Page 24 of Scoring the Player (Chasing Rings #2)

ARNAZ

“Disquiet”

Can you hear the chorale of screams?

Born into grief from broken dreams.

“ T hanks, Aaron.”

“You bet. Call downstairs if you or Ms. Cade need anything,” the doorman replies as he lets me into the condo.

“Hey,” I call out as I slip off my kicks and drop my bag.

I follow the only light, which is coming from her room. The place is silent except for the sound of my socks sweeping the floor.

I slow down in the doorway of her bedroom, transitioning to a tiptoe. I kneel and sweep the curls from her face. She’s out cold. I rub my thumb over the wet circles on her pillow, tracking back to the dried tears streaking her face.

Ignoring the burn in my eyes, I gently cover her with her comforter.

Fifteen years of this shit.

Life’s cruel.

I consider waking her, but it’s always the same thing at the ER.

We wait for hours only to be sent home with 800mg of ibuprofen.

Which, if I had to guess—I lift the open prescription bottle on the nightstand—she already took.

The only real solution is the surgery she has scheduled, and even that isn’t a full cure.

But it gives her the chance of a life with less pain, and that’s more than enough reason for her to try.

A tail of soft fur brushes against my leg.

“Hello, Alfie.” I pluck up the tawny, black, and white cat, kissing him on his fluffy head as he nestles into my arms.

I anchor him in one hand while I shrug off my coat to leave on her door handle, so she’ll know I’m here if she wakes up.