Page 64 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

The idea sounds amazing. But I’m not stupid. And with everything going on? I’d have to be an idiot to agree to help.

Resignation mingles with regret as I let out a soft sigh. “I can’t.”

“You sure? The kids are all ten and under, and for most of them, this would be their first real experience with sports. Fender wants to start the program relatively small and work out all the kinks, then expand. He was thinking about maybe taking twenty to thirty kids and splitting them into three groups and rotating them between art, music, and athletics.”

“It sounds amazing, Mia, but the internship is crazy busy, and we’re not even halfway through the season, not to mention the semester. My schedule’s insane. I know I like to bite off more than I can chew but…” I shake my head. “I don’t want to let Fen down. I’m sorry.”

“You sure?”

I sigh. “Yeah. I don’t have enough time in the day. I really am sorry, though.”

“It’s okay,” she concedes. “Figured I’d ask. Door’s always open,” she adds. “Like seriously. You’d be a perfect fit. Come on. Let’s go to bed. I need sleep, and so do you.”

Even though I know sleep won’t be happening for me tonight, I let Mia off the hook. I stand up, head toward the kitchen, put my mug in the sink, and go to my room. All the while, I ignore the memory of tonight while knowing it’ll tease me for the rest of my life.

Then again, it’s Theodore Taylor.

The guy’s been teasing me since grade school.

What else is new?

20

THEO

The locker room is louder than usual. Or maybe it’s my imagination. I guess I could always blame my splitting headache. My skull has been pounding ever since Blake walked out the door after we had sex. I’ve tried texting, but she hasn’t responded. I even called once, but it went straight to voicemail. Not that I would’ve known what to say if she’d picked up, but I still feel off. Guilty. Like I took something that didn’t belong to me. But would I take it back––would I not touch her again––if given the chance?

Fuck, no.

She’s been running through my thoughts on a constant loop––has been for years––but after sleeping with her, it’s been even worse. Like she’s haunting me. Taunting me. Wracking at my guilt. Tainting even the smallest things. Like breakfast––I started craving Cinnamon Toast Crunch this morning. Or the gym––I decided to run on the treadmill instead of hitting up the weight machine because the girl’s a sucker for jogging. Even SeaBird’s tainted. I don’t wanna go in because I know she won’t be there.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I want to know how she’s doing. I want to talk to her. Ask about her day. If she hates me. If she thinks about me the same way I think about her.

But I can’t do anything because she left. She fucking flew out of the house like a bat out of hell after we had sex, and if that isn’t a sucker punch to the nuts, I don’t know what is.

Today’s the first day I’ll see her, and I’ve been anxious to find out if she’ll actually show up to shadow Russ at the game or if she’ll call in sick or something. If she weren’t such a determined little shit, I wouldn’t put it past her. But there’s a reason she earned her internship. When she wants something, she gets it. Regardless of the obstacles, such as running into me, she fights for the things she wants. And this internship? She wants it more than anything. Of that, I have no doubt.

I scan the unread messages from me to her again.

Me: Hey. Did you get home okay?

Me: Hey. You ran off pretty quick the other night. You doing okay?

Me: Hey. Cinnamon bears are on sale at the store. Want me to grab you a bag?

Nothing.

No response.

No, I’m good. Thanks, though.

Nadda.

It’s driving me insane.

I shouldn’t be thinking about Blake. Not right now. Not in the locker room before a big game. I should be getting ready. I should be focusing on the plays we’ve been working on or the offers buzzing around the locker room for all the seniors, Colt and me included. But instead, I’m distracted. So fucking distracted.

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