Page 103 of The Mistake

She fervently shakes her head. “No. I swear. I was only there for about an hour, and they were too busy snorting coke and drinking vodka straight from the bottle. It wasn’t until right before I called you that they started pawing at me and trying to convince me to strip for them. And when I told them I wanted to leave, they locked the door and wouldn’t let me out.”

Disapproval hardens my jaw. “God, Ramona. What were you evendoingwith these guys? Why would you agree to hang out with them on your own?”

Another sob flies out of her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to be on my own. Jess and I ran into them after the game and they invited us to the motel, but Jess had to meet up with her dealer first, so she said she’d meet me there. But five minutes after I got here, she texted to say she wasn’t coming.”

My upper arm feels wet, and I realize Ramona’s tearshave soaked through my sleeve.

“Shebailedon me and left me alone with them. What kind of friend does that?”

A selfish one.

I bite my tongue and rub her shoulder, and a part of me can’t help but feel responsible for what happened to her tonight. I know it’s stupid to think that, but I also know I could’ve prevented this if I’d been more of a presence in her life. Ramona and I had a…balance, I guess. She encouraged me to be impulsive and stop second-guessing myself, and I encouraged her tonotbe impulsive andstartsecond-guessing herself.

I force myself to banish the guilt. No. I refuse to take responsibility for this near-catastrophe. Ramona is an adult.Shemade the decision to party with those guys, and she’s fucking lucky that I still feel some shred of loyalty toward her and came to her rescue.

That last thought gives me pause, as it suddenly occurs to me that what I did tonight is the same thing I’ve been criticizing Logan for doing—helping someone who might not deserve it. Allowing years of history and lingering loyalty to drive me to do something I didn’t necessarily want to do, but felt I had to.

I jerk when the driver’s door flings open, but it’s Logan, sliding behind the wheel with a stony look. When he addresses Ramona, however, his tone is infinitely gentle. “Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” she says weakly. “I’m fine.” She lifts her head, and the look she gives us is swimming with shame. “Thank you for coming to get me. I’m sorry if I ruined your evening.”

“You’re welcome,” Logan answers. “And don’t you fucking worry about our evening, Ramona. The only thing that matters right now is that we got you out of there before shit got out of hand.”

His gruff words circle my heart and fill it with warmth. God, I love this guy. I know his opinion of Ramona isn’t exactly positive, but he still came to her aid tonight in spite of that, and I love him even more for it.

I’m tempted to lean in and whisper it in his ear. Just tell him how much I love him, but courage eludes me.

Truth is, I’m waiting for him to say it first. I don’t know, maybe it’s leftover insecurities from what happened in April.Loganrejectedme, and I’m so afraid of it happening again. I’m afraid of being vulnerable, giving him my heart, only to have him throw it back in my face.

So I stay quiet. So do Ramona and Logan, and the drive back to campus is a silent one.

32

LOGAN

Three days before our first game, the team finally clicks. It’s like someone flicked a switch fromoh-God-we-sucktowe-might-have-a-chance. I still don’t think we’re one hundred percent there yet, but we’ve shown improvement during our practices this week, and Coach isn’t yelling at us as often, so…progress.

Since midterms are in full swing, Grace and I haven’t seen each other in a few days, but we’re taking a break from studying to have dinner with her dad tonight. And because I had practice, she cabbed it to Hastings with Ramona, who’s visiting her own parents. I’m still not sure how I feel about them rekindling their friendship, but Grace keeps insisting that she won’t let Ramona get too close again, and I guess I have to accept that. Besides, after Friday night’s sexual-assault-waiting-to-happen, I’m feeling a lot more sympathy toward Ramona. Not to mention a lot more rage toward St. Anthony’s.

Did I mention we’re facing them in the season opener? Coach isn’t gonna like it, but I’m fairly certain I’ll be spending a lot of time in the sin bin that night.

I check my phone as I leave the arena. There’s a message from Grace, saying she got to her dad’s okay.

And a message from Jeff, asking me to call him ASAP.

Shit.

Jeff doesn’t usually throw around ASAPs unless it’s serious, so I don’t waste time calling him back. It takes five ringsbefore he answers, and when he does, he sounds agitated.

“Where the hell have you been the last hour?” he demands.

“Practice. Coach doesn’t let us bring our phones on the ice. What’s up?”

“I need you to go home and check on Dad.”

“Why?” I say uneasily.

“Because I’m at the hospital with Kylie, and I can’t fucking do it myself.”

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