got a migraine, so I won’t be in and to reschedule my meetings for the day.
A migraine isn’t far from the truth. Pain pulses at my temples and behind my scratchy eyes. Last night was the first time I’ve ever cried myself to sleep. I feel pathetic and weak. Curling into a ball, I tug the blanket over my head and squeeze my eyes closed.
I need to fix what I’ve broken. I just don’t know how.
I’ve never felt so powerless and unsure.
My whole life, I’ve known what I wanted and what to do to get it. I wasn’t ever afraid of hard work. But when it comes to all this love and relationship shit, I’m completely and utterly clueless. And I hate it. I hate feeling anything less than being in total control.
That’s how I fall asleep, wallowing in self-pity like the pathetic loser I’ve apparently turned into.
I’m getting real good at this wallowing shit.
Eight days ago, I walked out on Lennon, and I haven’t had the balls to speak to her since, despite her many attempts to call and text me in the first few days. What could I possibly say to her? You broke my heart, and I can’t bear to face you or hear your voice right now?
I’ve been in a perpetually bad mood ever since. I don’t see it changing anytime soon, either.
I’m scrubbing myself down under the almost-scalding spray of the locker-room shower after a particularly grueling practice when Jonesy struts in, a shit-eating grin on his face as he chats to Fitzy. I ignore them, turning off the water then grabbing my towel and wrapping it around my hips.
I’m almost clear of their bullshit chatter when the sound of her name has my head snapping in their direction.
“Bitch is so fuckin’ hot, but she’s cold as ice,” Jonesy says, continuing their conversation like I’m not even here. “I’d fuck her if I wasn’t afraid she’d freeze my dick off.” He laughs, and I snap.
I’m across the room before I make the conscious decision to move. My hand curls around Jonesy’s throat as I slam him into the wall. “Say that again, fucker,” I seethe, getting in his face.
“Fuck off, Austin!” he spits. “You know it’s fucking true.”
“Wrong thing to say, motherfucker,” I growl, my fist flying into his face. His head snaps back, cracking against the brick. I’m about to land another when I’m yanked away from him. “Get the fuck off me,” I bellow, launching myself at a dazed Jonesy again.
“Stop!” Bates booms, wrapping his arms around my heaving torso from behind, locking my arms at my sides.
I squirm and fight his hold. “Let me go, Bates! The little fuck-stain’s talking shit about Lenny. I’m gunna kill him!”
Bates stiffens, his arms dropping immediately, only to clasp a hand on my forearm as I step toward the gutless wonder leaning against the wall for support. I peer at Bates over my shoulder. His jaw is tight, a vein pulsing in his throat. He tugs me backwards as he propels forward. I stumble a little from the force of the motion.
Bates slams a fist into Jonesy’s stomach, dropping him to the ground where Bates kicks him twice as Fitzy and a couple of other guys try to drag him away. He throws his hands up in surrender, shrugging the guys off as he steps away.
He points at Jonesy before turning in a slow circle, taking the time to make eye contact with every man in the room. “The next one of you fuck-sticks to say one fucking word about my sister is going to be eating through a tube and shitting in a bag for the rest of his life,” he says calmly then stalks from the room, pausing at the doorway to look at me. “You comin’?”
I nod, striding after him. I stop at my locker, throw on a fresh set of clothes, then we head for the parking lot. Bates halts beside my car, training his gaze on me. “What the fuck is going on with you and Lennon?”
I’ve been wondering when this conversation would happen. I’m honestly surprised it took him this long to bring it up. Running a hand through my hair, I sigh and lean against the side of my SUV. “She can’t handle being with me. I love her, man. I really do, but I don’t think she can love me back.”
His brows furrow, and he scratches the side of his neck. “What does that even mean, man?”
I swallow