Page 20 of All Your Pucking Secrets

“What are you doing?”

My head snaps up. Anita is standing in the doorway, scowling.

“Did you hurt her?” she demands, rushing to the bed and pushing me aside. “Echo. Honey. What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I say. “Some asshole was coming onto her pretty aggressively and it scared her. I chased him away, but we need to get her out of here.”

She glances at me, her eyes tight at the corners. I don’t know if she believes me. From the suspicion painted across her face, Echo must have said something to her about our shared past.

“I’ll get her home,” she says, then turns back to Echo. “Can you stand up, honey?”

To my surprise, Echo complies, wriggling out from beneath the bedspread and getting to her feet. Her movements are sluggish, and she keeps herself angled away from me.

“Can I come with you?” I ask. “I need to make sure she’s okay.”

Anita purses her lips. “No. Maybe you really did help her, but all I know for sure is that she didn’t want to see you and now you’re here and she’s upset.”

I slump. I get it. She’s being a good friend and looking out for Echo. If only she knew I’d slice my veins open before I hurt Echo again.

6

THE PAST

TYLER

“You’re not trying hard enough!”

I pump my arms and legs faster, driving my feet across the long, narrow lawn that runs along the side of the house. My lungs burn and my muscles quiver. I’m afraid they might fail at any second and I’ll crash onto the wet grass and skid through the mud on my belly.

I reach the end of the lawn, pivot, and run back toward the starting point.

“Faster.” Dad claps his hands briskly. “Get a move on. I didn’t raise a pussy.”

Rain streaks down my face as I arrive at the starting line he set up earlier, pivot, and take off again. He’s had me out here doing shuttle runs for half an hour now. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.

Unfortunately, this is what happens when we lose a game. This time, he blamed my lack of explosive cardio training for the failure. I tried to point out that it’s a team game, but he didn’t listen. He never does.

A muscle in my thigh seizes and my steps falter. I try to mask it by pretending to slip on a muddy patch—of which there are plenty. I drag in a lungful of air, wishing I had time to appreciate the scent of rain on the concrete.

“I saw that!” Dad yells. “Keep going. Half-ass isn’t good enough.”

I sprint to the end of the yard, then return to the start, nearest the driveway, where he’s sitting beneath an umbrella, with a cup of coffee nestled on his lap.

Asshole.

I stop beside him and grab the towel slung over the arm of the chair, then mop my face with it.

“Did I say you could take a break?” he demands, his eyes flat.

“My tutor will be here soon,” I puff, struggling to catch my breath. “I need to work on that biology essay.”

I bend, my hamstrings protesting, and wrap my hand around the water bottle on the ground. I slug the water back, desperately thirsty despite the fact I’m soaked to the skin.

A muscle ticks in Dad’s jaw. “You should have thought of that before you let your fitness slide. I want twenty more, and don’t even think about slacking off.”

Anger heats my insides, combating the chill that’s long since settled into my bones.

“I can’t do everything.” A sense of helplessness consumes me. “It’s nearly impossible to get the grades you think I should and keep my fitness and skills in peak condition.”

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