Page 155 of Saving the Halfback

Chase stepped in. “Take a deep breath,” he whispered. “Count to ten.”

“I need to smoke.”

“You can’t. We have testing soon. If we win this weekend, we’ll be in the playoffs. If you test positive, we will all be screwed. Every game we won will be considered a loss.” Chase coached him as if he were talking him down off a ledge.

Lachlan growled and leaned forward, placing his forehead on the locker. The second bell rang—Chase and I were officially late—but that didn’t concern me right now.

I pushed aside my worry and ducked down under Lachlan, so I was now looking up at him. His eyes flashed open, his pupils pinpoint as he looked down at me. “You were mad at Chase because of what he said?”

“No.” His voice was hushed, but slowly, the tightness around his face eased. “Because he upset you.”

I smiled. “You can’t get mad every time Chase makes me mad. You’ll always be losing it.”

Chase chuckled. “Thanks.”

I shrugged. “It’s how we communicate. Don’t take it out on bystanders, either.”

“Bails, could you…get off your knees? The way you’re standing with Lachy boy over you like that, it doesn’t look good.”

I stood up, but I didn’t move to the side. Lachlan was forced to straighten, his body nearly pressed against mine. “I want you to hug me,” I told him.

There. His pupils relaxed, dilating slowly. With a smirk, Lachlan reached out and wrapped his arms around me. He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. “I didn’t mean to lose it,” he mumbled into my neck. “I’m better when I’m high.”

It was then that I realized Lachlan was battling demons far darker than I had known. No one was safe…except our family. He never went after Chase or me. I looked in the direction of where that guy had run off to, the hallways now empty. Anyone attacking us better watch out—I probably should be disturbed by that. Maybe something inside of me was twisted as well, because wrapped up in Lachlan’s arms, all I felt was cherished.

57

Nolan

Islept off and on throughout the morning. My dad had brought me everything from food and drinks, to heating pads and pain medication. The tightness in my thigh was starting to release, though it was definitely injured. Not that I was worried about that.

What had Bailey done to my father?

The food and drinks he brought me could still be seen as healthy. Aside from… I stared at the pack of mint Oreos on the nightstand. Mint was Nick’s favorite, but at least he had tried. I ate half the damn package and got no lecture. I talked about going for a walk or jog to stretch out the muscle, and he instantly declined, telling me to rest it for today. He never would’ve said that before.

Had he let go of Nick? Was I supposed to let go of Nick? Everything inside of me was conflicted. I didn’t want to, couldn’t emotionally, let go of my brother. But the release of obligation was a relief.

No. I couldn’t do this. I had to go to my father and tell him to stop this epiphany he thought he’d had and go back to normal.

I stood up from my bed, almost falling into the wall as my thigh seized. “Ugh. Damn it.” I grabbed the muscle and triedto massage it, hoping it would relax. I had double games this weekend; this couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t let the team down.

After a few moments, the muscle did release, and I was able to limp down the hall. I was halfway down the stairs when I heard my father talking on the phone.

“I thought he was dead,” he said. “I know, Angie.”

He was talking to my mom. My breath hitched, and I found myself lowering to the step, listening in on their conversation.

“He looked just like Nick when they carried him in… No, he’s okay now. Some soft tissue damage… You don’t have to remind me, I know. I went too far. I went too far with Nolan, and I went too far with you.”

Before Nick’s death. That was the only time my parents had talked to each other without yelling or fighting. I leaned my head against the railing and closed my eyes, listening to them talk. I could only hear Dad’s side of the conversation, but I imagined my mother’s voice, knowing what she would say and how she would respond. It wasn’t long until Dad started asking about her, how she had been holding up, what she was up to. My dad still loved her—I could hear it in the rise and fall of his voice. In his laughter, which had been all but absent until today.

“Bailey,” Dad said, the name making my eyes flash open. “She’s on the team, the halfback. She’s a decent player.” He paused, then laughed at something my mom said. I wanted to hear. I wanted to know what my mother had to say about Bailey. “Listen, I’m a big guy, and that little girl had me up against the wall, nearly pissing my pants. I thought she was going to take a swing at me. Well, she did, just not in a physical sense…”

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out.

Lachlan:video message

I clicked on the video and watched as Hersey did a homecoming proposal to Bailey in the cafeteria. He had flowersand chocolate, and a couple of players were holding up signs, urging her to say yes. Everyone clapped, but Bailey hid her red face. She looked like she was fighting with herself, not sure whether she could say no in front of the audience. The video cut out before she gave her answer.

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