Page 76 of For Crosby

I released a long breath, the type reserved for impossible situations. “I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Her subsequent silence sat so thick in the room you could’ve cut it with a knife. What was she thinking? What did she see when she looked at me now? A coward? A fool?

“You deserve better than me,” I said, looking her straight in the eyes.

Her face scrunched. “Bullshit.”

“Everything I touch goes to hell.”

“I’m not gonna let you sit here and throw a pity party for yourself. You need someone who’ll tell you the truth. Tell you when you’re being stupid. You’re being stupid.”

I blinked a few times, the sting of her words much kinder than I deserved. But I didn’t respond.

The silence in the room grew.

The distance between us grew.

The reality of what was happening—what I was letting happen—grew. Sabrina knew it and I knew it.

“Don’t do this to me, Crosby,” she said.

I said nothing as my eyes drifted away from hers.

“Don’t be who I thought you were.”

Her words crushed me, almost as much as the sound of her footsteps trailing out of the locker room and out of my life. And as much as it killed me to sit there and let her go, I knew she was better off without me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sabrina

“You need to look past your anger, Sabrina,” Finlay’s muffled voice carried over the music blaring through my headphones as I lay on my bed staring up at the ceiling.

It had been a week since Crosby’s game. A week since I’d seen or talked to him. A week since I’d seen the cowardly side of him I despised. And as painful as that was to digest, what was worse was that he was avoiding me as much as I was avoiding him. He hadn’t called, texted, or stopped by.

He wasn’t fighting for me.

I don’t know what I expected. Behind closed doors he’d been so strong and determined. Why couldn’t he be that guy all the time? The type who fought for me and for himself.

I removed my headphones and the country music filtered faintly into the room. “I’m allowed to be pissed.”

“Of course you are. Crosby showed weakness, but not every guy can be Caden or Forester.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

She leaned against her desk and crossed her arms. “I just want you to get over this.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never seen you as happy as you were with Crosby.”

“Do I look happy to you?”

Finlay cocked her head, not liking my sarcasm. “As much as you think he’s hurting you, the only one he’s truly hurting is himself.”

“Yeah. And I’m allowed to not wanna sit by and watch it happen. Besides, it’s not like he’s calling me.”

“Ever think there’s more to it?” she asked.

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