“Talk to me,” he murmurs, his brows furrowing. “You’re upset.”
Beyond upset.
I want him. I want to shout it to the world. I want to kiss him in front of his old team and his new one. I want to grab his hand, march us into the kitchen at home, and tell our dads we’re seeing each other.
But I can’t.
I won’t.
The turmoil inside me is nauseating. Sweat drips into my eyes, making them sting. It could be tears, but there’s no way in hell I’d ever cry in front of the football player fuckfaces. Definitely sweat.
Canyon, though, sees right through it.
He has an uncanny ability to cut into me with just one look.
How he exposes me feels dangerous. Like a scalpel slicing through layers of skin to reveal a pulsating carotid artery. One tiny nick, and it could be over. That’s how I feel around Canyon. He’s a blade tearing through my life, digging so deep I’ll never recover. While he hasn’t done anything detrimental yet, it’s inevitable.
And then I’ll bleed out for him.
For Dad.
This life.
It’ll hurt and, in the end, it will be the death of my happiness.
“Do I need to take you home?” he asks, his voice tight with worry. “You’re kind of freaking me the fuck out right now.”
Absently, I brush my knuckles over his fist, needing his touch like I need air. “I’m fine.”
“You haven’t gotten any more texts, have you?” His worry transforms into something possessive and protective, wrapping its claws around me and sinking in.
“No,” I rush out. “I blocked the number like you said. It’s just…”
“Just what?” His brows crash together as he studies me. “Tell me.”
“Never mind.”
“Don’t do that,” he growls, his voice low. “Tell me.”
I feel like such a dick. It’s his birthday today. We had plans to go to dinner with our dads and then make it a marathon night of Mubōna Ikari. I was going to give him the best birthday blowjob—since we’ve yet to move to anything past that—and give him the present I made.
Not have a mental breakdown at track practice.
“I don’t want this to end.” My head drops, and I suck in a deep breath. “I like it.”
Canyon squeezes my thigh in a comforting move, uncaring how it might look to those around us. “It’s not going to end. I promise.”
“Faggots.”
The sneered word behind us has Canyon jumping to his feet, a furious roar rumbling from his chest. I jerk my head back in time to see Gage looming over us, his wicked glare burning into us from behind his football helmet. Canyon is seconds from knocking his ass out. I’m about to intervene when we hear a loud squeal of tires.
A car flies into the parking lot going way too fast, plowing right through the fence. Collective yells of surprise sound out all around us. It all happens so quickly, in the blink of an eye.
A vehicle barreling across the track.
Coach getting clipped and flying up in the air before the car nearly takes out two of our teammates.
It rams into the bleachers behind where Canyon and I’d both been readying ourselves to sprint just moments before. The crash of the car is a deafening cacophony of shattering glass and bending metal. I don’t realize I’m barely standing on two feet until Canyon releases his death grip on my arm and takes off in a dash toward the accident. Gage and several other football players do the same. I shakily follow, hoping no one is hurt too badly.
Canyon and Gage both head toward the car while I rush over to Coach Davies. He groans in pain, clutching his hip.
“You’re okay,” I tell him, assessing him for more life-threatening damages, and then holler over my shoulder, “Someone call an ambulance!”
“Is…Is anyone else hurt?” Coach Davies asks through gritted teeth, his face pinched in pain.
“I think everyone managed to move in time,” I assure him, though I can’t be certain. He had his back turned to the car, so by the time he heard the noise, he wasn’t able to move away in time.
“The driver?”
“Not sure.” I glance over my shoulder to see the crowd that’s formed around the car. “Where does it hurt?”
“Hip.” He grimaces. “I don’t think it’s broken, thank fuck, or I’d never hear the end of it.”
“What?” I tease, though my voice is tight with worry. “That you’re an old man who broke his hip? Coach, we would never joke about something like that.”
He flips me off, which has me relaxing. “Yeah, yeah. Help me up.”
“No,” I grunt out. “You’re not moving until the EMTs arrive. Just in case.”
His eyes close, and he nods. I take his hand, squeezing it. “Just relax, Coach. Help is coming.”
“Better me than you and Voss.”
“What?”
“Had you two not taken a break…” His words trail off, and he swallows hard. “Let’s just say I’m glad you’re not hurt.”
The gravity of what he said has my stomach churning. Had I not had my little meltdown that required Canyon to pull me aside, we could have been smashed a lot worse than Coach. Bile rises up my throat, but I quickly swallow it down.
After the EMTs arrive, I step aside to let them do their job. By this point, police have shown up, and it was determined the driver died on impact. Everyone stayed late to answer questions, but I’m one of the last to get to leave, aside from Gage and Canyon, who are still talking to an officer. I’m numb by the time I make it to the showers, sick at the turn of the day’s events. I quickly shower off and wrap a towel around my waist. Silence greets me in the locker room now that everyone has left. I’ve just opened my locker to change when I see my phone light up on top of my clothes. It’s a text from a new number I don’t recognize.
Ice floods through my veins, chasing away any lingering heat from my shower.
Unknown Number: Watch your back. Nowhere to hide.
My fingers fly over the keypad as I hurry to reply.
Me: Leave me the fuck alone, asshole.
The response is immediate.
Unknown Number: You and your daddy would like that.
Dread poisons my every thought, and I gasp for air. This isn’t a random wrong number. I can feel it with every fiber of my being. This is something else, and it’s personal.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
I freeze at the sound, terror immobilizing me. I’m right back in my bed as a child, trying to hide from the mice that are everywhere. Crawling, crawling, crawling. A whimper claws at my throat as tears burn in my eyes. My skin prickles and buzzes as though the very thought of the mice has my flesh coming alive. I’m a trembling mess when the squeaking nears. A shriek of horror bursts out of me when something touches my arm.
“Hey,” the soothing voice croons. “It’s me.”
The shuddering stops as I take in Canyon’s gaze on me, concern etched in his features. He reaches up and strokes his thumb along my cheek. My eyes flutter closed. I lean into his tender touch, needing his comfort more than air right now. His hand slides to my nape, and he presses his forehead to mine, gently rubbing his fingers through my hair.
“You’re okay. Just a panic attack,” he murmurs, words like whispers along my skin. “Coach will be fine, I promise.”