Текст книги "The End Game"

Автор книги: Kate McCarthy

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

Brody

Damien shrugs at me. “Maybe they went upstairs.”

His offhand comment has my hands curling into fists.

Jax elbows him sharp in his side. “Ow!”

“You’re an asshole,” my cousin adds.

“What? Why?” Damien shrugs again and downs the remains of his beer. Tossing the empty cup in the direction of a big open bin nearby, he smirks. “Maybe they did.”

Jax and I share a mutual glance. Judging by his unhappy expression, he suspects Damien could be right. Not saying a word, I turn and make for the stairs at the back of the house, taking them two at a time. They’re both behind me when I reach the second level, stalking down hallways and shoving open doors. I’m panicked by the time I reach the third and top level of the house without finding either of them. I’m reaching for the handle of the second door when I hear a loud sob and Jordan shout, “Get off me you sick fuck!”

Heart in my throat, I shove the door open. Kyle has Jordan pinned against a couch, her skirt pushed up around her hips and a hand in her panties. Her face is mashed sideways into the cushion, but she’s squirming hard and manages to get an arm loose and elbow him in the gut.

“You bitch!” he snarls and rounds a hard open palm to the side of her face, the sound a loud crack in the small room.

Burning rage blinds me. Its onset is so swift and hard it overtakes my body completely. I barely register what I’m doing when I pick Kyle up and throw him across the room. The sound of his body slamming into the wall fuels my anger. He hits the ground with a grunt and rolls on to his hands and knees.

Reaching Kyle’s side, I kick him hard in the gut. He cries out and drops instantly, rolling to his back and gasping for air. It’s not enough. I want to fucking kill him for putting his hands on Jordan. Without another thought, I’m on him. Straddling his body, I smash a fist in his face, my knuckles burning from the impact. It’s a good burn. I want more of it. I want motherfucking blood.

We lock in a furious struggle and my elbow cracks him in the eye. He falls back with a howl, disoriented and weakened. Not giving him anytime to recover, my fist smashes him in the face again. The bones in his nose crunch beneath the impact and blood spurts hot and wet, oozing down his face in a river of red and covering both of us.

Jordan says something, but I can’t hear it over Kyle’s loud groans. He locks his legs around me and twists, shoving me sideways onto the floor. My head hits the timber boards. It leaves me dizzy for a moment, and I miss seeing the roundhouse punch Kyle aims. It lands on my jaw and my gut twists with pain. Motherfucker.

“Brody!” Jordan cries out.

But I don’t hear anything. All I see is that snake in the grass with his hands on my girl. My eyes fly open, landing on Kyle. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you,” I slur.

I roll and take him back down. My fists pummel hard, hitting anywhere and everywhere I can reach. I’m in a zone of bloodlust and there’s no breaking free of it. Loud shouts come from behind me. I don’t know how many hands grab hold, dragging me off Kyle’s prone form.

“You sonofabitch!” I yell, my voice hoarse and chest heaving with rage as they hold me back. “Why? What did I ever do to you?”

Kyle groans, struggling to move. No one offers to help him.

Suddenly Jordan is right there and whoever has hold of me lets go. My jaw locks and my eyes burn as I take her in. Her makeup is smeared and her hair’s tangled. Her right cheekbone is bruised and beginning to swell, and the beautiful light in her eyes is just … gone.

“Jordan,” I croak, my heart cracking into a thousand pieces. I don’t know what to do, how to fix what Kyle did, and put everything back the way it was. The arms I wrap around her feel weak and useless. She buries her face in my neck, hot tears plopping thick and fast on my skin. “Are you okay?”

Unable to speak, Jordan simply nods as I stroke a trembling hand over the back of her head.

“Did he touch you?”

“He … He …” Jordan licks her lips and swallows, her fingers clutching at my shirt like she’s drowning. “He grabbed my panties. All he managed was to rip them aside and then you were there.”

My arms on her tighten. A minute later and god knows what could’ve happened. “I told you to stay away from that asshole, Jordan. Why were you with him?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “It’s all my fault. But he messed with your grade, Brody.”

“He what?”

She draws back and looks me in the eye. “The midterm. I knew it. All I needed was for him to admit it. I tried to record it on my phone. God, I thought it was a great plan but he knew. Somehow he knew.”

A sick feeling lodges in my gut. My eyes fall to where Kyle’s trying to pick himself up off the floor. His hand slips in blood as he rolls onto his hands and knees.

Brody

“Get her out of here, Madden,” Jax says.

I look from him back to Kyle. His face is a mess. I did that. Satisfaction and shock both hit me at once. I’ve punched a few guys in my life, but nothing so violent as this, and never over anything more than a bit of bullshit. This is a full-blown assault. Kyle didn’t stand a chance. I’ve always been bigger than him. Faster. Stronger. But he deserved it and then some. Jesus fucking Christ, who cares about the grade, his hands were touching her.

I want to rip into him all over again, but Jordan has hold of my shirt, her teeth beginning to chatter. She needs somewhere safe and familiar. Jax is right. I need to get her home.

“We’ll take care of this,” he adds.

We share a quick glance, my gratitude deeper than the damn ocean. I nod and croak, “Thanks, bud.”

We leave out the back way and walk around the house where my car is still double-parked out front. The drive back to Jordan’s apartment is quiet. My right hand rests on her thigh, reassuring her I’m right here. Jordan does nothing more than glance at it before returning her gaze out the window. She’s a zombie right now, and I don’t know what to say or do to bring her back to life. My heart aches. My knuckles ache. Every part of me motherfucking aches.

“I’m okay,” she says into the unforgiving silence. Her eyes are still trained on the dark scenery passing us by, so she must be feeling my constant, worried glances.

“No. You’re not.”

Jordan lets out a low, shaky breath. “I am.”

“It’s not your fault, baby.”

She presses her lips together.

“I don’t care about what he did. I’ll make up the grade. Kyle Davis has always been a thorn in my side. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be used to it!”

I shift my hold on her thigh and take her hand in mine. It’s cold. I give it a squeeze. “I’ve never had anyone fight in my corner the way you do.” I bring her hand to my lips, giving it a kiss. She looks across at me. “Granted, I do not like the way you went about it, but thank you all the same.”

A tear spills over and tracks down her cheek. She wipes it away with her free hand. “I’ll always fight in your corner, Brody.”

When we get inside her apartment, Hayden and Leah are snuggled on the couch. An action movie is playing out on the television and they’re bickering over a bowl of popcorn. Both their heads turn in our direction.

Leah frowns, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Where’ve you be—”

Jordan pastes an overly bright smile on her face and cuts her off, pulling free of my hold. “Just going to have a quick shower.”

Leah’s gaze cuts to me, her eyes narrowing further as Jordan makes straight for the bathroom. I shake my head, silently telling her to let it go.

When I follow behind Jordan, she shuts the door in my face, calling out, “I won’t be a minute.”

Shit.

I rap on the door. “Jordan.”

“I won’t be a minute,” she says, her voice a little harder, and I hear the lock click in place.

I turn around. Leah and Hayden are both watching me. Leah grabs for the remote off the coffee table and hits pause on the movie. Setting it back down, she hands over the bowl of popcorn to Hayden. He grabs it with a monkey grip, his expression gleeful. With his giant paw of a hand, he shoves in a huge mouthful while Leah gives me her full attention. “What the hell, Madden?”

“Babe,” Hayden mutters, popcorn falling out of his mouth and littering his shirt. He picks up the fallen pieces and shoves them back in as he speaks. “Don’t get involved in their domestic. It’s none of our business.”

“Jordan isn’t feeling well,” I tell them.

Leah’s expression turns a little alarmed at the mention of illness. “What happened?”

Hayden gives me a sympathetic shrug. “Dude.” He holds the bowl out toward me. “Popcorn?”

“No,” I tell him, not moving from the door. “Thanks.”

Hayden kicks his feet up on the coffee table, shoveling in another mouthful for himself. “So. Big game in a few days, huh?”

Big game is an understatement. It’s the National Championship game against Kansas State. Win this and it will be the first time CPU has ever won a conference title in two straight years. It’s the biggest game of my life, and I can’t even think about it right now. “Yeah.”

“At least it’s not far to go.”

The game is being played in Waco, Texas. It’s a short bus ride, but we arrive days earlier. Our team has media to deal with, press conferences, a fan meet-and-greet, breakfast functions and dinner functions, and god knows what else. “No, not far. What about—”

I’m cut off by the sound of a loud sob penetrating through the door. I don’t even knock. Grabbing the handle, I shove hard, putting my shoulder into it. The flimsy lock buckles, letting me through.

What greets me makes my throat close up. Jordan is sitting naked in the bottom of the shower. She’s closed up in a tight, vulnerable ball, her face pale and all the fight in her gone. The shock from Kyle’s attack is wearing off.

I get inside the shower. My shirt and jeans stick to my skin as I reach down and pick her up. She can’t curl any tighter as I clutch her against my chest and step out from under the water.

“Brody,” she sobs, trying to speak.

I brush my lips over the top of her head. “Shhh.”

Half-resting her on the basin, I loosen my hold and reach for a towel. Sliding it off the rack, I use it to cover her shivering form. “Let’s just get you warm and dry.”

I carry Jordan to her room. When I set her on the edge of the bed and go to draw back, she clings to me like a koala. “Don’t leave.”

I fix my eyes on hers. “I’m not leaving you. I promise. I’m just getting out of these wet things. Okay?”

Jordan presses her lips together and nods. She lets me go, and I draw back and tug my tee shirt over my head. It drops with a wet plop on the floor.

It’s not until Jordan starts rummaging inside my bag for dry clothes that I remember the pills. It doesn’t take her long to find the bottle, holding it up to read the label. It’s too late for me to snatch them from her.

“Brody,” she whispers.

With her back to me, she sinks to her knees and unscrews the cap. Two solitary pills rattle around inside it. Two. That’s all I have left, and I barely remember taking them at all.

I swallow the guilt. “They’re not mine.”

Jordan shakes her head. “Please don’t lie to me.”

“They’re not, I swear.”

“Fuck you, Brody.”

Her harsh curse shocks me. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Getting to her feet, Jordan caps the lid and turns to face me, her eyes furious. “Fuck you!”

“Jordan—”

“Shut up!” she screams and throws the bottle at my chest. It bounces off and hits the floor. “Did you take all those pills? Is this why you did so well on your final? Why you’re suddenly getting amazing grades and killing it out on the field? You know what I thought?”

She’s looking at me the same way my father does, with anger and a whole boatload of disappointment. Fuck it hurts. I lift my chin and fold my arms, bracing for the worst of it. “What did you think, Jordan?”

“I thought your hard work was paying off! That I was helping! But it wasn’t either, was it?” Jordan shouts. Bending down, she snatches clothing at random, shoving it all inside my bag. Doing up the zipper, she straightens and smacks it hard against my chest. “Get out.”

Frustration flares as I grapple with my bag before it drops to the floor. “You have no idea what it’s like for me.”

“I have a goddamn clue!”

“You know what? Screw it.” I start for the door, too pissed off to care that I’m still wet and only half dressed. I scoop up the pill bottle on my way out and wave it her mockingly. Her eyes narrow.

Jamming it inside my bag, I seize the door handle and turn, meeting Jordan’s fiery gaze. “You’re so fucking perfect, sweetheart,” I sneer. “No one can live up to your impossible expectations, least of all me. I’m tired of trying. I’m just so fucking tired of it all.”

Jordan’s intake of breath is sharp. Her face screws up and fat tears begin to fall one after the other down her cheeks. I pause in my tracks, a lump filling my throat.

“Go!” she chokes out.

“Jordan—”

“Get out!” she shrieks, choking on a sob. Covering her mouth with her hand, she gives me her back. “God, I’m so stupid. How could I not see?”

I let go of the door handle, my arm falling limply by my side. “I can’t leave like this.”

“You can. The door’s right there.” Jordan turns and waves a hand at it. “Use it.”

“No.” I drop my bag on the floor and take a step toward her. “You know I told you I’d ruin us.”

Jordan stares at me stonily, her eyes red. “You did.”

“And you promised you wouldn’t let me,” I say quietly.

“Because it hasn’t ruined us,” she spits out, dashing away her tears with the backs of her hands. “It’s ruined you.”

I shrug helplessly. “You’re right. It has. And you’re better off without someone like me, but the truth is, I’m better off with someone like you, and I can’t give you up.” I take another step, reaching up to brush the backs of my fingers gently against her swollen cheekbone. She flinches, jerking her head out of reach. My arm drops, hurt burning a giant hole in my chest. “I love you, Jordan.”

Jordan stills, my declaration hanging in the air between us as she stares wordlessly. I take her face in my hands, my fingers trembling against the damp pink of her cheeks. I’m laying myself bare for this girl, and my timing sucks, but it’s too big for me to hold in any longer. “I love you. You’re my home, and I’m yours.” My eyes burn at the thought of losing her. “Don’t ask me to leave. Please.”

“I love you too,” she whispers through tears, and damn it feels good to hear it, to know I’m not alone in this. “But you need to go.”

The words chill me to the bone. “Why? Because I took a few pills?”

“Because you’re a liar and a drug cheat, Brody.” Despair washes over her face. “Because together we’re a volatile mess. And because you’re wrong. My expectations aren’t too high. All I ever wanted was for you to be the best you could be, and for a moment I thought you were truly starting to believe in yourself enough to do that. But it was all a lie. You don’t believe in anything except a little bottle of pills.” Jordan steps around me and walks to the door. I turn as she takes hold of the handle and opens it wide, her jaw trembling with an effort to hold herself together. “Please go.”

My heart splinters into a thousand tiny jagged pieces. It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. “I can’t.”

“Please,” she whispers.

I take a ragged breath and walk to the door. My whole body is vibrating with the need to grab hold of her and not let go. It takes everything I have not to do it. Bending down, I pick my bag up off the floor. I sling it over my shoulder and straighten. All the while Jordan doesn’t look at me, as if the sight of me makes her sick.

Reaching the doorway, I pause, staring straight ahead into the darkened living area. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.”

With morning comes a new kind of hell. My phone rings early, waking me from a shitty sleep. Last night’s events hit me in a rush, and it’s all I can do to take a breath. Realizing it could be Jordan, I snatch the phone from my bedside table and read the screen. My father. God, he has the worst timing in the history of the world. I toss the phone somewhere on my sheets, letting it ring out.

With a groan I fall back on my pillow and cover my eyes with my forearm. I’m losing Jordan and I can’t handle it. I have to stop taking the pills. All I need is to just keep those last two saved for finishing the case studies, and I’ll be as good as gold. No more after that. Then I’ll talk to her and everything will be fine. I can fix this. I have to.

My phone rings again. I snatch it up again, hitting answer this time. “Goddammit, Dad!”

“This is how you answer your phone?”

He sounds as pissed off as I do, and I don’t care. “Nope. That’s a greeting I reserve special just for you.”

My father makes a strangled sound of anger. “I want you home. Now.”

“Dad, what the hell?” I pull the phone from my ear to check the time. Six fucking a.m. “It’s early and I have training.”

“Not anymore you don’t.”

“What?” I sit up in bed. Coach will be furious if I’m late to practice. “You can’t—”

“We both know very well I can. Home,” he enunciates loudly. “Now.”

When I get dial tone, I turn and smash my fist into the pillow with a frustrated growl. There’s nothing I can do when he says jump, except ask how high. I drag myself from bed. After throwing on my training gear, I stick my head in Jaxon’s room. It’s empty. His bed is unmade, but not necessarily slept in. Not unusual, but after leaving him to deal with Davis last night, it leaves me edgy not to find him home.

Arriving at my parents’ house, I pull in the drive. Even at this early hour old man Lewis is out working in his yard. I slam the car door, not bothering to give him my regular casual salute. I just can’t be bothered.

Reaching the porch steps, I notice the door slightly ajar and raised voices. My brow furrows when I hear both my father and uncle caught in a loud argument. I move to the door and pause.

“Brody will be here any minute. I’m sure he has a brilliant explanation,” my father says, his sarcasm crystal clear. “Assault charges, for fuck’s sake. There’s no way Jaxon did this. It has Brody written all over it.”

“Are you kidding me? This has you written all over it.” That comes from my uncle and he sounds pissed. “You’ve done that boy no favors with your violent temper and your contempt.”

“I gave him a roof over his head and food in his mouth!”

“You gave him nothing!” Patrick roars and I flinch. “Brody is troubled and I’ve waited far too long to step in. I should’ve done it a hell of a lot sooner. He’s failing classes, taking drugs, and getting into fights! You raised him to be this way.”

“Drugs? Oh hell no—”

“Enough!” Their shouts are bouncing off the walls, and I can’t take it anymore. I push open the door and step inside, finding them both facing off in the hallway. “What’s going on?”

My father flares his nostrils as he looks at me, hands on his hips. “What’s going on is that I’ve just spent the past two hours cleaning up your mess. Kyle Davis laid assault charges against you last night after you beat the hell out of the kid. Jaxon took the fall for you.”

“Jax was arrested?” My blood boils. Fucking Davis.

“He spent the night in lockup, but we got the matter cleared up,” Patrick says. “Jaxon’s on his way home. Speaking of…” he glances at his watch “…I need to get home as well.” Giving my shoulder a firm squeeze, my uncle looks at me. “Brody I don’t know what Kyle did, but I can’t believe all this was over nothing. My door’s always open for you if you want to talk.”

He leaves and when the door clicks shut behind him I turn to my father. “How?” I ask. “How did you clear it up?”

“We had to pay people off.” His voice rises. “Including Kyle Davis, who blamed the whole incident on you.” He bridges the distance between us, getting in my face. “And he wasn’t cheap, so you owe me for this.”

My eyes narrow. “I owe you? I would’ve taken the charges. I didn’t ask you to fix it. You fixed it for yourself and your goddamn political career so don’t even try pretending otherwise.”

Dad jabs a finger at me. “You watch your mouth. My political career pays for the clothes on your back.”

Tugging my tee shirt over my head, I shove it against his chest. “Here.” He grabs it, his expression pissed. “Have it back. You can have them all back. That’s how much I care about what you do for me.”

I start for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Training,” I say without looking back.

“Like hell you are,” Dad growls.

My bicep is grabbed and I come to a grinding halt. I half turn, the fury emanating from my father palpable. “You can’t just—”

His palm cracks hard across my face, cutting off my comment. My head snaps sideways and pain blooms across my cheekbone. “Don’t you dare leave when I haven’t finished speaking to you.”

“So finish,” I say to my dad as I shove him backward, hiding the pain from his slap. Violence is the only form of communication we’ve ever had. Why change things now?