Page 13 of The Wrong Play

It started small. A flicker of heat under my skin every time I saw his name flash across my phone. A tightening in my chest when my mother sighed dramatically over breakfast, lamenting about howpoor Callumwas so confused by my behavior. Thathe was only trying to help me, that I wasoverreacting, that I should be grateful for everything he had done for me.

I kept my mouth shut and pushed my meal around my plate, my stomach churning with barely restrained rage.

Grateful.

They wanted me to be grateful?

Grateful that he had stripped me down, taken every part of me and twisted it into something he could control. Grateful that he had stolen pieces of me I could never get back. That I was nothing more than a possession he thought he owned.

I pressed my fork down against the plate until my knuckles turned white.

I was done.

I spent the next few days locked in my room, ignoring the knocks at my door, ignoring my mother’s passive-aggressive sighs, ignoring the creeping sense of dread every time my phone buzzed.

And the moment the acceptance letter arrived, I didn’t even hesitate.

I stared at the email, my breath shallow, my hands shaking so hard I nearly dropped my phone.

Congratulations,Ms.St.James.We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted?—

I didn’t read the rest. I didn’t need to.

I had an out.

A real, tangible way to escape.

I scrambled out of bed, barely feeling my body move as I yanked my suitcase from the closet, throwing in clothes at random. My movements were rushed, frantic, like I thought the email would disappear if I didn’t act fast enough. Like Callum would somehow sense what I was doing and appear in my doorway, that same practiced smile on his face, ready toconvince me that I was his and nothing I did would ever change that.

I shuddered.

No.

No more.

I zipped up the suitcase, grabbed my car keys, and slipped out of my room, heart pounding as I moved through the darkened hall. The house was still, silent, the kind of silence that used to make me feelsafe.

Now, it only made my skin crawl.

I stepped outside, inhaling the crisp night air, the weight on my chest loosening ever so slightly.

I tossed my bag into the passenger seat, gripping the steering wheel so tight my fingers ached. I stared at the house, at the looming windows, the perfectly trimmed hedges, the home where I had lived my entire life.

I should have felt something. Sadness. Nostalgia. Regret.

But all I felt was the overwhelming need to run.

So I did.

I turned the key, felt the rumble of the engine beneath me, and drove.

I didn’t look back.

CHAPTER 1

RILEY

Ihad imagined college a thousand different ways.

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