Page 113 of The Wrong Play

Icouldn’t.

But when I tried again, forcing my muscles to work, my legs buckled. I barely felt myself sink to the floor, gasping, my forehead dropping against the cabinet.

A strangled sob tore from my throat, and I covered my face with my hands, trying to keep it in, trying to breathe, trying to tell myself that this was just another bad day.

That it would pass. That ithadto pass.

But sitting there on the cold bathroom tile, my body too weak to even hold itself up, it didn’t feel like it would. It felt like this was going to be the rest of my life.

And Jace—he couldn’t know. He couldn’t see me like this. I didn’t want him looking at me the way Callum used to,with thinly veiled disappointment, with impatience masked as concern.You’re too fragile,Riley.Too much work.Too much trouble.

Jace had fought for me, chased me down like I was something worth keeping. If he knew…if he saw me like this, broken and pathetic, would he still want me? Would he still look at me like I was his?

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing down the nausea, the frustration, the fear. No. I wasn’t letting him see this part of me. I wouldn’t give him a reason to walk away.

I didn’t know if I could handle that.

I had no idea how long I sat there, curled up against the cabinet, shaking, crying—hating every second of it.

Eventually, my body forced itself into autopilot. I crawled back to bed, my limbs screaming in protest. The second I hit the mattress, I pulled the blankets over my head and squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring the wetness staining my cheeks.

I’d set an alarm. I’d try again in an hour.

But deep down, I already knew.

I wasn’t getting up today.

CHAPTER 20

RILEY

The weight of exhaustion pressed down on me. I wasn’t just physically tired. I wasn’t just tired from the ache of sleepless nights or the constant push and pull inside my own head—I was tired in my soul.

I stared at the ceiling, each second I lay there dragged, stretching out into eternity.

Would it always be like this?

Would I always feel like I was carrying something too heavy to put down?

I exhaled shakily, my fingers curling into the sheets. It hurt to exist. It hurt to wake up every day, to pretend like I wasn’t suffocating. Jace made it easier, but even he couldn’t fix what was broken inside me. And one day, he’d see that. He’d realize I was nothing more than a burden, a weight dragging him under.

What was the point in fighting if the war had already been lost?

The thought crept in slowly, insidiously. Maybe it would be easier if I just stopped. If I let it all go. If I let the darkness take me.

No more struggling. No more fighting. No more pretending to be okay when I wasn’t.

I rolled onto my side, staring at the sliver of sunlight filtering through the curtains. My heart thumped dully in my chest, a slow, steady beat that felt too loud in the quiet.

I just wanted it to stop.

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, and I didn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point? What was the point of any of it?

The exhaustion was crushing now, pressing against my ribs, wrapping around my throat. And for the first time since I’d left home…since I’d left Callum, I wasn’t sure I had the strength to fight it anymore.

I squeezed my eyes shut, whispering a plea to no one.

I just wanted to rest.

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