Page 186 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

“Wait, you don’t remember?” Vera asks.

I pause to think, but it feels like my brain is buffering, my thoughts wrapped in a thick fog.

“I… I don’t…”

It comes back to me in a flash, depicting a single image.

Her face.

“Lacey.” Her name rolling off my tongue gives way to a thousand memories, each more unpleasant than the last.

Fuck.

Fuck, she almost got taken.

Again.

A frantic rhythm pulses through my chest as I recall following Lacey home after it started raining. I just couldn’t go back into the club knowing she was out there, scared to drive in the rain.

She was never supposed to find out. The plan was to follow her home from a safe distance in case she needed me. I left the club a little after she did, so she was already fighting the motherfuckers when I got there.

The next thing I knew, I was throwing myself at them.

But then…

Nothing.

“Is she okay?” My voice breaks on the last word.

Did I save her? Or did they get her anyway?

“She’s okay, don’t worry. She just stepped out to take a call from her stepdad. I’ll go get her.” Kelsea hurries out of the room.

Thank God.

It feels like they just lifted a goddamn sumo wrestler off my chest.

“You got there just in time. You saved her, TJ,” Vera adds.

Something isn’t adding up here. They were looking at me like I was a dying puppy earlier. Did something else happen?

“What? What am I missing? And what am I doing here?” I bombard them with questions.

“You saved her, but you got stabbed in the process. Good news is, you didn’t sustain any severe internal injuries. The doctors want to keep you for observation, but you should be good to go home soon,” Vera explains.

That piece of information is the trigger to the line of dominos buried in my head. Another flash, another image. The memories come rushing back, each forgotten moment becoming clear again.

I glance down at the blanket covering me. Then my hand snakes down my stomach, landing on the spot where the motherfucker plunged his knife. I lift up the blanket, uncovering the side of my stomach and wincing at the stitches sealing the wound.

“You were incredibly reckless, honey. You could’ve gotten yourself killed running at those criminals like that.”

I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant they didn’t hurt my girl. No questions asked.

“Doctor said you were lucky the internal damage wasn’t more substantial. You’re going to need to take it easy while you recover. That means no basketball until you’re a hundred percent.”

Ironically enough, basketball’s the least of my concerns right now. All I care about is seeing her. Holding her. I can’t imagine how she must’ve felt when she saw me go down. I have no doubt it must’ve triggered the fuck out of her abandonment issues and trauma regarding her dad’s death.

“What about the bastards that attacked her? Did they catch them?”

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