Page 26 of Penalty to the Heart

Why did he have to say please?

Trent doesn’t say please to anyone.

“Can I think about it?” I hear myself ask.

Rocks sling to my stomach when the line goes silent again.

“Trent?” I repeat. “Can you give me some time to think about it?”

“I need an answer by the end of the day. Don’t disappoint me,” he says before hanging up.

If it were anyone else, I’d be annoyed with how he ended our conversation, but I’m used to Trent’s abrupt behavior.

If he needs an answer by the end of the day, that means the club’s new owner must be breathing down his neck. If I turn Trent down, who knows how Lawrence Preston III will react.

If?

What do you mean if?

Of course, you’re turning him down.

You can’t …

But just as I start arguing with myself about the enormous mistake of taking on such a patient and what it would do to my own mental health, I catch a glimpse of the man himself walking into the underground parking lot, completely lost in thought as if in a trance.

With his head hung low, I watch him walk over to a car, completely unaware of my presence. I find myself holding my breath when he reaches his car and doesn’t get in. Instead, he just stands there, staring at his feet. It’s only when he wipes the tears from his eyes that I see he’s crying. I swallow dryly as I watch him lift his head up to stare at the ceiling, mumbling something that I’m unable to hear. He then punches the hood of the car with all his might, letting out a wail so guttural and loud that I feel it piercing through my chest and strangling my heart.

Pain—deep-rooted, searing pain.

He’s in agony.

A misery I know all too well.

Trent was right on two accounts—Caleb is spiraling, and I know exactly what that feels like.

That helplessness.

That guilt.

It rocks me to my very core witnessing it from the outside.

I can’t help but wonder if perhaps I would have made better choices if I had someone to help me through it. Maybe I wouldn’t have been stuck in such a state for as long as I had been.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Caleb Donovan needs an anchor. Someone to pull him back from the rolling tide of pain when it gets too much.

The only question is… can I be his anchor?

Am I strong enough to dip my toes in such dark waters and have the right frame of mind to pull him and myself out in time? Do I even dare return to such a place without letting such misery engulf and drown me again?

No.

I’m stronger now.

I am.

I must be if I’m entertaining the idea of helping Caleb.

Before my insecurities and self-doubt come into play, I pick up my phone and throw a quick text to Trent.

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