Secret Catch

by Cassie Mae

  I don’t bother with makeup and throw my hair in a pony. I don’t give a crap what I look like anymore. My jeans hang on me, and I have to get a belt so they don’t fall down. The bags under my eyes are purple, and my face is even paler than normal.

  That’s what happens when you can’t sleep or eat.

  Mom doesn’t say anything about me always being in bed and never doing anything, but she makes me get up for dinner with her and Josh. She seems to have gotten better, up for Josh and playing with him.

  I can tell she still wants to talk to me, but I ignore her and stay locked up in my room. Try to study. Go through the motions.

  Mostly though, I just lie in bed holding Tyler’s shirt and wish his arms were around me.

  My sixty seconds a day has turned into twenty-four hours a day.

  “You look like shit,” Paige says as she plops into the passenger seat.

  “Gee, thanks. My day just wouldn’t be complete without you telling me that.”

  “Girl, I know you’re hurting, but you need to take care of yourself. How much weight have you lost?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Sam…”

  I fight the burning that begins in my eyes. If I start now, it’ll be a while before I’ll be able to stop, and I can’t do it at school. Not when Brad’s around. He can’t see how much he won.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” I whisper.

  And she doesn’t. As much as I love Paige, she’s never hurt like this. She can’t relate to the feeling of having my heart ripped out of my chest, stabbed a bunch of times, and then carelessly thrown back into my chest.

  Paige reaches over and tugs me into her arms. “You’ll find a way to get through this. You always do. You’re Sam Nolan.”

  I squeeze her back, but I know her words aren’t true.

  Brad’s waiting for me. I glare at him through the windshield, but he just smiles and waves.

  I grab my backpack and get out of the car. Paige and I ignore him and start walking to class.

  “Sooner or later you’re going to have to talk to me,” he says when he catches up to me.

  “Try me in a couple years.” I keep walking, not looking at him.

  He grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop. “Sammy, I’m just looking out for you. I couldn’t let that Trojan take advantage of you.”

  “He wasn’t taking advantage of me. He loved me.” It comes out before I can stop it. “What you did? It was like you were your father.”

  He flinches, but I can’t stop now. He needs to hear it.

  “I know what it’s like to get so mad you want to drink, and I know what it’s like to get so hurt you want to drink, and I know what it’s like when I see the people I love lose all of their control and turn into people they’re not. You do too.”

  Brad’s eyebrows bunch together, and he hikes his backpack on his shoulder, not saying anything.

  “I love Tyler,” I say. “Does that make you mad? Does it make you want to drink? Does it make you want to punch something?”

  His eyes flash with anger. “He played you hard,” he spits.

  “Say he did. How is that any of your business? How does that justify you beating him senseless?”

  “It completely justifies it!” he shouts, getting the attention of a few students.

  “What about me? You hurt me too.”

  “He hurt you.”

  “I’m talking physically, Brad.” I push up my sleeve and wrap my hand around my wrist. “You pulled me so hard from the truck. You pinned me. You held me back so much I was afraid the marks wouldn’t go away. Your dad does it, too. And you know it, yet you did it to me.”

  He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does it multiple times before I huff out a breath and shove past him, marching into the nearest girls’ bathroom. If he doesn’t want to say he’s sorry, then I’m not going to talk to him at all.

  As soon as the door shuts, I brace my hands on either side of the sink and try to stop my whole body from shaking, but it only gets worse when I see the sign on the wall that says ‘Skyhawks trample the Trojans!’

  I walk over to sign, tear it off the wall, and then shred it into tiny pieces.

  ***

  Lunch is the only time during the day that I consistently see Brad. Luckily, we don’t have any classes together. But now I’m walking through the lunch line and looking all around, worried he’ll want to talk more, and I’m really not in the mood for another fight.

  Nothing looks good, so I grab an apple and a red Gatorade. As soon as I sit down Paige gives me a look for my measly meal, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

  “Brad’s coming this way.” Paige nods in the direction behind me.

  I blow out a breath. “Great.”

  He sits down and places a Butterfinger in front of me. I turn to him and freeze. His eyes are red rimmed.

  “Can… can we talk?”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  “I mean later. I can pick you up, we can hang out?”

  I’m about to shake my head when I catch the redness in his eyes again. It melts the frosty edges around my exterior, like maybe he’s finally going to apologize.

  “Fine. Pick me up at seven.”

  ***

  The doorbell rings, and I grab my purse and run to get the door so Mom doesn’t have Brad come in and we get stuck here. She gets there right before I do though, and welcomes him in. Maybe she wants an apology too.

  “It’s okay, Mom. We’re just leaving.” I don’t acknowledge Brad, just walk past them both.

  The minute I get outside my breath puffs out in front of me and a snowflake lands on my nose. It takes all the strength I have not to turn right back in the house and crawl back in bed. It was snowing the night Tyler and I made love.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

  Brad opens the door for me and when he gets in he says, “Thanks for coming.”

  I nod without looking at him.

  “We’re gonna meet up with some of the guys.”

  I just watch the passing scenery. I really want to say something, but he’s the one who wanted to “talk.”

  When Brad drives into the parking lot my stomach turns, and the contents slowly come up. I swallow convulsively.

  “What are we doing here?” I shoot daggers.

  “I thought it would be fun. The guys are here.”

  “Bullshit. This is Trojan territory.”

  “Everyone needs to know what side you’re on.”

  “We don’t need to be here. I haven’t talked to Tyler at all.”

  His fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “You’ll walk in there with us, have a good time with us, showing everyone you’re a damn Skyhawk.”

  “Like hell, I will.”

  He gets out of the car and walks around it to my door. I cross my arms, planting my butt firmly in my seat, but it loosens when he says, “We’re playing against them on Friday. Come inside so we can talk, or I’ll take him down on the field.”

  I shoot my gaze at him, and after a twenty second stare down I finally relent, pushing past and into the Pizzeria. He follows close after.

  I may be here with the Skyhawks, but I am on no one’s side but my own.

  “A douche walks into a pizza joint…” Fredrickson says, nodding to the door behind me. I try to swivel in my seat, but Daniels puts a firm hand on my shoulder.

  “Not a good idea, man.”

  Damn it, I’ll just leave. It’s not like I want to be here anyway. And if they don’t want Nolan to see my beat up face or whatever shit Daniels is thinking about, I’ll take the back door.

  “Let me out,” I tell him, grabbing my Trojan jacket and chucking a greasy napkin on the table.

  “Don’t start anything. Not here, and not before the game.”

  “I’m leaving, Daniels.”

  Daniels studies my face like he’s my damn dad, then he slides from the booth. The second I catch Sam’s red hair next to
Nolan’s stupid Skyhawk jacket, my stomach falls right through the floor.

  “Koontz,” Daniels says, but it buzzes around the room instead of really reaching my brain.

  No. Hell no. She was supposed to get out of this shit. She’s not supposed to be here. She’s supposed to be home with Josh and her mom and with her friend Paige who I still haven’t met and away from this shit.

  Visions of him holding her back blur into my line of sight, and before I can move Daniels grips my elbow. “Keep your cool, bro. We have a game Friday.”

  “Who gives a sh—”

  “Coach’ll kick you off the team. Say goodbye to starting next year, too.”

  I know he’s making sense. I know I’m recovering and a fight will only make things worse. I know it and I have to force myself to care.

  Ripping from Daniels’ grip, I stalk past the Skyhawks and straight out the front door. Let the cold night air douse the flames behind my ears. I grasp at my hair, ready to tear out every strand just to get my mind focused on physical pain instead of the pain I get under my skin from seeing Sam and not being able to hug or kiss or just be with her.

  My whole life has been football. It should be like that. I want beyond high school. I want college and pro. I want all of that. Whenever Coach said not to let a girl get in the way of things, I agreed with him. I scoffed at the idea that some chick would mess me up so bad I’d forget about my life goals and dreams. But that was before Sam.

  Damn it. I’m one of those guys. I fell in love at seventeen, in high school, ready to risk every single damn thing over “a piece of ass.” But Sam isn’t a piece of ass. She’s frickin’ everything. Suddenly my life goals and dreams feel insignificant if I can’t have her in them.

  And I can’t have both.

  I look over my shoulder, watch through the window as Sam heads to the bathrooms in back. She looks pissed, holding her arm kind of in a weird way. Her eyes look kind of dark, face pale.

  Shit, if he’s laid a hand on her, that’s it. Screw football. Screw everything.

  Instead of getting in my truck and driving away—because I should do that—I sneak around back. The owner keeps the door unlocked for garbage runs, so I nudge it open and wait till I hear the restroom hallway clear out before ducking from behind the wall.

  It’s not smart. I don’t care that it’s not smart. I just gotta make sure he’s not hurting her. And then I’ll leave. I’ll stay in control and play in the game on Friday.

  Even with all that determination rolling through my head, my hand shakes a little as I knock.

  “Be out in a minute!” Sam’s voice is muffled behind the door. I know it’s awkward as hell, and she might actually be using the toilet. But I take one quick glance behind me at the Skyhawks and Trojans… and I don’t care.

  I press as close as I can to the crack in the door and keep my voice low. “Uh, Sam? It’s Tyler.”

  She doesn’t answer, and panic rolls through my chest and gut. It’s a dick move, I get it. I broke it off, and I shouldn’t even talk to her, but again, I just don’t give a freaking shit about anything at this point.

  The lock clicks and Sam pulls me through the door so fast I can’t even blink. Her breath is warm by my cheek as she reaches around me to lock us in.

  “Hi,” I say like a dumbass.

  A ghost of a smile flits across her lips. “Hi.” She steps back, butt hitting the edge of the counter.

  I know she’s not gonna say anything, but I can tell she has a ton of shit to say. Her nails click against the sink as she stares at the dripping faucet. She doesn’t look okay. If that bastard is hurting her, it’ll take my entire team and his to stop me from clocking his jaw again.

  And they have to stop me. This whole cycle of us beating on each other will never end if they don’t.

  I grab the top of my head and let out a growl. “Please tell me he hasn’t touched you.”

  Her gaze flicks from the floor to me, eyebrows pinched in the middle of her forehead. “What?”

  “Your cousin. He hasn’t touched you, right? If he laid a damn finger on you I’ll—”

  “You won’t do anything.” She crosses her arms with a small laugh. “I can take care of myself.”

  I clench my fist in my hair, resisting the urge to tear out every strand. “Did he hit you, Sam?”

  She chews on a thumbnail for a second before swinging her arm down. “No, he hasn’t hit me.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, but I’m still tangling my hair up. “Damn it, you were supposed to stay out of it, not act as some sort of leverage.”

  “Well, you were supposed to stick with me, but you didn’t.”

  My breath seizes in my throat, and I drop my hand. Her mouth snaps shut as if she didn’t mean for what she said to slide from her lips. I cautiously step toward her, but she shakes her head, holding her palm up to stop me.

  “You promised me. Right after… that night on the field. You said you’d never leave.”

  My heart runs a mile as I look in her glossy eyes, watch the twitches by the corner of her mouth, and feel the hurt and pain rolling off this armor she’s put on. She’s not wearing it because of him. She’s wearing it because of me.

  “I… Shit… Sam, listen to me.” I step forward and she’s pressed against the counter, arms still crossed. “I ended it because I wanted you out of the rivalry. I don’t want you to pick between me and your own blood. It was the right thing to do. But you can’t stick around the team when they’re doing rivalry stuff. I can’t control what happens, and damn it, I wish I could. So get out. Before you get hurt.”

  Her eyes snap to mine, and I jolt back a little from the glare. “I’m already hurt, Tyler.” She drops her arms to her sides, hands clenched in fists. “This whole thing is hurting me. You may have ended things on your side, but you don’t get it. It’s not just Brad. The whole team might leave you alone if I play along.”

  “Don’t do that. I can take care of it.”

  “I’m going to do it, Tyler. I’m still in love with your freaking ass, and I can’t see anyone hurt you again. I can’t. I won’t.”

  She’s shaking, and she grips the counter by her waist to get some stability I think. Her gaze goes over the stitches in my cheek, and a watery wall builds in her eyes.

  “Sam… I…”

  “Don’t say it,” she breathes. “Not if you’re going to leave again.”

  My reaching hand stops dead, hovering over her hip. If I touch her, I’ll be a goner, I know it.

  “I miss you,” she whispers to the ground. Her fingers twitch by my arm, and she pulls her hands together. Probably restraining herself like I am. I gulp, wishing I could tell her that I miss her too. That I love her. That she means more to me than football, and that’s a hell of a lot. But my voice won’t work. My lungs are barely functioning. The air around us thickens and moistens like Florida in the summer. I grip the counter behind her, shut my eyes and take calculated breaths. I shouldn’t. We could get caught. There’s about twenty Skyhawks out there. Twenty Trojans.

  But when I lift my eyes to hers, I don’t remember any of them. There are only two people in the world.

  My fingers slip off the edge of the counter and land against her leg. A sharp gasp flies from her full lips, and her gaze locks with mine.

  “Sam,” I manage, my voice finally making it past the lump in my throat. “I miss you too. So damn much.”

  “Then be with me.”

  “You’re with the Skyhawks.”

  She cups my face, forcing me to stay here in our own world. “My heart will always be with you.”

  Warmth swarms through my chest, and her tongue reaches out and moistens those red lips right before I crush them with mine. My grip on her ass tightens as I lift her on the counter, and blood rushes south when her legs wrap around my waist. I can’t stop my hands. They want to touch every part of her, and not just her body. I want in her heart, her soul, her mind, her spirit, everything that makes Sam who she is. I want her in everyth
ing that makes me who I am.

  Her breath is hot and moist against my mouth, and her tongue tangles desperately with mine. I invite it. I match it. I want it because all we get is right now. I don’t want to think about tomorrow or even tonight. We both know once we leave this room, we’re leaving each other again. It’s the right thing to do… but it sucks. I don’t want it to be right.

  “Stop thinking about it,” she says between breaths.

  My lips press against hers softer this time. I cradle her face and keep her locked there, memorizing her taste, the cracks in her lips, the smell of her cheeks. She should probably head back out. She’s been gone too long. I know that. But I can’t stop this kiss.

  I feel her nails on my stomach, over my sides, then up my back. It’s so good that my mouth starts doing its own thing, pressing harder against hers. My hands get rough again, and I love that Sam isn’t breakable. She’s tough, she matches me, hell… she’s stronger than I am, and her grip tightens so much a sharp pain shoots up my ribs. A hiss slips through my teeth, into her mouth and her hands freeze under my shirt.

  Her brown eyes meet mine briefly, her plump lips part slightly as her gaze travels down my torso. A small hitch in her breath causes my heart to thump unevenly when she lifts the bottom of my shirt.

  Tears build in her eyes. I can’t stand to see them there so I go to tug my shirt back down, but she forces it to stay up. She traces the bruising so lightly I’m starting to get revved up again, but I know better than to make a move with the pain etched in her face.

  “This is not okay.” Her voice is wet. “This is why I can’t just walk away. If someone did this to you again I couldn’t—”

  “Stop worrying about me,” I growl, shoving my shirt down.

  “You think it’s that easy?”

  No. “Yeah.”

  She shakes her head, tucking a piece of her deep red hair behind her ear. “So you’re allowed to end things to protect me, but I’m not allowed to do whatever I can to protect you?”

  Damn it, I don’t want to argue. I take a step back, run a hand through my hair, and try to keep my voice calm.

  “No matter what I say, you’re going to walk right back to your cousin and the team, aren’t you?”