Page 37 of Did They Break You

I mentioned Van and Dr. Ravi asked if I was smoking pot, so I changed that subject fast.

Which, I don’t. Not very often anyway.

But maybe I should do it a little more. Might help me sleep.

Then I hear the detectives in my head, questioning my habits.

It’s like in order to be believed, I had to be blameless.

I reach down and swipe up my bag, slinging it over one shoulder as I scoot to the edge of my chair. “I’ll see you next week,” I say without waiting to be dismissed, standing and circling my fingers around the phone in my hoodie pocket.

Then I’m on my hands and knees again.

My stomach churns.

Get back in the basement.

I force a smile at Dr. Ravi, who’s watching me curiously.

“All right, Remi,” she says, brushing back a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear that fell from her bun. “If you need me between now and then,” she nods to the door, “you know where to find me.”

“Yep,” I tell her. “Have a good rest of the week.” Then I head to the door, snatch it open and step out into the narrow hallway on the second floor of the student service’s building, letting the door fall closed behind me.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, leaning against the wall a second.

Telling myself the lie I need to believe.He’s not really here.

I haven’t actually seen him going into classes. Chase confirmed hewashere with his little pep talk in the woods, but maybe it’s a sick prank. Maybe he dropped out of school.

I couldn’t find him on social media, and I didn’t work up the nerve to check the football roster, or look at stats for the game last weekend.

I open my eyes and force one foot in front of the other, walking down the empty hallway. I hear a voice as I get to the main room on the second floor reserved for student transfers.

It’s the receptionist speaking in a loud, overeager tone like she’s kissing someone’s ass. I roll my eyes, adjusting my bag over my shoulder and walking through the open area, skirting around the little couch and table set for people waiting.

But when I throw a glance over at the counter, my heart leaps to my throat.

I stop as Cortland’s gray eyes connect with my own.

He has one hand on the counter, sliding over some papers the receptionist is pushing toward him, and his other is gripping his black backpack, the same as I am.

A slow smile curves his lips, that piercing tugging upward.

My stomach flips.

He takes the papers in his hand and turns fully to face me.

I start walking again, my pulse erratic as I head for the stairwell, but he doesn't come after me.

I feel a moment’s relief, but my gaze drops to what he’s wearing.

A black hoodie.

With an orange tiger print.

And the words “Ely University Football” printed across it.

A reminder that I can only lie to myself for so long.

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