Page 79 of The Retaliation You Deliver

He walks to the door as a smile curls at my lips as the memory of being on the hood of Leon’s car assaults me.

“Yeah, I did.”

He groans as if he’s in pain before disappearing from my room and leaving me alone to try to process the events of the night.

14

Macie

“Macie?” Nate’s voice booms through our dorm, the urgency in his tone makes me drop my pen and climb from the bed.

I went to classes yesterday morning, but I struggled to focus. My mind kept drifting back to last Thursday and the events that followed my morning classes. The second I could escape the auditorium, I ran back here—via the coffee shop for cake—and I’ve hid ever since.

I’ve tried to make progress on all my assignments, but my mind keeps drifting to Leon, wondering what he did after he left here Wednesday night, if he got himself into another fight, if he’s okay.

He looked and sounded so broken when I told him to bring me home that I can’t shift the dread that’s sitting heavy in my stomach.

“Mace?” Nate booms again, making me move a little quicker thinking something is wrong.

“What is it?” I ask, racing around the corner to where he’s sitting at the dining table with his tablet.

“Have you seen the news?”

“Uh… no. Why?”

“Look.”

He spins his tablet around and I take a few steps closer so I can read it.

“Football legend Brett Dunn was found dead in a hotel room. Holy shit,” I gasp.

“Have you spoken to Leon?” Nate asks as I lower myself to the chair beside him so I can read more.

“N-no, nothing since Wednesday night. Shit, he died on Wednesday night.” I lean forward, scanning the words quickly. “Found in a hotel room. Suspected overdose. Jesus.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but maybe you should check on him and see if he’s okay.”

I stare at the image of Brett from his heyday the press have posted alongside the breaking news.

“Leon hated his dad,” I mutter, wondering how he’s taken the news.

“He’s still his dad.”

“Crap.” I sink back into the chair, torn about what to do.

The sensible part of my brain tells me to push it aside, let him deal with it however he needs to and to not get involved. But a bigger part, a much louder part wants to go to him. For some reason that part seems to think that he’s going to need to hear that it’s okay not to mourn a man who helped condemn him to hell despite everyone expecting him to be devastated.

“What are you thinking?” Nate asks.

“I…”

“Go to him, Mace. Something tells me he’ll want to see you.”

Nate’s cell rings, and I nod at him to answer it. He pulls it from his pocket and stands, lifting it to his ear as he walks toward his room.

Pulling his tablet closer once more, I properly read through the details again.

“Shit,” I hiss.