Page 52 of Hate the Game (Playing Dirty #1)

***Savannah***

As soon as I turned my phone on I had several texts that I ignored to get a car.

Once I was in my uber I shut it off again without looking at the messages.

I couldn’t obsess over what the message from Ryder might’ve said, not when I was about to face my brothers.

I needed to figure out how to keep a good face when all I wanted to do was cry and scream.

The emotions warring in me made me confused about who I wanted to scream at, too. It was a mess.

The uber dropped me off at the bottom of the driveway since there were cars parked everywhere, even on the lawn in front of my brothers’ house.

I’d moved in with them as soon as they got it because the idea of living with my dad without them there was awful.

I considered it my home, too, but when I saw the state of the place, the sheer amount of people drunkenly stumbling around, I wanted to run after the uber and retreat to my crappy little dorm room at USC.

Anxiety made me jittery as I walked towards the front door.

I instantly regretted coming home. I felt different.

I was still in the same body, still the same on the outside but I felt like a stranger inside.

I hadn’t been at USC for very long and already my Texas house didn’t feel like home.

I hated it. I wanted to claw at my skin.

I was a traitor. A no good, dirty, rotten traitor.

When I’d left the house to go to USC I’d been so confident in what I was doing.

I had it all worked out with a pretty checklist and I was going to get in and get out.

I’d planned on coming back to Texas at the end of the semester and carrying on with my head held high. Except I felt lower than dirt.

My brothers were expecting me to walk in with embarrassing stories about The Apex Three.

They were ready to laugh at Jax, Cole, and Ryder over what I was doing to them.

I couldn’t, though. I didn’t believe in the mission anymore but the idea of telling them that was way too much for me to ever consider.

A drunk guy bumped into me and sloshed beer down the front of my dress without bothering to apologize.

I hadn’t even made it into the house yet.

I forged on but every step felt like moving closer and closer to hell.

The house was even wilder inside. It reeked off beer and weed and I didn’t even recognize the place.

It was trashed. A sinking feeling in my stomach had me shoving through people to get upstairs to my room.

There were just as many drunk assholes on the top floor and I quickly found out that several of them were in my room, fucking on my bed.

I barely even glanced at them because the state of my room was so awful it shocked me.

All of my things were either gone or were destroyed.

My closet was open and when I looked inside I gasped.

Someone had shit in the middle of the floor.

I would’ve screamed if it didn’t mean breathing in.

Everything was ruined. It wasn’t my room anymore.

It wasn’t my house. Having my room turned into a bathroom slash porn shoot made that pretty clear.

I was a zombie as I went back downstairs, but unfortunately not the brain eating kind.

At least then people would’ve gotten out of my way faster.

I passed a couple of guys doing lines of cocaine off the kitchen island and felt my world tilting off course.

I’d never seen my brothers throw such a wild party.

The weed and beer might’ve been pretty typical but the sheer size of the party and the more intense drug use was new. It scared the shit out of me.

I stumbled out of the back of the house and sucked in much needed fresh air.

I was about to start screaming for my brothers when I spotted them on the other side of the pool, spread out on lawn chairs with girls draped all over them.

For a moment rage threatened to blind me.

I was being torn apart with guilt and responsibility while they were just having a great time.

That anger made me feel even shittier about myself.

I never got truly angry at them. I was always too grateful for everything they’d done for me.

A couple of kisses with the men they blamed for potentially ruining their career and I wasn’t feeling quite so generous, apparently. I was disgusted with myself.

I couldn’t face them. I didn’t want them to see the guilt on my face but just as much, I didn’t want to see them wasted and belligerent. They were the men I respected most in the world and they were making fools of themselves. I didn’t want to see them like that.

For the second time that day I found myself running away. I did it in style that time, though. I knew where my brothers hid their keys so it was easy to open the garage and drive out in Hayes’ giant truck. If I bumped a few vehicles out of the way as I left, that would be someone else’s problem.

I drove on autopilot to our dad’s house. I didn’t want to see him but there was no way I was staying at the party house where people just shit in random places.

The hits just kept coming, though, because when I pulled to a stop in front of Dad’s house he was on the porch with a girl my age. He plucked her off of his lap and happily came down the steps to greet me, until he saw it was me.

“Savannah?” He frowned and looked behind me like I was hiding the boys. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you in Carolina or something?”

The girl, clearly tipsy, came giggling towards us. “Oh, my gosh. Is this our third for the night, baby? She’s cute!”

I held up my hands and tried to fight off a gag. “No, thank you. I can’t do this.”

I got back in the truck and sprayed them both with dust as I sped away from that particular version of hell.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until I’d parked Hayes’ truck in the first spot I found at the airport.

It was the strange looks from security that sent me scurrying to the bathroom to make sure I hadn’t ended up with party residue on my face somehow.

My pitiful reflection staring back at me, tears running down my cheeks, made my shoulders slump.

I rubbed at my eyes and turned my phone on to buy a ticket back to USC.

I just wanted to get the hell away from the men in my family.

It was pathetic but I really needed a hug. And maybe some of Blaire’s brownies.

I had a long wait for my plane so I found a corner to curl up in and dialed Blaire. My dress reeked of beer and I felt like crap but the moment I heard her voice I felt a wave of relief.

“Bestie! How’s Texas? Found my cowboy yet?”

“If there’s one hanging out at the airport I’ll grab him for you.” I glanced around and noted that the odds were slim.

“You’re still at the airport?”

I let out a watery laugh. “Yeah. I’m coming back.”

“Why? What happened?”

I quickly told her everything and managed to contain most of my tears. “So, yeah. I’m coming back. I shouldn’t have come here. Not right now. I just… I thought it would help.”

“Well get your cute butt back here and I’ll make you brownies. Extra chocolate if you hurry.” She hesitated. “Your guys were looking for you.”

“What? What guys?”

She snorted. “The guys you’re playing footsie with. Bad boy Cole, Hottie Ryder, and my blah brother. Jax called me, all panicked, asking where you were. I thought he was going to implode when I told him where you were.”

“Oh god. I can’t even begin to process what that could mean right now.” Sighing, I curled up tighter. “Someone spilled beer on me. People keep staring at me and they probably think I’m some kind of weirdo.”

“Then they’d be right.” She laughed. “Come over when you get back.”