Page 32 of Ricochet

Oh.

The epiphany crashes into me like a tsunami, drowning me in every moment, every hint, when I should’ve realized the truth.

I’ve been a fucking moron.

“That’s why you hate me.” I don’t phrase it as a question. “Because I saw something I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations. Finally, figured it out, huh?”

“You blame me after all this time for something I couldn’t control?”

“You could control more than you think.”

He’s still drunk, so maybe he doesn’t even know what he’s talking about. Because I sure as hell don’t.

“Look, I realized it probably bothered you, but I didn’t think…” I sigh, frustrated, and run my hand over my face like if I can wipe my vision clear, I can press reset on this whole disaster of a night. “I’ve done my best not to—”

“Not to what? Not to look? Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Then, in one fluid motion, he grabs the bottom hem of his shirt and lifts it up, exposing his torso.Forcingme to look.

And there it is.

The final nail in the coffin that belongs to any piece of me that tried to not make this personal, to not care. To forget. To keep him safe from the darkest parts of me. The parts that are now breaking free of their cages and clawing their way to the surface, bleeding me dry with their claws and their teeth.

“You’re looking now, aren’t you?” he snaps.

Yes, I am.

The scars are faint, but they still stand out against his pale skin, illuminated by the apartment lights. There aren’t many, but there are a couple that look like they were once long, deep cuts. One across his lower abdomen. Another slashed halfway over his left side. There’s another mark near that one that looks suspiciously like a cigarette burn. But bigger. A cigar?

I don’t remember smelling tobacco smoke inside that house.

Tearing my gaze away takes one of the strongest bursts of will I’ve ever known.

“You need to get inside, Callum.” I hardly recognize my own voice. Deeper than usual, barely restraining all my fury. I think it belongs to the beast. “You don’t want to be around me right now.”

His eyes widen like he can see it.

See that I’m no longer me. No longer Stone.

Just the beast.

He slowly lowers his shirt and swallows. “Stone…”

I turn around before he can say anything else. I was planning on making sure he got up to the second floor okay, but navigating the stairs while a little drunk will be a lot less dangerous for him than me sticking around.

However, once I’m back inside my car, I change my mind and stay put. I parked in view of the stairs, so I wait and watch while Callum clumsily climbs his way up.

The second he makes it to the landing, my car is in gear and I’m peeling out of the lot.

I have to get the fuck out of here and fast.

What Ireallyneed is another fucking name.

One week. Our first gameis in one week, and we’ve been playing like trash ever since that party at Nate’s.

And it’s all Stone’s fault.

---