Page 72 of Role Model

He couldn’t stop thinking. About Harris. About the plane. About the game they were supposed to somehow play tomorrow night. About the impending flight home. About Dallas Kent. About Ryan Price. About how many years Troy had spent being mean, so full of anger and fear that he’d been incapable of making a good decision.

He also thought about the way Harris had cried out Troy’s name when he’d climaxed, so loudly that Troy had frantically tried to silence him. And about how wonderful it had felt to wake up with Harris in his arms. He shouldn’t have left him the way he had that morning. He should have talked to him. Harris probably never wanted to talk to him again, after that, and Troy couldn’t blame him.

He sat down hard on the sand, and called his mom.

“Troy? Oh my god, I just heard about—”

“I’m okay. I’m fine. It was scary, but we’re all okay.”

“Are you okay? You sound a little rough.”

“I just finished a run.”

“Oh.”

Troy pulled his knees up and fixed his gaze on the ocean. “Sorry. Where are you? Did I wake you up?”

“I’m in New Zealand. Auckland. Just got here yesterday. It’s about six in the morning here, so don’t worry about it.”

New Zealand. Jesus. It hit Troy suddenly just how far away his mom was, and how desperately he wanted her with him.

“I miss you,” he said, sounding as wrecked as he felt.

“Oh, honey. You don’t have to act brave for me. You must be traumatized.”

“It’s not that.” Troy exhaled. “I don’t know, it’s probably partly that. But it’s everything. I keep fucking up.” He grimaced. “Sorry. Messing up.”

She laughed gently. “I’ve heard that word before. Talk to me.”

Troy wasn’t sure he could. Not without telling her everything. And if he was going to come out to his mom, he didn’t want it to be like this.

Except, fuck. He’d almost died yesterday. He could have died without her ever knowing, and for some reason he hated that thought.

He took a breath.

And went in a completely different direction.

“I feel useless. Like, with Dallas. Nothing bad has happened to him. I can’t stop thinking about his victims and no one else seems to give a shit. He was just named Player of the Week! Like... I don’t know if there’s anything I can do, but maybe there is.”

Mom was silent a moment, then said, “That’s a lot to carry.”

“Like, I wasn’t a witness to anything, but only because I wasn’t paying close enough attention. I should have been. I could have stopped him. I could have—”

“First of all, I understand what you are saying and why you feel that way. But, Troy, you know it’s not your fault, right? Dallas was the one who assaulted those women. Dallas is the bad guy.”

“He was my best friend.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“I just...want to be better. I want to be, I don’t know, proud of myself. I want to be worth looking up to.”

“Well, you’re not bad at hockey.”

Troy huffed. “I know. But that’s not enough.”

“As far as Dallas goes, there’s not much you can do. None of his victims are pressing charges, and, like you said, you’re not a witness. But you can help in other ways.”

“Like what?” God, Troy would do anything. “What ways?”

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