Page 8

. . .

Water gathers and splashes over my head and down my body while I stand under the shower, rinsing off the sweat and dirt from yet another win for the season.

The heat from the water feels good on my used and exhausted muscles.

Faded bruises decorate my skin around my sides and ribs, some old and more of a greenish blue and others are new and deep purple.

I barely feel the pain decorating my skin and wear the marks and scars as a reminder of how much closer I am to reaching my goal.

Each game, each victory, is setting me up for the future I crave.

I play through the rage that simmers under my skin, with a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be after Emmarys ripped it out.

She told me her plans changed and she wouldn’t be in Texas.

I had hoped our time together would convince her to change her mind, now that she knew the truth.

But the fall came, classes started back up and there was no Emmarys Lawson registered here.

Soon, games, practices, interviews and everything that comes with being a celebrity athlete became just moves on a chess board against my grandfather, the ultimate opponent.

It has been almost a year since I last saw the love of my life, and once again I walked away from her because of that man and his greed.

Falcon had been right to call me home right away.

The brunch that was organized was masked as a friendly visit but ended in my grandfather reminding everyone at the dining room table that he held all the cards.

Our futures and in Emmarys’s family’s case, their lives, depend on him and his expectations of me.

He didn’t have exact proof that I had snuck out of the state for twenty-four hours, but the threat was there, and almost being caught was still fresh.

I pulled back again right after that, shutting down any link that could possibly connect me to my relationship with Emmarys.

Riggs and Falcon both volunteered to reach out to her, but I shut them down, unsure of what my grandfather was capable of.

He already knew too much. I was being watched and I felt it all the time.

I didn’t even dare breathe her name anymore, and I threatened my best friend and my brother to forget about her too.

Once the water runs cold, I turn it off and get out, toweling off.

Glancing at my reflection, a blank expression is staring back at me.

On the outside, to everyone else, I look calm, bored, maybe a little cocky from another win under my belt.

I am the same with my messy, dark blond hair, green eyes, and tan skin from days spent under the Texas sun.

But it’s the wounds that aren’t visible, festering on the inside, that are the most painful.

I am half-living. Every day is a lie, and I have a very small circle of people I trust who know what is at stake for me.

I’m forced to wear the mask of Texas football’s rising star on the field and king of the campus.

If only they knew how much I hate being shackled here, that none of my fellow students interest me, and that I am using the team to achieve my own personal goal.

I could care less that we won another ‘Natty,’ only that it allowed me to have a private conversation with a different coach from a different university. It made me valuable to him.

Is it a shady move against my current team?

Maybe. Do I give a fuck? No. Six more months and I am burning all of this to the ground.

One more month and I will be out from under my grandfather’s control and a few million dollars richer, and I am using that to escape this place the first chance I can.

I just have to wait for all the pieces to fall into place.

I have to wait for my revenge against the man who shares my blood and makes my life miserable.

My cell phone vibrates on the bathroom counter, pulling me out of my darkening thoughts.

A text message from my best friend flashes on the screen.

Riggs: Are you coming tonight?

My hands fist on the counter and I let my head drop while I breathe deep, settling the anger that builds in my chest, before I do something stupid like punch the mirror again.

Tonight, there’s another party on campus, and it would be suspicious if I’m not there.

I have to go in order to fuel the dialogue that I love this life, that this win is the best thing to ever happen to me.

I hate it. Glaring at my reflection, my fingers move over the screen and then hit send.

Me: I’ll be there.

I drop the phone and walk to my room, over to the dresser and grab a pair of briefs and dark jeans.

I have thirty minutes to get my shit together before I leave the house and get to the party.

My fingers brush over the little jar of salve on top of the dresser and take a scoop before rubbing it over my newest tattoo on my left rib cage.

It’s almost healed, but it is too important to me not to have it looking the best amongst the other swirls of colors, designs and letters that canvas my skin.

This one is a queen’s crown, twisted in vines and Marigold, the flowers for her birth month. Her.

My hockey queen.

My dark obsession.

My little liar.

My fucking ex-girlfriend.

Emmarys lied when we planned our life together after Crimson Bay.

If she had just stuck to the plan, if she had believed in me at all after her prom night, then this year of misery would have been so much different.

Instead, I was forced to release her, forced to acknowledge the end of our relationship.

We were no longer together and while I know I’m responsible for it, anger and bitterness flood my veins just thinking about it.

I hate not knowing what she is doing, who she is with, if she replaced me when I will never be able to move on from her.

Memories of her haunt me, plaguing my days and keeping me tossing and turning at night.

I should have handled things differently.

She should have trusted me when I said I’d always love her.

Now I’m stuck here, in limbo, half-living.

Hating her. Loving her. Wanting to destroy her.

Wishing I could just get my hands on her.

Six more months. Six. Closing my eyes, I pull a white t-shirt on over my head and grab my faded Texas hoodie, throwing that on next. Keys, wallet and cell phone in hand, I wander through the football house and outside before sliding behind the wheel of my truck and heading over to the party.

As always, the place is already crawling with bodies.

Guys from the team are throwing a football in the front lawn while someone is maintaining the door.

I slip past, while everyone cheers and claps me on the back.

Feminine hands grab at me, sliding along my arms, trying to seduce me to stay there, while I make my way to the back of the house outside.

Despite the fact that it's the dead of winter, the outdoor pool is heated and connected to a hot tub currently full of girls barely wearing swimsuits, and some without tops on at all.

Guys are leaning on the edges, drinking from colorful cups and bottles staring at them.

Shaking my head, I grin and wave at my fans until I see the only two people I care about.

My best friend Riggs is leaning on a bar edge, while a few girls from the cheer team surround him.

He likes the attention unlike me. Our eyes meet and I give him a subtle chin lift, telling him without words, to make sure he keeps his jersey chasers over there, far from me.

Falcon sees me next and turns from the girl who is mixing a few drinks for another group of people and flashes me his megawatt smile.

“Bro.” He claps my shoulder. “You made it.”

“Said I would,” I grind out, shaking my head.

Someone nearby hands me a closed bottle of beer and I take it, even though I won’t be drinking.

I never drink during the season, and especially not at a party when my heart is racing and I’m missing my girl.

My luck I’d end up texting her or finding a way to contact her and blow my plan to shit.

It's better to stay sober and have a clear mind.

“You did say that, but you also like to hide away at the gym as much as possible,” Falcon continues, taking the last drink of his own beer. I hand him the one in my hand and with a smirk he pops the top off.

“Well, I’m here.”

He studies me, his eyes searching mine. “There’s something different about you. I’d say it's stress from how hard coach has been working you, but it's more than that. You look unhinged. I have a feeling it has something to do with Emma and your impending birthday.”

I stiffen, and he goes silent, knowing that he said her name out loud, something we just don’t do.

Riggs slides over next to us after shaking off his fan club. “We’re just worried about you, Shepp.”

Neither of them has to say it out loud. I know they're worried about my plan. I know they have reservations about how I’m about to implode my life.

They just don’t get it though. Even walking away from this team and going to a new one, isn’t a hardship for me.

Truth is that I used this team, built them up, brought them a few championships and it's all so that when I request a transfer to Michigan, that coach won’t turn me down.

He would be a fool to, and would probably lose his job.

So far my talks with him, feeling him out, have been going smoothly.

After I turn twenty-one in February, I can actually pursue him and the team more.

Then all I have to do is lay low until the school year starts and make my move, announce it to the world, and watch all the light and enjoyment die in my grandfather’s eyes.

“Don’t worry about me. I have it under control,” I say around my teeth while forcing a smile. Falcon exhales and hangs his head dramatically while Riggs rolls his eyes.

“I don’t mean to overstep, big brother, but you can’t blame us for worrying. You’ve been coasting the past year.”

“Let’s just celebrate tonight's win, yeah? There’s nothing else to say. You know my plans, and they’re not changing.” I shrug and reach behind the makeshift bar to grab a bottle of water.

They both know I’m bullshitting, but if we keep talking the easy, calm mask I’m wearing is going to crack.

Riggs lands a fist on the top of my shoulder. “If you say so. But what if it's all for nothing. Maybe she has another man already.”

My gaze snaps to my friend’s and when he sees the darkness and violence that his words create, he takes a small step back.

It's not that his words aren’t something I’ve contemplated on my own; it's just that they don’t matter.

Once Emmarys Lawson is in the same vicinity again as me, I’m going to win her back and never let go again, no matter what it takes.

My family, hockey, football, or some guy won’t change my plan or the inevitable outcome.

Time is counting down and I just have to keep everything close to my chest for a little longer.

“Thanks for worrying, but I got it. And that shit doesn't matter,” I tell them, glancing at both of them so they see how dead set I am. “She’s mine.”