Page 34 of Tyler (Bummerset Shore University #2)

FIFTEEN

“ W hat the hell is going on?” I snap as I slam my locker shut and tighten the iron grip on my phone.

The high from the practice game win is already gone, wiped out by the twenty missed calls from Missy lighting up my screen.

“Is Jace alright? Can I talk to him? Why did you call me so many times? Where is he?!”

“Ty,” Missy says, way too calm for my liking. “I need you to be Quarterback Tyler King right now, okay? Can you do that for me? I need you to be calm and collected, focused and centered. Can you please get into that zone right now?”

“I was calm, ten fucking minutes ago!” I rub a towel over my freshly showered hair, pacing the space between the lockers until I drop onto the bench, elbows on my knees, another towel wrapped around my hips.

My hand digs into my scalp as my chest tightens.

“Please tell me what happened? You’re scaring me. ”

We only have five more days. Four, technically, since me and the boys are definitely going to the final show in LA. I’ve been holding onto that like a fucking lifeline, and I’m not ready for bad news.

“We’ve got it handled,” she says, hesitating. “But I don’t know—”

“Christ, Missy. Just spill it! ” My voice comes out sharper than I mean to, and Lamar frowns at me while Rafa blinks, pausing mid-step, duffle slung over his shoulder.

“Missy?” Rafa asks, hazel eyes wide. “Like Missy Missy?”

Tuck nudges him toward the exit. Since me and Lam were the last to get back in because we were busy doing captain stuff and reviewing the practice game with the coaches, we’re the only ones left now.

And that’s when she says it. “Jace had drugs.”

I swear my heart fucking stops .

“He what? ”

Lamar, halfway through throwing on pants, jerks his chin at me to put her on speaker. I do, just as she continues.

“Had drugs, accidentally, I think it’s GHB,” she repeats, voice low. “Please don’t panic. He’s safe. Me and Ava had Bowie bring him back to the bus from the club. But he’s been asking for you non-stop. And he’s just… Well…”

“Wait, what ? Is he really okay? What is he doing?” I switch the call to video, needing to see what the fuck is going on.

She’s in what appears to be Ava and Asher’s bedroom, and she gives a hesitant smile when her face pops up.

“Well, ah… he just got rid of his shirt and shoes. He’s working on his pants now…” She turns the camera—and holy shit , there he is. On the fucking bed, caressing his own damn chest and writhing atop the sheets like he’s rehearsing content for an OnlyFans account.

My cheeks burn instantly.

“I thought it was molly at first,” she says, turning the camera back to her.

“But the way he keeps asking us to touch him, the way he wants to touch us, how his eyes keep drooping and his body’s moving all slow and heavy?

I’m pretty damn sure it’s GHB, liquid ecstasy.

In small amounts, it lowers your inhibitions and, well… ”

“How did this happen?” I ask, my voice dropping low, trying to stay calm even as rage builds under my skin.

My Jace got fucking drugged.

Lamar hands me my clothes, already fully dressed, and I put the phone on the bench as I yank on my joggers.

Missy starts talking, voice tight, tells me how Jace finally wanted to let loose, how he smiled and laughed and danced, how she basically gave him the go-ahead to drink because he finally seemed happy enough to want to party, and now she feels guilty as hell.

“How did this happen?” I repeat, pulling my hoodie over my head.

When I grab the phone again, I see her pressing her lips together.

My voice turns razor sharp. “Did Mick have anything to do with it?”

“I’m not sure… I don’t think—”

I interrupt her with a curse. Something snaps.

I’m over that guy. Fucking done . I’ve kept my cool about this dickhead for months .

I didn’t want to jeopardize Jace’s career, not when he’s finally doing so fucking good.

But I can only take so fucking much. I’ve let the rumors roll off my back, let the headlines slide, bit my tongue when I wanted to bite back.

But this ? If he had anything to do with this?

He better watch his back then, because next time I’ll see him? He’s gonna be fucking mine .

“Tyler?”

“Yeah, sorry. But did he have anything to do with it?” I ask again, just needing to know how it happened.

I stride toward the exit, Lamar on my heels with no need to ask. He snags my bag and drops my cap on my head, like he already knows I won’t have the hands or patience for it.

We’re practically jogging to our house—thank fuck it isn’t far—as Missy finally answers.

“No, I don’t think so, Ty.” she says, her voice tight, anxious.

“I’m quite sure Jace took that shot by accident, he didn’t know what was in it.

But when I spotted Jace acting weird on the dance floor, Mick was plastered to him.

Handsy. Way too fucking handsy. Like… pressed up behind him, holding his waist.. .”

My stomach clenches, rage mixing with something cold. With something sharp and unfamiliar. I’m not the guy who loses it. I don’t get angry like this. I never do .

“Jace thought it was you,” she adds, quieter now. “ He thought it was you , Ty. Called him your name. Said he missed you, loved you.” I see her swallow, like she’s trying not to cry. “That’s when I really knew something was wrong.”

Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut for half a second, trying to breathe through the burn behind them. The image of Jace, drugged out of his mind, loose and vulnerable and thinking it was me— thinking that prick was me —makes something inside me fucking die .

And then, in the background, I hear him.

A dreamy, slurred voice. A voice I’d recognize any-fucking-where, even over shitty speaker quality. Soft and sweet and wrecked.

“Ty… is that Ty-ler?” he drawls, the syllables loose, like he’s floating. Like he’s calling for me in a dream.

And it guts me.

“I’m almost home. What do you want me to do? How can I help? Did you call the police? A doctor? What can we do?” I fire off the questions one after the other, barely pausing for breath.

Lamar pushes a protein bar against my chest, and I mouth a quick thank you before ripping it open with my teeth. Shit, I need something in me, my body’s still running on fumes after playing for three hours straight.

“Don’t let him out of your sight,” I grit out, already cutting through the alley that leads to our back entrance. “I don’t care if you have to sit on him—just stay with him.”

“I know, Ty. I know. I’ve got him,” Missy says, steady as hell as I’m munching on the damn protein bar. “I swear I do.”

My screen shifts as she lowers herself beside Jace, and he immediately reaches for her wrist like she’s the sun itself. Drags her hand to his bare stomach and groans at the contact like she’s just saved his damn life.

I see her glance at me through the camera with guilt in her eyes.

“And as for your questions… No. No doctor. He didn’t have much, I can tell.

He just needs to sleep it off.” She pats his stomach.

“We didn’t call the police either. That would mean a report.

Press. Headlines. And I honestly believe it was an accident. He wasn’t drugged on purpose. We—”

Can’t risk it.

“Also,” she adds, stroking Jace’s abs like he’s a damn cat, making him practically purr , “G is basically untraceable. The effects come on quick, and they fade just as fast. He’ll be like this for maybe two more hours. Then he’ll crash. Sleep it off. He’ll be just fine, I promise.”

Physically maybe… I’m just fucking glad they got to him in time and made sure he’s safe.

“What do I do?” I croak as I follow Lam inside, beelining for the stairs after he shoves a Gatorade into my hands. I barely register the wide-eyed looks from the guys in the kitchen as we blow past them. I’ve never been more grateful for Lam than I am right now.

Yeah, sure, the dude acts like he’s working with three brain cells half the time, but when shit hits the fan? When it really counts? He’s always got my back.

“Well… do you know how GHB works?” Missy says as I slam my bedroom door shut behind me and drop onto the bed, cradling the drink like it might give me answers.

“Yeah, no,” I mutter, scrunching up my nose. “I’ve never done drugs, and my boys don’t either. Weekly tests and all that. Besides, it’s just… not my thing.”

She offers a soft smile, her gaze flicking off to the side—toward the door, I think—before she whispers a quiet, “Thank you, Bow.”

I watch as she sets a bucket beside the bed and places a water bottle on the nightstand with practiced hands.

“He’ll need that water tomorrow,” she says, smoothing down the sheets. “And maybe the bucket tonight. Last time he took anything, he got sick for hours.”

That makes me freeze.

“He’s done drugs before?” I ask, startled.

Missy doesn’t look ashamed or defensive, just tired. She gives me a small smile and settles back down now that Bowie’s quietly slipped out of the room.

“Once. Maybe twice. And not like this. That was years ago—before you. Way before all of this. He really didn’t like it and kinda hates it, don’t worry.”

My shoulders drop in relief. I just… don’t like drugs. I never have. I’m not na?ve, I mean, come on, he’s been on a fucking rock tour. I know at least some of the clichés have to be true. But still, hearing her say it, that he’s not a user, not like that, calms me the fuck down.

“And as for how this drug works, and what you can do to help…” she trails off when Jace suddenly pulls her closer, nearly dragging her on top of him.

She laughs as she catches her balance, then shoves a pillow at his chest instead. He clutches it close as he rolls over onto his side, damn near humps his hips against it.

Christ.

“He’s…very horny, isn’t he?” I mutter, not sure whether to be amused or horrified.

Missy presses her lips together, eyes sparkling with something between sympathy and poorly hidden laughter.