Page 57

CARSON

I read Nylah’s text for the twentieth fucking time, then slap my phone down with a growl.

I can’t reply.

I don’t even have a right to.

Besides, isn’t it bullshit anyway?

How can she want me when she can do so much better?

I saw her face when her dad was warning her away from me. Deep down, she knows I’m bad news.

She’s just being nice, trying to say I’m worth it.

But I’m not.

And she shouldn’t be wasting her time fighting for me.

Man, I feel like shit right now.

Everything hurts. My head feels like it’s been cut in half with a chainsaw. My throat is scratchy and swollen. I’m one big living, walking bruise.

And now someone’s bashing on my door, making it a million times worse.

“What?” I growl, tempted to throw my phone at whoever’s about to walk into my room.

It creaks open and Zander appears. He’s holding a to-go cup of something. It better not be coffee. I fucking hate that shit.

“Hot chocolate,” he murmurs, holding it out for me.

I glare at him, wishing it was something stronger.

“Would you just take it already?” He frowns at me. “My next class starts in fifteen minutes.”

Stalking around my bed, I snatch it off him with a mumbled thank-you.

“It wasn’t my idea,” he mutters. “Sienna made me do it. She would have brought it up herself, but she’s kind of afraid of you right now. And so is Zoey.”

My chest instantly goes tight, the air in my lungs suddenly thick, making it impossible to breathe. I should ask why they’re so afraid, but I can’t. I don’t want to know why. Fuck. Fuck!

“You were kind of vile last night.” Zander’s expression goes hard.

Shit, I knew he was pissed off with me.

I frown at him.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

Looking over my shoulder at my rumpled bed covers, I turn back and shake my head.

“We picked you up from a party. I don’t know what the fuck you put in your body, but as it wore off, you were a wreck. Screamed the fucking house down.”

That explains the sore throat. I touch my neck; the thought of making Zoey scared is a fucking knife through the stomach.

“You also tried to give Wily a decent shiner and then threw your lamp at Grady when he came in to help.”

My eyes dart to the damaged light on the floor and I swallow, shaking my head and struggling to recall any of that shit.

All I can think about is Nylah.

I stare at the spot where she landed yesterday.

Fuck, was it only yesterday?

“Listen, I know you’re going through some shit right now, and I really want to support you. But not at the expense of my family. I shouldn’t have to leave campus to come back here and check that my girls are safe.”

My stomach drops down to my knees.

Fuck.

“Whatever it is that’s eating you, I’m here to listen, okay? But don’t go getting drunk and high like that again. You’re an asshole when you drink. So just, please… stop. Get your shit together, because we need you, man.”

I shake my head. No, he doesn’t. Nobody fucking needs me.

Clenching my jaw, I place the hot chocolate on the nightstand and grab my jacket and boots.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting out of here.” I gather my shit, not knowing where the hell I’m gonna go but just needing to get away.

“Carson, I’m not kicking you out. You don’t have to leave.” Zander steps into my path, but I slap my hand on his chest.

It’s taking maximum effort not to shove him away from me.

“I gotta go, man.” My voice cracks, and I wince.

“Is your head clear enough to drive?”

I sniff and nod, pushing past him.

I don’t fucking know if it is. All I know is that I have to get out of this house so Sienna and Zoey can be safe.

I can’t fucking stay here and keep ruining everything.

Thumping down the stairs, I slam the front door behind me and jump onto my bike. My insides are a shaking mess, and what I really want to do is find a bar and get shitfaced again.

You’re an asshole when you drink.

I growl, revving the engine and firing out of the driveway. Swerving around the corner, I head for the highway. I have to get out of this fucking place.

So I drive like a demon, ignoring the speed limit and careening down the roads until I’m pulling up outside Dad’s prison.

It’s not visiting day, but I don’t give a shit.

I need to see my old man.

Wrenching the door open, I storm into the reception area and am greeted by the stone-faced chick who usually signs me in.

Storming up to the counter, I slap my hands down and bark, “McAvoy, Griffin. I need to see him.”

She sighs and gets up from her chair. “It’s not visiting day, kid.”

“I don’t give a shit. Make an exception, please. He’s my dad. I gotta see him.”

Her hard gaze softens, her eyes taking on this look I don’t want to decipher as I rest my head on the plexiglass separating us and wonder how hard I’m gonna have to beg.

“Carson.” As soon as she says my name like that, I know I’ve fucking lost.

“Please,” I grit out. “Just let me?—”

“Even if it was visiting day, he doesn’t want you here.”

My head pings back, my eyes flicking to her as I growl, “That’s bullshit!”

With a soft sigh, she rests her hand next to mine. “He’s requested no more visits from you.”

“But I’m his son!”

“I know.” She blinks, looking kind of sad. “But it’s his right to choose who he sees. And he doesn’t want you coming here anymore.”

I back away from the counter, still shaking my head.

“I’m sorry.”

Yeah, right. I’m sure she fucking is.

“This is bullshit,” I mumble, then let out this feral roar and yell, “Fucking bullshit!”

She tenses, resting her hand on her Taser while a couple guards move into action, stepping toward me like they’re trying to tame a wild beast.

I back away before they can get too close, slamming out yet another door and stalking to my bike.

Swinging my leg over the seat, I let it bob like crazy while I try to figure out what the fuck to do.

Dad doesn’t want me.

He doesn’t fucking want to see me again.

Johnson doesn’t want me in his house.

Coach thinks I’m not good enough.

Sienna and Zoey are fucking scared of me.

My housemates hate me, and…

And Nylah is too good for me.

“Fuck.” I shove my helmet on, then start the engine and scream out of the parking lot.

I don’t know where the fuck to go. It’s not like Football Frat can be home anymore.

I’m no fucking good to nobody.

Those words swirl through my head on repeat, taunting me the whole way back to Nolan.

I pass the town sign, my gut clenching as I try to figure out what the fuck I’m gonna do.

Should I even stay?

Where else are you gonna go? Back to California?

Fuck that. I don’t want to be anywhere near Johnson.

I slow at the end of the street, glancing to my right, knowing it will lead me to Nolan U—the place I’ve called home for the last two and a half years.

I thought I fit, but I obviously don’t.

With a soft growl, I turn left, gunning it away from campus and heading west, past the outskirts of town and onto the back roads. I hit the winding corners, lined with naked trees. Winter is on its way. It’ll be snowing soon. Any day now those white flakes will hit, and where will I be?

Fuck, where will I be?

The deep ache inside me starts to pulse and grow. I fucking hate this feeling.

I don’t know what to do with it.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper, swerving off the road and down a gravel trail that will take me to a lookout point I’ve been to before. I bring chicks here sometimes. We make out. We drink. We fuck.

Nylah’s never been here, though. She’s different. She’s special.

She’s not yours anymore.

My bike swerves and fishtails when I take the corner too fast. I tense, regaining control and accelerating out of the corner.

The trees start to thin, and then I’m swerving into that open patch of land, the late-afternoon sky darkening before me, the open expanse just beyond the cliff approaching at speed.

I could just fly right off that thing, accelerate into the abyss.

It’d be the ultimate rush.

The last ride.

But instinct takes over and my hands grip the brakes. My bike hates me for it, the wheels spinning out on the gravel and tipping me sideways.

I jump off just before the bike hits the dirt and watch it skid and slide… slide… slide…

Fuck, no!

I start to run, but I’m too late.

“No!” I shout. “No, no, no!”

My precious Harley, my fucking pride and joy, hits the edge and keeps going, tumbling and crashing down to the rocks below.

The sound of crunching metal is fucking painful.

I chase after it, screeching to a stop on the edge and staring down at the crumpled wreck. Wrestling off my helmet, I take in the mangled heap and let out this ferocious cry. It doesn’t even sound human.

My father gave me that bike. He left it for me for when I was old enough to ride it.

I’ve looked after that thing like it was my own dog or something. My best friend.

“Shit!” I bellow, throwing my helmet down on top of the twisted metal.

It bounces off the rocks, tumbling and pinging right past the wreckage.

“You fucking idiot,” I berate myself. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

My words get swallowed by the open space before me, sucked into the darkening sky.

Gazing back down at my mess of a bike… all the way down… I try to calculate the fall.

How quickly would I plummet?

The soles of my boot flirt with the edge, skimming the rugged rocks as I wonder what it’d feel like to just let go.

I could drop.

I could land next to my bike, and it’d be over.

No one would miss me.

And maybe this gnawing ache in my chest would stop, you know? If I just let it all end right now, it wouldn’t hurt anymore.

Right?