Page 125 of Bitter When He Begs

I rub a hand over my face and reach blindly for my phone again. I don’t even think—I just hit the contact I know will pick up.

Sage.

But my thumb stops just short of calling.

Because I don’t want the first thing he hears from me after the game to be me cracking and falling apart. I promised I’d text him. I promised I’d keep it together. And yeah, I want to hear his voice more than I want anything right now. I want to hear him say I did good. I want to hear that he’s proud of me even if we lost. I want his voice to drown out my father’s.

But I also don’t want him to know how close I am to breaking.

So, I don’t call. Instead, I do something else. Something stupid. Something I haven’t done in a long time. I scroll past Sage’s name, past the teammates I actually give a shit about, past the people who would talk me out of this—

And I call a number I should have deleted long ago.

A number I haven’t dialed in months.

A number I swore I wouldn’t ever fucking call again.

It rings once.

Twice.

“Didn’t think I’d hear from you again, Devereaux,” a voice drawls on the other end, smooth, familiar, fucking dangerous.

I exhale slowly, fingers tightening around my phone. “Yeah,” I mutter, my voice rough. “Didn’t think so either.”

A beat of silence.

“Heard you’re back in town,” he says. “You need a refill?”

I close my eyes, swallow hard and lie through my fucking teeth. “No,” I say, even though my body is screaming at me to say yes.

There’s a pause before the guy laughs, low and knowing. “Sure you don’t.”

Luca

ThesecondIkillthe call, I already know I’ve fucked up.

But I don’t care.

I can’t care.

Not with my father’s voice still ringing in my ears, the sharp bite of his disappointment still sinking into my skin like a goddamn knife. Not with my chest tight, my hands shaking, and the itch—the fucking itch—crawling under my skin, spreading through my veins like wildfire.

I just need to take the edge off. Just once. Just one.

That’s what I tell myself as I shove my phone into my pocket, grab my hoodie, and head for the door.

But the second I reach for the handle, the door swings open on its own, and I barely have a second to react before Eli and Julian step inside, blocking my path.

“What the fuck?” I snap, trying to move past them, but Julian slaps a hand against my chest, shoving me back into the room.

Eli steps inside along with him, kicking the door shut with his foot and locking it. His eyes are locked onto mine, and the way he’s looking at me makes my skin prickle.

Like he knows. Like he sees me. Like he already knew exactly what I was about to do.

Julian crosses his arms over his chest, cocking his head. “Where you headed, Devereaux?”

I roll my shoulders, clenching my fists at my sides. “Move.”