Page 97 of For Emery

“And?” she persisted.

“And all they saw was someone holding the front door open for him when he presumably asked them to hold it.”

“So, right there you have him trespassing,” Emery said. “He’s not a student. He doesn’t have an ID card to get in.”

“People visit all the time,” my uncle countered.

“He got inside my room,” she said, her voice rising. “Jordan didn’t go looking for a fight.”

She was getting angry so I squeezed her hand gently.

“I wish it were that easy,” my uncle said. “I’ve threatened them with every lawsuit under the sun. It’s about image. And they want to keep theirs clean. And send a message they don’t condone violence.”

Emery’s body tensed.

“It’s okay, Em.” I assured her, though I was mere seconds away from putting my fist through the nearest wall.

“No, it’s not,” she said.

I loved her for trying, but it wasn’t gonna get me back on the field.

I had a feeling nothing was.

* * *

“You sure you don’t wanna come upstairs?” Emery asked once we arrived at her dorm after a silent ride from my parents’ house.

“Yeah,” I said, my eyes averting hers. “My head’s pounding.”

She reached over and rested her hand against my cheek. “You know you can talk to me.”

I met her gaze. “There’s nothing to say.”

The sadness in her eyes was impossible to miss, and I hated that I was adding to it. But I was fucking hurting. And trying to wear a brave face for her and everyone else was getting more difficult. I needed to get the hell out of there.

“Tell me you’re gonna be okay,” she said.

I cocked my head, unable to lie to her.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” I snapped.

She winced and my stomach clenched.

I needed to get out of there before I said anything else I regretted. “I gotta get home.”

The pain in her eyes nearly leveled me as she grabbed hold of the door handle. “I’m here if you need me.” She pushed open the door and stepped out. From the sidewalk, she stared in at me. She wanted to say something. I could see it in her eyes.

“Good night, Em,” I said, wanting her to stop talking and just go inside.

She closed the door and walked to the entrance of her dorm. I knew I didn’t have to sit and wait for her to get safely inside since Wayne was in custody, but I did. And once she stepped inside, I pulled away from the curb and sped across campus. I tried to stay strong for her. I really fucking did. But I needed to breathe. And I needed to be alone while I did it.

As soon as I got home, I headed to the basement. I tore off my shirt and spent the next two hours wailing on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling beam. The hardest, head-banging, rock music I could find reverberated off the cement walls around me, pulsing through my veins. Sweat dripped down my face. Red blotches covered my bare chest.

I saw Wayne as I pounded away at the punching bag. I saw everyone I hated in this world. The athletic committee. The police who thought I was guilty. The media who made me look like a crazed lunatic.

I saw fucking red.

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