Page 84 of Through the Water

“No, man. I’m good. Thank you.” My words lacked conviction, but Fynn didn’t push. He just handed me my crutches and a business card with his cell phone number in case I changed my mind.

My eyes drifted over the staff photos lining the walls on the long walk back to my room, but I couldn’t have told you a single name.

Stress.

I’d done it again, taken what I wanted, damn the consequences. But this time was much worse. This time, I’d gone too far by pushing myself on Ari like a caveman.

Are you good?

No, I was beginning to think I might have been the most self-centered bastard who ever lived. I’d gotten caught up in the idea of Ari and how she made me feel, never once stopping to consider the impact her injury might have on her ability to have a relationship.

Then again, if I’d just listened to what Bailey was trying to tell me, I would have known. If Ari wasn’t suffering from a brain injury, she never would have considered a man like me.

Just like Tampa and Chicago, I’d fought to exploit her weakness to get what I wanted, because I knew a good thing when I saw one. But Ari deserved more—she deserved that high-dollar, long-term contract with the right person—not damaged goods offered up by a man who’d fucked around with his teammates’ wives.

I continued my internal rant on into my room, just shy of the bed when my throat contracted painfully. That first sob was like the sounding of a gong—a deep, reverberating ache that rattled my bones and tore my chest open.

Reed men didn’t show emotion—crying was a sign of weakness that got you nowhere. If Joe were here, he’d no doubt have clicked his tongue against his teeth before shaking his head in disapproval.

Maybe he’d never wanted a son, but a dog—something that could have been trained to obey his every command.

For whatever reason, that thought, along with the sight of my shell-shocked expression reflected in the mirror above the sink, made my tears come faster.

I sucked in a ragged breath and mashed my lips together, but it was no use. My grief was not content to go quietly. No, it demanded to be heard as it stripped the flesh off the bone, leaving me to bleed out.

On what should have been the best day of my life, I’d been reduced to a loud, blubbering mess, forced to let go of burdens I’d carried for far too long. With a sharp exhale, I released the anger I’d held toward my father, wishing I could have lived up to his expectations and wondering if it would have made a damn bit of difference.

But Ari—Ari was a wound that would never heal.

I felt the loss of her in each strangled sob, and the gaping hole in my chest grew wider. Eventually, what was left of my heart fell through to the floor.

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