Page 62 of Before You (Reckless Love #2)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

JJ

“DUDE, AS MUCH as it sucks we didn’t win the championship, I’m glad your brother did. I think it softens the blow Hunter didn’t win the Heisman,” Asher says, sprawled out on the girls’ couch as he flips through the movies on a streaming service.

I roll my eyes, not wanting to burst Asher’s bubble.

Hunter was relieved he didn’t win the award.

He said that if he won as a sophomore, it would mean taking it away from a senior who had worked their entire college career for the award when he still had two more years to grow as a player.

If anything, it makes me respect Hunt even more.

There’s no doubting how much he cares about the game as a whole, because I can’t think of many players who would be relieved that someone else won the biggest award in college football.

“We didn’t even make it to playoffs,” I remind him, and he scoffs.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

I look up from my homework to raise my eyebrows at him. “Except it’s not.”

“Well, it’s what I meant,” he says, and his eyes widen. “Holy shit, your professors actually assigned you homework the first week back?”

“It seems like the norm unless you’re a business major,” I say, poking fun at his degree, knowing damn well how smart he is.

“See, this is why jocks are the inferior species,” Bria says to Marley as they walk back in.

“Are you using my blanket?” Marley asks, eyeing the colorful blanket Asher’s using.

“Nope, I found it on the couch, and definitely not in your room. I think you mean to say athletes are the superior species,” Asher corrects as Marley takes a seat next to me.

“He totally stole it from my room, and I cannot listen to Bria explain this again.” She groans, taking a peek at my screen. “Ew, on second thought, I think I’d rather hear about the distinction between an athlete and a jock again.”

I chuckle, shaking my head as I rest my arm on the top of the loveseat behind her. “You mean you don’t like learning about probability theory?”

“Sorry, I really don’t.” Marley makes a face at the same time my phone rings, and I reach for it blindly, slow to pull my gaze away from my girl.

Everything tilts when I see the blocked caller ID, and I freeze, staring at the screen for a moment before standing up. “I have to get this,” I mumble, taking long strides to step through the front door. Is it really him?

“Hello?” I say after shutting the front door behind me. It’s been drizzling all day, a chill looming in the air. “Bailey?”

“Hi,” he says, his voice quiet, and I feel all the air in my lungs disappear.

It’s the first time we’ve spoken since our argument about him living on the streets. Selfishly, I hate he’s calling right now when I’m finally okay and settling into a new normal. I hate how Bailey only calls me. I hate all of this.

“I didn’t know if I’d hear from you again.” At least I’m being honest.

“You’re not going to.”

The words send an icy chill through my veins, and the world around me slows to a stop. “What are you talking about?” I ask, trying not to vomit as my stomach churns

“This isn’t fair to you for me to keep calling. I just wanted to say goodbye so I could tell you I love you. I hung up last time before saying it, and I’m sorry,” Bailey says, sniffling as warning bells begin going off in my head.

“B, no, it’s really okay you call. This isn’t goodbye because I’m always going to be here for you.”

He’s slow to respond, and my anxiety is climbing to new heights I didn’t realize it was capable of before.

“You shouldn’t be okay with this, and you certainly shouldn’t be there for me.

I’ve done nothing to deserve it after I ruined everything.

Tell our parents . . .” Bailey trails off, and my heart leaps into my throat.

What’s changed? Why is everything so different now?

“Please tell them I love them, and it wasn’t their fault.

I was wrong, and I didn’t want to admit it. ”

“Bailey, don’t you dare fucking end this call. Where are you? I’ll come get you, just please, come home, it’s okay,” I plead, tears burning in my eyes while the edges of my vision blur as pure panic begins to set in.

“It’s not. Too much has happened, but thanks for being a great brother. I love you, JJ,” he says, and the emotion in his voice wraps around my neck like a noose.

“Please—” I’m cut off by the phone beeping and I don’t know what to think.

I drag my hands through my hair, feeling like my heart has just been ripped straight out of my chest.

I take it back. I don’t hate he calls me. I don’t hate any of this.

How can I fix this?

Pills, they can fix this. I just have t—no. A meeting. I need to go to a meeting.

I pat my pants, fumbling for my keys, but they’re hanging inside on a hook next to the door.

The door opens, and I swivel, watching as the relaxed smile on Asher’s face fades into an expression of seriousness as he steps out, shutting it behind him.

My hand grabs at my chest, clutching my sweatshirt as I gasp for air. “JJ, holy shit.”

“I need my k-keys,” I struggle to say, choking because why did he have to say goodbye?

“What?” he asks, taking a step toward me as a fresh wave of agony rips through me. “Who just called you?”

You’re not going to.

There won’t be more calls. I close my eyes tight, praying this is a bad dream I can wake up from. But Bailey’s still gone, and I’m still suffocating.

I cough, trying to force my body to regulate itself, taking in enough air to help some of the spots dancing across my vision fade away. “Keys—need a meeting,” I choke out, and he opens the door again, snagging them quickly.

“You’re not driving like this. I’ll sit in the car, or do whatever else it is you need me to do, but I’m not letting you go out there in this condition by yourself,” he says, staring at me. “I told you, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, my head spinning as I grab the railing to take the stairs, Asher directly behind me. My phone dings with a text from Marley, asking if we’re coming back inside, but I don’t know how to answer. I know I don’t want to break her heart again by asking her to watch me fall apart.

If I can get to a meeting, I can get my head on straight, and face everythin—

“JJ, you gotta breathe,” Asher says, unlocking my Jeep. I climb into the passenger seat, tears falling down my cheeks.

“He’s gone,” I say, buckling my seatbelt, wishing more than anything I didn’t have to feel any of this pain.

“Who?” he asks, pulling out of the lot onto a road and turning in the direction of the town where I attend meetings.

“He’s not coming back,” I whisper, the horror of this reality sinking in. “I couldn’t convince him to come back, and he’s gone. Bailey’s fucking gone. What am I going to do, Ash?”

Asher looks at me, his features softened by sympathy. “You live.”

Instead, I see past his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the dark car a second before it slams into the driver’s side of my Jeep, causing us to roll not once, not twice, but three times.

It makes it impossible for me to ever forget the sound of breaking glass and crunching metal, and the sight of my best friend going through the windshield before something hits my face and all I see is white.