Page 103 of A Scoring Chance

I grab my phone and answer, noticing that it’s the front desk. “Hey, Stanley. How was your Christmas?”

“Mr. Cooper. It’s Ms. Ramona. I tried to warn her about the reporters, but she just ran right out the door. I-I’m so sorry, Mr. Cooper,” Stanley stammers into the phone.

“What’s wrong with Ramona?” I shout into the phone as I pace the bathroom and inhale deeply through my nose before blowing it out of my mouth.

I need to keep my composure. There’s a strong chance that she’s fine. She’s sitting there at the front desk and someone, not Stanley, is there. They’re just calling to confirm that she’s on the approved list. No, I know that is not possible. I physically watched Stanley add her to my approved visitors’ list. Even if a new guy is at the desk, she knows to give them her name so she can come right up.

“The ambulance took her to OHSU hospital because she was unconscious. She hit her head pretty hard on the ground. I found a phone in her pocket but no identification. I told them you’d meet her at the emergency room as soon as you could. I also called the number listed underMa. The woman on the other end said she’d get here as quickly as she could.”

“Ambulance?” I croak, my throat clogged with emotions as I imagine my beauty lying on the cold concrete, her face looking peaceful, as if she were sleeping. The only sign she isn’t is the pool of blood beneath her temple where she hit her head.

Annamarie said I was going to regret rebuffing her advances, but I didn’t listen to her. She paid a child with the video game system he wanted. It isn’t a far leap to think she paid someone to harm Ramona. To make sure she’s no longer in her way, leaving me heartbroken and alone in the world.

“Yes. Mr. Cooper? Mr. Cooper?” The sound of Stanley’s voice gets softer and softer as the phone clatters to the floor. I grip the bathroom counter tightly in my hands, barely keeping my body from joining the phone on the floor.

It’s happening all over again. Just like Dad, fate has chosen to make me pay for my selfishness, but this time, it cost me so much more. Guttural sounds echo through the bathroom as I search for its origin before glimpsing my reflection in the mirror and realizing the sound is coming from me.

It’s all my fault. Everything is always my fault.

Those words play through my mind for the millionth time, reminding me I deserve all of this. The pain, the soul-crushing sorrow that I’ll never be rid of. Losing my beauty will haunt me for the rest of my life. I should never have dared to hope that I’d be blessed to find my other half, not after what I’ve taken from the people I care about.

I smash my fist into the mirror in front of me, glass raining down around me, but I don’t stop. I lift my other hand and smash it into the mirror before following it with the other. I pound out all my frustrations into that mirror, my hatred for the broken man staring back at me.

My fault. My fault. My fault.

I usually beg for the numbness to take hold, but it never does. A million different emotions feed my anger as I pound my fist into the mirror one last time, smashing right through the back and sinking into the drywall.

My fault. My fault. My fault.

“My fault. My fault. My fault.” I parrot the voice in my head, banging my fists into the wall. Glass scrapes along my skin, and deep red liquid slides down my forearm, leaving droplets all over my bright white counters. This is my penance for depriving the world of Ramona’s smile.

Angry tears stream down my face as my knees buckle, crashing my kneecaps into the hard floor. There’s a soft ringing in my ears as my mind registers the pain. I look down at my arms, pieces of broken glass sticking out all over my skin. The red of my blood runs down my forearms to my elbows before dripping onto the floor. The pool on the floor gets bigger and bigger until my eyes droop shut. A part of me wants to fight to remain conscious, but I don’t have the will to fight anymore.

“Cooper!” Beau’s muffled voice has me jolting up right from my place on the floor. “Cooper, if you don’t answer me.”

“In here?” I groan, every muscle in my body screaming in pain as I stand.Fuck!I pick up my foot. There’s a small cut on the bottom of my foot, a few tiny shards of glass sticking out of it. My head scans the area, seeing different-sized pieces of glass littering the floor around me. “Grab me a pair of shoes while you’re at it.”

“A pair of—what the fuck happened in here, Cooper?” Beau’s eyes widen in horror as he takes in the surrounding mess. I don’t say a word, my head dropping to my chest in defeat. I’m unsure what to say to him. How to explain what he’s seeing.

A pair of black Hunter rain boots land on the floor in front of me. “Do you need help putting them on?”

I shake my head no, slowly getting off the floor and easing my feet into the boots. My shoulder aches badly from where I’ve been lying on it. Shards of glass impale my shoulder, no doubt from me lying on them for lord knows how long.

“How did you know to come?” The glass crunches under my feet as I make my way toward the door. Beau steps to the side,making sure not to touch any of the jagged pieces of glass as I pass by.

“When you didn’t answer Stanley on the phone, he called me. I gave Alise the keys to my Jeep and told her we’d meet her at the hospital.”

He disappears into the bathroom. I can hear him rummaging around in the cabinet before he comes back with a small cup that matches the other knick-knacks on the counter, tweezers, a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, and the towel hanging from the hook beside the sink.

Neither one of us speaks to each other as he pulls pieces of glass from my skin, starting on my shoulder. The only sound in the room is the plinking of the glass as it drops into the cup. I try not to move a muscle as he finishes with my shoulder and moves to my forearm. The skin rips further as he digs some of the deeper pieces free.

“Some of these are going to need stitches. I’ll clean them up the best I can.”

I nod, wincing as he pours alcohol directly onto my bruised and damaged skin.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Cooper? You punched your way through a fucking mirror.”

“I’m sorry.”

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