Page 119 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

I knew I recognized his truck.

Part of me wants to run in the opposite direction, another wave of embarrassment flooding my system for how things turned out, but the other part is too curious to leave. Too bitter to leave.

Why the hell is Russ here?

With my hand propped on my hip, I wait for him to walk closer and keep my head held high despite the voice inside begging me to tuck my tail between my legs and get the hell out of here.

But I refuse to give in. To let him and Coach and everyone else on the hockey team win.

I did nothing wrong, I remind myself.

When he is close enough to hear me, I call out, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Baby Thorne,” he greets me. He looks tired. Remorseful. Almost uncomfortable, which is saying something. The guy doesn’t give a shit about what other people say or think. He’s a military man through and through. He’s also a man of few words, and right now, he isn’t saying shit. Before, it was something I genuinely liked about the guy, but in this moment, I kind of want to smack him for it.

“Can I help you?” I prod, my tone syrupy sweet but laced with a sharpness I can’t hold in despite my best effort. The truth is, he kind of betrayed me. Coach betrayed me. I was tossed aside so easily. So quickly. It hurt like a bitch.

He looks up at me, unphased by my prickliness. “We want you back.”

“We?” I ask.

He nods. “Sanderson wanted me to reach out.”

I almost choke on my snort but swallow it back as I rock on my heels and fold my arms. “He did, did he?”

“Wanted me to see if you’re still interested in the internship.”

My teeth dig into my tongue to keep from lashing out from the balls on this guy. I want to remind him I was fired. It’s not like I left because I was bored or uninterested in the opportunity.

Duh.

But still. He wants me back? Coach wants me back?

“Did Theo put you up to this?” I demand.

“Taylor wasn’t involved in this decision. You’re talented, Blake. Genuinely. And I don’t blow smoke up anyone’s ass unless they deserve it.”

I dig my fingernails into the inside of my crossed arms, confirming I’m very much awake, but keep my expression indifferent. Part of me wants to say yes. To beg him to let me come back and finish out the season.

If he’d shown up thirty minutes earlier, I would have.

But that was before my conversation with Bridger. Before I met a little boy who’d never had a Take 5. The boy with the broken family and a penchant for soccer. Before I felt needed. Before I felt like I could truly make a difference. An impact reaching a hell of a lot further than athlete recovery and injury prevention. Don’t get me wrong. Those things are still important, but in all my studying, all my experience from shadowing Russ, I never felt needed in the way I did with Bridger. Never felt important in the way I did with Bridger. The realization is staggering.

Trudy’s van pulls out of the parking lot, and I watch the brake lights disappear down the street.

“Blake?” Russ prods.

Holy shit, am I really doing this? Am I really giving up my lifelong dream despite the second opportunity to have it? Am I letting it go willingly instead of having it ripped from my fingertips?

Am I crazy? Am I going to regret this?

An image of Bridger rises to the surface, followed by a dozen more faces belonging to the other kids I met today. They were all so sweet. So desperate for affection. My heart cracks, and I rub at the ache, indecision threatening to tear me in two.

“You’re going to say no, aren’t you?” Russ murmurs. I can feel his stare on the side of my face.

I blink and tear my attention from the empty parking lot. “I appreciate the offer, Russ. I really do. But I think I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

The bastard doesn’t even look surprised.

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