Page 105 of Blindside Me
“I think so,” Maddie says carefully. “Coach let them all go after the meeting.”
“Including Drew? He’s not waiting for the fallout?”
Another look.
“Blake said they won’t know his fate until the NCAA decides.” Her mouth thins. “Guess that’s why Coach Howell let them leave.”
“So he’s been out of his meeting for what, thirty minutes?” I do the math. “And he’s already headed to Barton’s?”
They nod, clearly uncomfortable.
“Great,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “That’s just … great.”
So Drew had time to make plans with his teammates, but not to text me. Not even a simple “I’m okay.” Just silence.
The familiar weight of disappointment settles in my chest. I should be familiar with people leaving, but the sting never fades. It just rewrites itself in new fonts.
“They always leave,” I whisper to myself.
“You’re still welcome to come with us. If you want.” Amanda’s voice is gentle, which makes me want to scream. I don’t need gentle. I don’t need pity.
What I need to do is get to the bottom of why he ditched me.
“To Barton’s?” I force a laugh that sounds hollow even to my own ears. “Sure, why not? I could use a drink.” Tap into that numbness I know all too well.
Callie gives me a look that says she sees right through me, but I ignore it. I’m not going to Barton’s to chase after Drew. I’m going because I refuse to sit alone in my dorm, waiting for a text that might never come.
“Cool,” Maddie says, clearly relieved that the awkward moment has passed. “My car’s just over there.”
I straighten my shoulders and run a hand through my hair, summoning every ounce of confidence I can fake. “Let’s go.”
As I cross the parking lot, a resolve hardens inside me. I’m not going down without a fight. Drew Klaas might think he can punch a guy for talking about me, then ghost me like I don’t matter. He might be used to controlling everything—his training, his diet, his emotions—but he doesn’t get to control this.
If he wants to end whatever this is between us, he’ll have to say it to my face. I’ve spent my whole life watching people walk away.
I refuse to let one more.
My fingers curl by my side. Drew isn’t my mother or my uncle. He doesn’t get to disappear without a word. If he wants to end this, he can look me in the eye and say it himself. I’m done being the girl everyone walks away from.
This time, I’m walking straight into the fire.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Drew
The door to Barton’s swings open, and I step into the chaos like it might swallow me whole. Everyone’s celebrating. We won. I should be celebrating too.
Instead, I feel like I just buried something I’ll never dig back up.
The televisions are set to basketball games, and for once, I’m glad it’s not hockey. The wall of sound coming from the crowd should feel like victory, but it doesn’t. My split lip throbs with every heartbeat, and my raw knuckles scream when I shove them into my pockets.
Three hours since I tried to cave Roman Beaulier’s face in, and I still can’t wash away the red mist from behind my eyes.
“Klaas! My man!” Easton slaps my back, his grin stretched wide. “That right hook was fucking poetry. Beaulier’s gonna be drinking through a straw for a week.”
I grunt something that passes for acknowledgement. The crowd parts for us, for me, like we’re royalty. Or maybe they’re just afraid. Hard to blame them. I’m not sure I trust myself.
Blake slides up to my left, two beers in hand. “Here. Looks like you need this.”
