Pain & Redemption

by Kat Kenyon

  “What the hell was that!”

  The troupe streams by me and I’m slammed in the shoulder as the last dancer gets off stage.

  “Don’t. Just don’t,” Marcus says, coming up behind me. His harsh breathing blows across my hair as his hands gently cup each shoulder, rubbing twice. “She was fucking amazing out there.”

  “She was crying on stage!” Katie. It’s always Katie trying to rub salt in.

  “Yeah. And?” Marcus runs a hand down my arm to steady me.

  “Crying? Seriously!” Her glare is focused on Marcus’s hands, her jealousy so rancid I want to throw up and laugh.

  Drenched in sweat, Marcus looks like he wants to take a bite out of someone, feral and pissed. I’ve never seen him like this.

  “Yes, emotion in art.” Coming to my side, he wraps his arm around my shoulder. “I’d book that performance in a heartbeat. It’s a hell of a lot better than a fucking robot.”

  “Marcus!” The tone of her voice changes, and it clearly isn’t about my performance.

  I don’t like being the cause of this. I shouldn’t have cried, and I know it. I start to open my mouth to apologize, but Marcus shakes his head, his bright blue eyes hard. Turning his glare back at Katie and her three friends standing in a plastic cluster, he steps in front of me, blocking me from their line of sight.

  “Don’t be such a bitch. She was amazing. Dancing with passion isn’t a crime, and it didn’t take a damn thing away from our performance. That crowd came with us because they came with her. So, cut the melodrama. It’s cliché.”

  Cliché. He couldn’t have picked a bigger insult, especially defending me. A chill settles across the troupe as they watch the car wreck that is Katie and Marcus braced against each other, no one saying anything while the two of them go at each other again. They watch us, waiting to see which one bursts into flames first, and it’s suffocating.

  Silent moments pass with me holding my breath, hoping this will be over. I want to fit in with these people, and yet I’m the source of so much conflict.

  “I’m—”

  My apology is again cut off by Marcus. “There is nothing for you to apologize for. You were amazing.” Pulling my head to whisper in my ear, Marcus’s voice is rough, and filled with the adrenaline of the performance and indignation. “Ray Ray, go. Get ready for the meet and greet.”

  Whatever is going on between him and Katie isn’t really about me, and I don’t want to be a part of it. The confrontation between them is ugly, and my presence just makes it worse. Nodding at him and the rest of the Satellites, I put one foot in front of the other, with her rage at my back.

  The walk down to the dressing room cools me down, the heat from the last thirty minutes fading, and leaves me shivering and tear-stained as I pass other performers.

  Opening the women’s door, I release a burst of air when I see it’s empty. A quick clean-up and fixing of my face help me put myself back together.

  My skin is rubbed raw from my zero-to-sixty shower, and when I look in the mirror, my cheeks are hollowed out, and my eyes are stormy.

  I don’t want this first performance to end this way. I’m not going to let this destroy my night. I notice my clenched and determined jaw.

  You are strong enough.

  I nod at myself. I have people to see. People who came to see me. The team made the effort to come and I owe them for their loyalty, even while I’ve retreated. They made an effort and so will I. People break up all the time, and they’re trying to show they’re still my friends too.

  I’m stronger than Emily. This is just a breakup. You’re fine. I won’t break.

  Hoisting my bag up, I make it out as the first of my troupe start trickling in, casting side-eyed looks of concern and consternation as we pass each other.

  With each step I remind myself again, you’re fine, and that the performances are nearly over, which means the lobby will be flooded with people soon.

  You may not even see him.

  The shuffle of my feet on the marble as I hit the main floor is the only sound until I reach the end of the hallway. Through the open double doors, angry voices echo through the lobby, reverberating with danger. They aren’t just any voices. Angel and demon. My heaven and hell, competing forces that seem to slow and stretch out the last few steps.

  “Stay the fuck away from her!” Tyler’s voice is a rumble of thunder crackling.

  He’s shattering, but he’s a welcome force of nature against the voice that has haunted my nightmares since before I started college. I didn’t want to see either of them, but Tyler’s still the one I want. I could never hate him.

  “She isn’t yours anymore, she walked!” The dangerous possessiveness in Gabe’s voice sends uncontrollable shivers down my spine.

  “Yeah, she did. The difference is, I’m not beating her up over it. I would never hurt her.” Ty’s growl is accompanied by the sound of shoes on concrete, huffing and grunting, and the sound of aggression echoing in the empty lobby annex.

  My bag slips from my fingers as I run, rounding the corner into the secondary lobby annex.

  The wide span of Ty’s shoulders blocks Gabe as he presses him against the wall. Giant legs spread and braced through the floor, forearm crossed and crushing Gabe’s throat, he has Gabe trapped. He’s so much bigger and powerful. And he’s angry, like an avenging angel.

  My angel.

  No…not mine.

  He’s not mine, and even as he defends me, Gabe doesn’t let me forget it either, taunting us both. “Yeah, right. You wouldn’t hurt her.” Gabe’s voice is strangled as he spits venom, struggling to break Ty’s hold. “That’s why you banged your way through half the girls at Dixon? You just couldn’t wait for Rayne to give it up, right? You had to keep gettin’ yours, right? Fuck you! You wouldn’t know what to do with her.”

  Ty’s body shoves harder, forcing Gabe to reach for his throat as Ty leans into Gabe’s ear. A whisper. An instant…and Gabe’s face darkens. Violence writhes between them as Gabe tries to take swing after swing, but can’t get free, can’t breathe. With an explosion of power, Ty starts to crush Gabe’s windpipe, his face turning purple.

  I can’t let this happen.

  Ty will lose everything he's worked for over me. Snatching my phone, my fingers fly. I text Bay, then text everyone here, to save Ty from himself.

  Even as the last message goes, I rush them, coming to a stop a mere two feet away, scared one of them will turn on me.

  “Stop!”

  Two sets of eyes snap my direction. Blue eyes narrow when they see me, and hazel turn soft, hurt, with longing even as he presses against Gabe.

  “Ty.” On its own, my hand stretches out.

  “Why the fuck are you talking to him? He’s nothing to us!” Gabe can barely talk, but his anger speaks volumes.

  “What are you doing here?” I yell at him, my heart beating so fast it feels like I’m going to pass out. “You aren’t supposed to be anywhere near me. I have a restraining order!”

  Ty’s jaw hardens. He pushes hard against Gabe’s airway, causing him to gurgle. “Come near her again, and I’ll destroy you.”

  I feel the threat thickening the air as he and I stare at one another. He finally steps back, releasing Gabe, allowing the color to return to his face, but we stay staring at each other. His eyes flick over to the open hall where I can hear someone coming.

  Gabe’s jaw sets as he looks between the two of us. “Don’t worry, I’m outta here!”

  Bolting out the door before the cavalry arrives, he escapes right before Dylan and Tegs rush into the room.

  Ty and I just stare, him searching my face, hand barely raised to me.

  “Baby—”

  “Don’t.” My voice breaks on the word. I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I can’t start with him.

  I’m not my mother. Emily, so desperate to believe men loved her she let them lie. So desperate to believe the fake apologies, she let them abuse us both.

  I can’t beli
eve his words instead of his actions, and his actions said he didn’t love me. I know I’ll fall into him if I’m anywhere near him. So, I turn away and run…I’ll stay as far away from him as I can because one thing sits in my heart like the best and worst parts of an anchor: he came.

  He came.

  Chapter Nine

  Tyler Blackman

  My team got me drunk after my run-in with Gabe.

  As soon as they showed her some love, they sat with me as I drank myself blind. They knew why I was there and patted me on the back for stepping between him and Rayne.

  I woke up with a tongue that feels like sandpaper used as toilet paper. I’m sure the alcohol is still poisoning my system, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as sitting in Western Civilization class watching her sit in the front with Bay, Hatch, and Matty, hoping for a glimpse of crystal blue eyes.

  She still won’t look at me, let alone talk to me. Watching from my seat in the back is an act of self-punishment and I can’t stop. I take my medicine like a good boy. I know I deserve it. I love her anyway. It just sucks worse because she looks sad.

  No, that’s not true. Sad doesn’t begin to describe it. She looks as broken today as she did in October. I know it’s not acceptable but haunted as I feel it gives me a sliver of hope. It means she still hurts like I do. That she misses me like I miss her. These weeks without her have felt like years.

  Does it feel like that for you? It looks like it from here.

  “You coming out tonight?”

  I missed the end of class and Mike is rising beside me. Kevin is frowning at me while he drapes over the chair in front of me.

  “What?”

  Mike shakes his head. “Ty, grab your shit, class is over.”

  Kevin grabs his stuff and turns back to me, asking again, “So, are you coming?”

  Rolling my eyes, I cram my shit into my bag. I haven’t been going out to party. My drinking has been restricted to the football house and even then, only with people I trust to keep shit square. I won’t be drinking with people who aren’t going to keep things within bounds.

  “Are you coming to the party or what?” Wyatt asks, a dare lingering in the air.

  Ignoring him, I shrug on my hoodie and catch her gathering her things. I wish I could go down and talk to her, but I know there’s nothing I can say.

  “Brah, you can’t keep avoiding.” Wyatt’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard and reminds me he still deserves a fucking beatdown. We don’t talk and this is the reason. The only thing holding me back is, I want to stay on the damn team.

  The first time I slept in our dorm room was a week ago, and I still stay out most of the day, because I can only stand to be around him in small doses, so his tone is a dangerous one to use with me.

  I’m not your fucking brah, bro, or anything else, bitch!

  “And what the fuck am I supposed to do there?”

  I sling my bag over my shoulder as I watch Rayne and Bay rush out the doors. She’s still running from me. She’s talking to everyone else again, but only if I’m not around.

  “Do what you always did!” Wyatt snaps, breaking into my last image of her for the day. “Drink, Cyborg. You’re a fucking star, right? Have a good time, find a new girl.” Wyatt points to the door where Rayne disappeared, and the jersey chasers wait. “She’s not around anymore. You need to get back into a groove.”

  “Shut up!” It would be bad for anyone to go there, but this fucker is suicidal.

  “Come on, man. When did you—”

  “Don’t, Wyatt. Drop it.” Mike holds up his hand at him even as a drum beat starts in my head.

  This lazy son of a bitch put Shay in our room, now he wants to play cheerleader to my player image. After riding my coattails at the beginning of the year, here he is pretending like I didn’t smash his face.

  “You need—”

  “You don’t know what the fuck I need!” Blood rushes in my brain, drowning out the sound of the room.

  Big arms wrap around me, stopping my forward momentum. Rage lives under the surface of my skin, powering my muscle, pain pumping my blood.

  Even though I’m still working with the therapist, I don’t have anything under control, and her answers are always about working things through with my dad. She doesn’t want to talk about Rayne or why I’m lost. She misses the core of my pain, and this fucker has poked me right where he shouldn’t.

  “Ty.” Mike pulls his head back and tries to look me in the eye, but I continue trying to skewer Wyatt with my eyes alone. I don’t want to connect.

  All my connections are garbage and fake. They always have been. Until I met Rayne, and I treated her like shit. I want to hurt someone and make them feel as shitty as I do, and since the dumbfuck won’t close his piehole or stop bouncing on his feet, he’ll do.

  “You know what I need?” My voice is iron dragging over gravel. It hurts to talk. “I need Rayne and I don’t know how to get her to talk to me. I need her to see I’m not the same. I don’t need a fucking placeholder. But you wouldn’t understand that ’cause you’re too busy pretending to be someone you’re not.”

  Wyatt’s face twists and turns purple as he spews crap. “You sayin’ I’m fake? That’s a load of shit, man, she changed you. You don’t hang out anymore, man!”

  “We were roommates, not friends.” I sneer at the idea we were tight. “I’m a construction major with finals coming. Without Rayne, I’ve got no help. They’re on me. As far as girls…”

  My eyes close and memories of her skin on mine, her voice in the dark, her hair in the sunlight. Then her tears and her telling me we were done. “I only want one. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but it hasn’t been long enough for me.”

  He snorts, practically rolling his eyes. “She’s just a fucking girl. Get over it, you’re acting whipped. I thought you were the man.”

  Red tints the edges of my sight as I lunge. The hulk protecting him almost goes over the seats behind him.

  “Ty! Ty, man, he’s not worth it.” Mike shoves hard and when that doesn’t work, he plants a fist in my kidney. “Kevin, get him out of here.”

  “Time to go, douchebag.” Kevin’s fist grabs his collar and pushes him hard enough to make him stumble.

  “I’m not worth it?” Wyatt tries to stand his ground even as he has to reach for his things. “Why is this my fault that he can’t handle—”

  “Gilipollas!” Kevin huffs under his breath, pushing harder on Wyatt.

  “You’re talking about our friend too,” Mike says over his shoulder, “and if I let him go you’re gonna be roadkill. Now go!”

  Wyatt huffs and lets Kevin push him out of the aisle and part way down the ramp before he spins and fires back. “I’m not the one who got my dick sucked, you did that.”

  His nasty grin is one I’ve seen before, and it earns him a smack in the back of the head by the big lineman who practically growls at him.

  “I’m aware,” I sneer. Mike’s grip tightens even as my voice smooths out, bracing for me to rush for a shot, but I’ll own my fucking mistakes. And remind him of his. “I’m also aware you let Shay into our fucking room. Why’d you do that? You never did say.”

  We never did finish our fight, and there will be payback. He grits his teeth and looks away.

  “Huh, no, then you know what else I need? I need a roommate who isn’t a punk bitch. Whatever problem you have with me, why don’t you just come on and get it all out there?”

  I know Wyatt doesn’t have the balls to do shit.

  “Fuck you, man, don’t blame your shit on me.” The douchebag feels brave with two men and ten feet between us. “It isn’t my fault she doesn’t want you anymore!”

  “Son of a bitch.” Kevin grabs him by the scruff of the neck again and bulldozes him out the door, and I want to pound him, but Mike doesn’t let me leave until Wyatt and Kevin are gone.

  “You okay?”

  “No.”

  “You can’t kill him.” Mike reaches for his bag and
finally walks out of the aisle and onto the ramp.

  “No. At least not yet.”

  A dark chuckle rises from the Warriors’ official anger-management problem. “Wait until they ask him to block on you in practice. Then you can just finish him by stepping on an organ. It’ll be an accident and it’ll rid us all of the little shit stain.”

  “That bitchy priss will never make it into rotation for me.” I wish he would.

  He’s wrong though. I don’t blame him for her not talking to me. I blame him for interfering and being a two-faced bastard. I don’t trust him.

  As for the rest, it’s hard enough knowing I’ve really lost her. It makes everything else feel impossible. Even if it’s over for her, it isn’t over for me.

  Chapter Ten

  Rayne Mathews

  “How is he not expelled?”

  The shared living space of Tate’s and my dorm is overflowing with overworked muscle and testosterone. In the middle of a sea of shock and rage, Tate’s pacing and venting imaginary fire after word came back that Gabe was being allowed to stay after violating the rule to stay away from me. Not paying attention, she spins around and kicks, accidentally hitting the table. At least I think it was an accident.

  A muffled screech starts as she grabs for her toe. She struggles to stand on one leg, her cries declining to a whined cursing at the world. “I hate every-motherfucking-one!”

  Her indignation makes me start giggling. It’s impossible to watch her without laughing, and as the guys join in, a death glare from her eyes attempts to annihilate us even as Tegs pulls her into his lap, his face struggling to avoid laughing at his girlfriend. Normally, I think he would, taking the explosion of her temper with joy, but he doesn’t do it now. Instead, he tries to calm her down.

  Vibrating even in the arms of a Clydesdale-sized wrestler, her blue eyes tear up, meeting my eyes. “How can they let him stay?” she asks again.