Page 108 of Iced Out

My stomach rolls as I read over the label on the bottle once, twice, fifty fucking times. And each time I read the word, the gut-wrenching fear shifts more and more into anger. Swirling and rolling until finally, I can’t keep quiet anymore.

“What the fuck are these?”

Oakley spins around, brows furrowed in confusion when he sees me holding the bottle of pills. And then, for the briefest moment, his face falls. He rights it quickly, almost fast enough for me to not notice the falter in his expression at all. Hell, if I didn’t know him as well as I do now, I probably would’ve missed it.

But I caught it.

I caughthim.

“What the fuckare these?”I ask again, more forcefully this time. My grip around the bottle causes the plastic cap to dig into my skin painfully, the same way this discovery is embedding a knife in my heart.

Or in this case, my back.

He crosses the room to where I’m standing and grabs the bottle from my grasp. Swallowing, he reads the label before meeting my gaze. “They’re from when I broke my collarbone. Remember? In the game against Waylon last season?”

Ignoring his question, I ask one of my own. “Why do you still have them?”

“I guess I just never threw them away.”

I guess I just never threw them away.

How fucking convenient.

“Or maybe you’re still using them.” I murmur, the pieces of the puzzle coming together in my head. “And the day of the drug test, you swapped the samples. Yours for mine, so you’d pass and I wouldn’t.”

“What are youtalking about?” he asks, his head tilting to the side. “You didn’t even test positive for narcotics. It was steroids.”

“No,” I growl, my teeth grinding as I grab the bottle from him again. “I just let you think it was because I didn’t see the point in arguing with you about something like which drug they popped me for.” I hold the bottle up between us, showing him the label. “This drug. Which I didn’t fucking use, by the way. I was always clean, always fucking will be.”

Oakley’s mouth drops open slightly as his brows furrow, and I can see the wheels spinning in his head. “So wait…you tested positive for narcotics instead?”

“Stop acting like you didn’t know!” I shout and throw the bottle across the room, where it hits the wall before clattering to the floor. “I saw the look on your face when I found those. You fucking knew. You had to have known.”

He stares at me like he’s seen a ghost, his head shaking back and forth at a snail’s pace. I don’t know if it’s part of his denial, or maybe he’s trying to process what’s happening, but either way, it does nothing for me. It gives me no answers.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t know,” I demand slowly. “If you’re gonna lie, then you can lie to my fucking face.”

“Quinn, please—”

“Just answer the question,” I snarl, cutting off whatever plea he was about to make. “Did you know? That’s the only information I want.”

Oakley’s eyes sink closed, and there’s a faint crack in my chest. Because the look on his face…it’s answer enough. To the point where I could just leave and save myself the trouble.

But even if the words aren’t necessary to know, I still need to hear them.

From his lying fucking mouth, I need the truth.

“I knew something was up. Braxton was talking all weird, and I asked him straight up if he did something, but all he said wasI was looking out for youor some shit. I didn’t…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck as he shakes his head. “I had no idea heactuallydid it.”

“But you had suspicions.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Butnothing!”I shout. “What the actual fuck were you thinking, Oakley? How could you not say something if you thought he—”

“Because he’s one of my best friends, and I didn’t know anything for sure!”

And then it all falls into place. It makes sense. And more than anything, I’m pissed at myself for not seeing it sooner.

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