Page 89 of Golden Rule

He pauses to take a hit of something, sucking in a deep breath.

“It’s permanent.”

I hope.

Keeping that last part to myself, I shake the thought from my head. “But hey, I’m kind of in need of something.”

When he chuckles into the phone, I know he’s read between the lines. “Say no more. How many ounces? I’m loaded over here.”

He supplied my brothers and I during every off season, but… weed isn’t what I’m looking for this time.

“Unless you’re into stronger shit these days?”

“No, I… I just need something to take the edge off. Something to get me through.”

Something to take the pain away, so I can get back to being me.

If my brothers have noticed so easily, it’s just a matter of time before Coach notices, too, and all of this,everything, will have been for nothing.

“Say no more,” he repeats, and my heart’s racing. “Stop by. I’ll hook you up. You should hang out for a while, so we can catch up.”

I nod, and when I squeeze the back of my neck, a thin layer of sweat dampens it.

“For sure. Be there in twenty.”

“Perfect. Sending the address now.”

“Thanks.”

The call ends, but my eyes don’t leave my phone.

What the fuck am I actually doing?

The house is completely dark when I step inside. I didn’t mean to stay out so long, but that can be chocked up to paranoia. With Pandora’s followers itching for content, itching to be the first to run to her with a scoop, I had to make my visit with Tripp look completely innocent, like nothing more than old friends catching up.

I close and latch the door behind me, hearing nothing but my own footsteps echoing through the hallway off the garage. Once my eyes adjust, I notice a pale glow coming from the living room, and I can guess that’s where I’ll find Blue. My heart races, having to face her, knowing where I’ve been all afternoon.

Knowing how it might break her heart ifsheknew.

Don’t think like that. You’re doing this for her, for your career. And it ends as soon as you’re healed and don’t need it anymore.

My heart’s in my throat when I approach the archways of the living room, passing between two pillars as I stare at my wife. She’s dead asleep. So deep she hasn’t even stirred since I walked in. She’s curled up beneath a blanket, letting cheap reality TV watch her while she rests.

My fingertips graze the side of her face, pushing long, blonde strands aside. Before she even opens her eyes, she grins, knowing my touch.

“Hey, you,” she rasps, and I smile watching her stretch like a newborn baby.

“Hey, feeling okay?”

She nods, and I recall how the first day of the hormone shots always tires her out. Although, it only gets slightly better after this.

“I planned to make dinner, but I laid down to rest, and I guess I overslept.”

I drop down onto the other end of the couch, pulling her feet into my lap. That grin on her face grows when I press my thumbs into the center of her soles, massaging them.

“Don’t apologize. How was your day?”

She shrugs, and her eyes drift closed again. “It was mostly good. I spent a few hours at the center, then April texted.”

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