Page 4 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

That I was selfish for wasting my talent.

That I was a fool for turning down the scholarship of a lifetime only to throw my future down the drain.

It’s a bunch of bullshit.

Even after years of staying under the radar, I’m not an idiot. I know they know who I am. I know I can’t fly under the radar, no matter how much time has passed. I know the only reason my mom was able to convince LAU to accept my shitty transcripts was because they’re hoping I’ll play again.

Too bad she only set them up for disappointment.

I would’ve been great, though. Would’ve had it all. Would’ve gone pro if my dad hadn’t convinced me to play for a university first. It’s a shame he isn’t here to make me follow through. I was a legend on the ice. It’s not arrogance. It's fact. But I threw it all away.

“Sorry I didn’t have a chance to introduce you to the rest of the guys before the party started,” Theo continues, adjusting his worn black baseball hat on his head and drinking from his red Solo cup. He’d slipped out of my room as I was screwing together my bed frame and returned with one in hand, finally helping me put the mattress in place. “Lemme give you a quick rundown. Depp, Shorty, and Graves are over there,” he points across the room to a leather couch surrounded by gyrating bodies. “Depp’s the guy dry humping on the couch, Shorty’s the giant sitting on the arm of it in the LAU jersey, and Graves is the angry asshole fighting with his girlfriend, Sally.” He scans the open family room before turning toward the kitchen, then the staircase. “Logan’s around here somewhere too. I dunno where, though.”

“The guy’s been busy,” I note.

“You know how he is. Always up to something.”

“Guess he hasn’t changed much since high school?”

Theo shrugs. “Not really. His room is next to yours, and you guys will also share a bathroom,” he adds as an afterthought.

“He still shit at cleaning?” I ask.

With his cup pressed to his lips, Theo chuckles. “Same old Logan.” Then he swallows more of whatever’s in his cup. His expression pinches, hinting it must be something strong, but he goes in for another drink anyway.

“Any questions so far?”

“So, there’s six of us?” I confirm.

“Seven, including Burrows, but he’s recovering at home from knee surgery. I’m sure he’ll pop up later. His room is in the basement with Depp and Shorty. You, me, Graves, and Logan share the second floor. Fridge is always stocked with food. Everything’s fair game unless there’s a name on it. The dipshits usually break the rule, though, so you might wanna get a mini-fridge for your room if you’re worried about your leftovers. We all split chores around the place. My mom made a chore chart. It’s on the fridge, and I already added you to it. Things like vacuuming, dishes, that kind of thing.”

“Chore chart?” My mouth quirks up. Sounds right up Mama Taylor’s alley.

In high school, we used to always skip school at Theo’s house. When she’d catch us in the basement, she’d refuse to make us chocolate chip cookies until after school officially let out. But as soon as three o’clock rolled around, she’d whip out the apron and scold us for missing school while the scent of homemade cookies wafted from the kitchen. Our consequence was homemade cookies and an empty threat to smack us with her spatula if she found out we were skipping school again.

I smile at the memory.

She’s the biggest pushover with the biggest heart I’ve ever met, and I’m surprised how much I miss her.

Theo rolls his eyes. “You know how she is.”

He’s right. I do.

“How’s she doing, anyway?” I ask.

“You know Mama Taylor,” he mutters, mentioning the nickname Logan and I gave her when we were in middle school. “She told me to tell you hi, though.”

“Tell her I said hi back, and I’ll be sure to keep up with the chore chart.”

He chuckles. “Good. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you’ll be the only one. Also, I feel like I shouldn’t even have to say this, but I don't care if you have sleepovers, I don’t care if you smoke weed in your room, and I don’t care if you use the hot tub in the back. My only rule is to keep your stuff out of the main area, ‘cause I don’t feel like being anyone’s daddy. Except theirs,” he jokes, giving the blondes who’ve been staring at him across the room a smirk as he slaps my shoulder. “Glad to have you here, Colt. We’re gonna have fun.”

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

“Like I said. What’s mine is yours. Any other questions?”

I shake my head, squeezing the back of my neck as I take in the new place. There are people everywhere, jam-packed into every nook and cranny of the first floor. And even though there aren’t any walls separating the kitchen from the family room, the lights are dimmed, and the furniture is pushed aside but kept bunched together in small groups, creating intimate areas around the edge of the room. And when I say intimate, I mean they’re perfect for people who are done dry humping on the dance floor and have decided grinding on the couch is more appealing for the night.

Gotta love college.

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