False Start - Jessica Ruddick Page 0,90

didn’t have a plan B.

***

Becca

I GOT A text from an unknown number around ten a.m., telling me that Carson was out of surgery and everything went well. I assumed it was Jake, and I appreciated that he thought to contact me. I hadn’t expected to hear from Carson at all, and I guessed I technically still hadn’t.

Sighing, I tried to pay attention to the lecture. But just like the previous day, it was pointless. Knowing Carson’s surgery had gone well was only part of the puzzle. His injury had unleashed something inside him that a cast wouldn’t help. Apparently, I couldn’t help him either. Or at least he didn’t want me to, which was even more troubling.

I didn’t get it. Before we’d gotten together, I’d considered Carson my family here on campus. I’d thought he felt the same, but maybe I was wrong.

No, I’m not wrong. Carson loved me—I knew he did. This was uncharted territory, and frankly, I would have been happier if I’d never had to chart it.

After lunch, I decided to blow off my afternoon classes, which was a first for me. But I needed to check on Carson. Hopefully whatever stick had been up his ass had been dislodged, and he would let me help him like he’d helped me after I’d been hurt.

I left campus and stopped at the store to pick up a few get-well presents, then I headed to Carson’s. When I walked up to his front door, I could hear the TV, which was an improvement. He usually had it on in the background, so that was a sign that he was getting back to normal. I let myself in but stopped myself before calling out when I saw him asleep on the couch.

I knelt next to him, surveying the dark-blue cast on his arm. I wondered if he got to pick the color. My gaze traveled to his face. He hadn’t shaved since before the game, so the stubble on his cheeks had gotten so long, it was the beginning of a beard. He let it grow sometimes, like that one no-shave November our freshman year that had stretched into March. By the time he shaved, he’d looked like a mountain man. Still sexy as hell, though.

Though he normally looked peaceful while he slept, now his expression was twisted, as if what plagued him in life was also bothering him in his dreams. Not able to stop myself, I put my hand on his cheek, wishing I could help him, wishing he would let me try.

His eyes fluttered open, and I cringed. “Sorry,” I said softly. “I came by to see how you are.”

He looked around in confusion. “What time is it?”

“Two. Look, I got you something.” I fished around in my shopping bag and pulled out a pack of black Sharpies. I grinned. “Now everyone can sign your cast. Hopefully the black will show up on the blue. Maybe I should get silver.”

“You have class.” He still seemed out of it, making me feel terrible for waking him up. I wondered if he was in pain from the surgery. Regardless, rest was the best medicine.

“Do you want me to help you upstairs?” I asked. “You’ll sleep better there.”

“I don’t want your help.”

I should have been used to his harsh words after the last few days, but I would never get used to this bitter, unfeeling Carson who fired off words that cut me. I wanted to believe we could get through anything, but with every inch he pushed me away, another shard was shoved into my heart, pushing it closer to breaking.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I stood and went to the other side of the room. I didn’t want to do this now, but I couldn’t take it. “Why are you pushing me away? Why won’t you let me be here for you?”

“It’s for your own good.”

I spun to face him. “Excuse me?” For the first time, the pity I felt for him was replaced with anger. Who the hell was he to tell me what was good for me when he didn’t even know what was good for himself? He was falling apart before my eyes.

He covered his face with his hand, and I wanted to rip that hand away. The least he could do was look at me when he was tearing me to shreds. “You know I’m no good for you.”

I didn’t know that, not at all, but he’d said it so factually that he no