Page 145 of Bitter When He Begs

“I know,” he says immediately, his hands still holding my face, his voice steady and sure in the way mine isn’t. “I believe you, Luca.”

God, the relief that hits me is so sharp it almost hurts.

“They’re doing a retest,” I say, my voice a little steadier now, even if my chest still feels like it’s trying to collapse. “Coach scheduled it for this afternoon. But if it comes back the same, I’m benched. Suspension is on the table.”

Sage exhales, and it’s the first real sign of emotion I’ve seen in him since walking in—like he’s been holding his breath for me, and now it’s breaking through.

“I can’t go through this again, Sage,” I whisper, and now I’m the one reaching for him, my hands clinging to the hem of his hoodie. “I can’t lose the team.I can’t.”

“You’re not losing anything,” he says, pulling me in again, his arms sliding around my back. “You’re not. You’renot.We’re gonna figure this out, baby.”

I suck in a breath. “I feel like I’m losing my mind,” I admit, my voice muffled by his shoulder. “I sat in the truck for twenty minutes just trying to breathe. I thought I was past this. I thought I had it handled.”

“You do have it handled,” he murmurs, threading his fingers through my hair. “You didn’t use. That means you’re still fighting. That means you’re still winning.”

I let out a broken breath. “But what if the second test comes back the same?”

“It won’t,” he says, and there’s steel in his voice now. “And if it does, we fight. We get your levels drawn again. We go to the damn lab and demand answers. But you are not going down for something you didn’t do.”

I pull back enough to look at him. His face is set in that way it only gets when he’s ready to rip someone’s head off—calm, composed, lethal. He’s already two steps ahead of the problem and planning how to set it on fire.

It floors me a little. Not just the protectiveness, but the certainty. My boy’s already decided that if anyone comes for me, he’ll be the one in their way.

“Someone fucked with this,” he says, quieter now, eyes locked on mine. “That’s the only explanation. You’re clean. I know you are.”

“I haven’t even thought about using,” I say again, my voice small but clear. “Not seriously. Not since that night.”

He nods, rubbing a hand down my back in long, even strokes. “Then something’s off. And we’re gonna find out what.”

I close my eyes, breathing in deeply, and letting the scent of his hoodie and peppermint candy calm the static in my head.

“But first,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at me properly, “we’re not staying in this house while you crawl out of your own skin.”

“I’m fine,” I lie, badly.

“You’re pacing like you’re on fire.”

“I feel like I’m on fire.”

“Good. Let’s burn some of it off.”

“What?”

“You and me. Gym. Now.”

I blink. “I just told you I might get suspended from the team and you want to go work out?”

“I want you to punch something that isn’t your bedroom wall,” Sage says, tilting his head. “I know you. When you have nowhere to put that emotion, you spiral. When you spiral, you pace. When you pace, you stew. And when you stew, you make it worse.”

I exhale, shaking my head. “Sage—”

“Luca.” He crosses his arms. “I will drag you there.”

I can’t do anything but listen because he knows me. He knows how my head works and knows exactly what I need when I get like this.

It’s terrifying.

But also, it’s kind of everything.