I suck air into my lungs, hoping to calm myself, but it doesn’t work. My hands are shaking. My heart is beating too fast, each thump-thump vibrating with fear that I feel straight to my bones.
“I can’t lose you,” I whisper.
“You won’t.”
He pulls me away from the landing and draws me into his arms. Easton disappears into his room as I press my face tight against Reed’s muscled chest.
“Everything will be okay,” he says gruffly, his fingers sliding through my hair.
I feel his heartbeat against my cheek, and it’s steadier than mine. Strong and even. He’s not afraid.
And if Reed, the guy who was just arrested, isn’t afraid, then I need to take his lead. I need to borrow his strength and conviction, and allow myself to believe that maybe, for the first time in my screwed up life, everything will be okay.
5
Reed
“Think word’s already spread, bro,” Easton mutters under his breath.
I shove my shit into my locker before surveying the room. Usually chatter and jokes are tossed around the locker room during our early morning practice, but everyone is quiet today. A number of eyes slide away, not willing to meet mine. My gaze ends on Wade, who winks and gives me the thumbs up. I’m not sure what that means, but I appreciate the support. I return the gesture with a brief nod.
Beside him, our left tackle, Liam Hunter, stares at me. I give him a nod of acknowledgement, too, just to piss him off. Maybe he’ll come at me and we can work out some of our aggression on the tile floor. I lift my hands to motion for him to come forward, but then the lawyer’s admonition rings in my ears.
“No fighting. No detention. No bad behavior.” Dad had stood next to Grier outside the police station, glowering as the lawyer reeled off instructions. “One wrong step and the prosecutor will be all over it. You have that assault charge for whupping that kid’s butt at your school last year.”
I had to bite a hole through my tongue to keep from defending myself. Grier knows why I beat that boy’s face into a pulp, but I’d never hurt a woman.
Though if there ever was a woman who needed hurting, it was Brooke Davidson. I hadn’t killed her, but I’m sure as hell not sorry she’s dead.
“You shouldn’t be here,” a low, angry voice says from behind me.
I pluck the athletic tape out of my gym bag before turning to face Ronald Richmond. “That so?” I say easily, taking a seat on the padded metal bench in front of my locker.
“Coach kicked Brian Mauss off because he accidentally hit his girlfriend.”
I roll my eyes. “As in her face accidentally fell onto his fist and she sported a shiner for three weeks and all her homecoming pictures had to be digitally altered? That accident?”
Beside me, Easton snorts. I finish wrapping my hands and toss East the tape.
Ronnie scowls. “About as accidental as you offing your dad’s trashy girlfriend.”
“Well, then you’ll want to tuck away Brian the Abuser’s invite, because I didn’t kill anyone.” I give him my friendliest smile.
Ronnie juts his weak chin. “That’s not what Delacorte is saying.”
“Daniel’s not around to talk about shit.” My dad had that rapist asshole shipped off to a juvenile military prison.
“I’m not talking about Daniel,” my teammate sneers. “Judge Delacorte was over having drinks with my dad yesterday and he said the case against you is open and shut. Video shows you went into the apartment. Video shows you leaving. Hope you like getting it up the ass, Royal.”
Easton starts to rise. I clamp a hand around his wrist and drag him down. Around us, the team looks uneasy, some of them whispering to each other.
“Judge Delacorte’s dirty as hell,” I answer coldly. He tried to bribe my dad to prevent Daniel from being punished. It hadn’t worked, so I guess now he’s coming after me to stick it to my father.
“Maybe you don’t belong here.” Liam Hunter’s quiet voice slices through the room.
We all swivel toward him in surprise. Hunter’s not much for talking; he’s all about action on the field. He doesn’t run with our crowd, despite the numerous invitations that I know come his way. He keeps to himself. The only person I’ve seen him hang around with is Wade, but then again, everyone gets along with Wade.
I quirk an eyebrow toward my friend, who responds with a small shrug. He’s as clueless as I am about Hunter’s thoughts.
“You got a problem with me, Hunter? Say it.”
This time when Easton pushes to his feet, I don’t stop him. As for me, I remain seated. As much as I like to solve my arguments with a fist, the lawyer’s warning sits like a weight on my shoulders.
“We want to win the State Championship,” Hunter points out. “And that means no distractions. You’re a distraction. Even if you didn’t do it, there’s still going to be a lot of negative attention.”
Even if I didn’t do it? It’s a big step from beating some kid’s face in for trying to smear my mother to actually killing someone, but the entire locker room appears to be making that leap today.