach Baxter had me do when I arrived at SU before the summer. The team was at breaking point. They’d suffered a grueling season after losing their number one point guard, Maverick Prince. My brother stepped into the position effortlessly and led the team straight into March Madness. But they didn’t quite have what it took to go all the way. Then the accident happened right after the tournament, and the team fell apart at the seams. They lost a lot of experienced senior players and their point guard.
So when I turned up, with my brother’s name, the same dark blond hair, and a near perfect record playing for the San Diego Aztecs, it was like I was the second coming.
The guy sent to help the Scorpions rise from the ashes.
Their savior.
Their messiah.
I’d expected some resistance from them, some confusion over everything. But it had been the opposite. The team were happy to have me. Relieved, even. Now they could look forward. They could go on and play a killer season in honor of Declan... because what better way to do it than with his brother leading the show.
Sweat trailed down my back and I jogged over to the bench to grab my towel. After wiping off, I chugged half a bottle of water, relishing the blast of icy cold liquid as it rushed through me.
I’d been here almost two hours. One-hundred and twenty minutes of pushing my body to its limits. My arms ached and my legs burned. But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed to push harder until the pain drowned out all the other bullshit.
Declan.
My parents.
Victoria.
Calli.
Her name was like ash on my tongue, and I hadn’t even said it out loud. But the second I thought of her, I pictured those big whiskey eyes and pouty lips, her slim frame and pale skin. She looked fragile. Breakable. She looked like I could clench my hands around her bones and snap her clean in two. But she had more fight.
I liked that.
I wasn’t supposed to like it, but I did.
It got me hard just thinking about it.
Fuck.
She wasn’t supposed to get me hard.
But the harsh reality was, Calliope James was under my skin. She’d never left. But all the love I’d once felt for her was now something else entirely. Something darker and volatile. An unpredictable storm brewing beneath the surface.
If she kept pushing me, I’d snap.
And if I snapped then nothing good would happen…
For either of us.
Friday was a shit show. My mom called, upset that I’d refused to go with her and Victoria to the facility.
I never went there.
I couldn’t.
But it didn’t stop her begging me to go next time, crying down the phone and making me feel like the worst son a parent could ask for. But my grief was my own and sitting next to Declan’s unresponsive body wasn’t going to change that. Besides, I was still too angry to be there. It was better I stayed away.
That landed me with a less than pleasant voicemail from my old man. He was disappointed with me, but that was nothing new.
I managed to get through two classes before bailing. After stopping at the store for supplies, I locked myself in my apartment and set to work on drinking my way through a bottle of vodka.
Somewhere around half a bottle in, the door buzzer rang. I staggered to my feet, hitting answer. “Fuck off.”
“Zach, it’s me....”
I dropped my head to the wall and inhaled. “What do you want, Victoria?” It came out slurred.
“Let me up, please.”
I’d avoided her most of the week. After last weekend, when she’d tried to make a move, I’d closed down. I didn’t want to be that guy, no matter how much my dick protested.
I was a fucking mess.
“Zach,” her voice echoed through my skull. “Please.”
My hand slammed against the buzzer and a minute later her gentle knock sounded at the door. Unlocking it, I pulled it open, and staggered over to the couch.
“Jesus, this place smells worse than a bar after closing.” She loomed over me. “You’re drunk.”
“And you sound like my mom.” She was so fucking righteous, standing there with her hand on her hip and disapproval shining in her eyes.
“What happened?” Vic crouched down, placing her hands on my thighs.
“You can suck it if you want,” my cloudy gaze dropped to my crotch and I palmed myself through my shorts, “although I’m not sure I can get it up right now.”
“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” She gave me a disapproving smirk. “Come on.” Vic grabbed my hand and started pulling. “You’ve had enough.”
“Nah, I can still feel. I’ll know I’ve had enough when I can’t feel anything anymore.”
“Zach,” she gritted out, “work with me here.”
I managed to clamber to my feet, letting her take most of my weight.
“Shower, then bed.” Vic marched me into my bedroom and shoved me toward the bathroom. “Think you can manage not to kill yourself?”
“Maybe you should come with me. Just to make sure.” I grinned at her, but she rolled her eyes.
“Go, you’re a mess.”
I stumbled into my bathroom and began tearing off my clothes. The room was spinning, the vodka sloshing around in my stomach. Tomorrow was going to be hell unless I soaked up some of the liquor.
“Hey, Vic,” I called, poking my head around the door.
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?” I could just make out her standing over my dresser, her hands on the top-drawer handles.
“Nothing.” She smiled, pushing it shut. “Just cleaning up the place.”
“Right.” She really was like my mom at times. No wonder Declan fell in love with her. “I’m gonna need some carbs.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Vic went to leave my room, but I called after her.
“And thanks, yeah, for everything.”
She gave me a small nod. I probably should have apologized for being a dick earlier. But as I stepped into the shower, I figured we were even now.
Calli
It was Friday evening, and I was deep in course reading, when the door knocked. I’d become familiar with Josie’s knock over the last few days. If knocks had a sound, it was firm but gentle, which made me smile considering she’d explained to me how she had bad anxiety but also an over-confident personality.
“Hey,” I said as it swung open.
“You’re studying?” Her gaze landed on the pile of textbooks on my bed.
“I want to get a head start.” I shrugged. I didn’t want to tell her that I needed to keep myself busy to avoid thinking about Mom... or my dad and brother... Joel... or Zach.
Definitely not Zach.
After our run-in Thursday, I’d managed to avoid him.
I couldn’t believe him, acting like a jealous psycho-ex all because Joel and I were walking to lunch. He was infuriating. Cocky and smug and so damn full of himself.