I’m sorry.
Forgive me.
Angel.
Tears poured down my face as I crumbled the letter between my fingertips. Angel, as I suspected, was broken. He had been kicked while he was down. And now, he could well be unfixable. Angel’s father was a vile and disgusting person, hurting the people he was supposed to love. He had shattered the world of a child and then terrorized the world when his son was an adult.
I could feel my stomach rolling with the sudden need to vomit. Angel’s father had raped his mother. He was a child conceived through a maze of love and hate. Love from his mother who would protect him, love him unconditionally, no matter how he was created. But hated by the man who didn’t deserve to be called his father.
Suddenly, the bile moved from my stomach, and I had to throw my hand over my mouth to stop it from escaping. Throwing the letter, I leapt from the bed and dashed to the en-suite bathroom. Throwing myself down on my knees, I quickly lost the contents of my stomach into the bowl. Maybe even some of my hatred for Angel.
Chapter Thirteen
Logan
“Get your head in the game, White!” Coach shouted from the sidelines.
Get my head in the game? Was he fucking serious? Some days I couldn’t even tell you where the hell my head was.
Coach had been on my ass. My game was off, I was late for practice and the guys felt let down because we were turning to shit. I’ve tried, I really have, but my mind was elsewhere. It’s with her, I am always thinking of her. Even now. I'm a sweaty mess because Coach was so pissed that he told me to drop and give him twenty. Shit.
I used to work out daily, but I hadn’t had the damn energy to get myself out of bed in the mornings. I had been missing games, practices and meets. I hadn’t got it in me to run around a fucking field with a damn football in my hands, when it should be her in my hands. Everything was so fucked up.
“White!! What the hell was that?!” Coach bellowed.
What? What the hell did I miss? Turning, I realized my head is so far up my own ass that I missed the play. Shit. Coach was going to bench me, and soon. But right now, I really couldn’t care less. People had the misconception that I wanted to go pro. I really fucking didn’t. If I went pro, that meant leaving this place. It meant leaving her. I already left her once, I wouldn’t be doing it again.
“Sorry, Coach,” I mumbled.
Christ, it’s too damn hot today. The sun was at its highest point, and no matter how much Gatorade I drank, I was still dehydrated as hell.
“Christ! Okay, guys, hit the showers!” Coach shouted. Slowly turning, he pointed his finger at me. “White. A word?”
Looking around, I saw the guys make their way to the locker room to hit the showers. Shit, this couldn’t be good.
“'Sup, Coach?” I said, trying to lighten the mood, but failing miserably.
“'Sup?' Seriously, Logan? Where the hell is your head at? We have a game on Saturday, and if you keep prancing around the damn field like that, I’m going to have to bench you! Get your head out of your god damn ass, it’s not a hat!”
I stood there stunned for a couple of seconds. Yeah, when I said Coach was on my ass, I meant it. Jesus.
“I’ve got some things on my mind, Coach. It won’t happen again,” I muttered.
“Good. I’d hate to see you let your team down over some piece of ass.”
My blood ran cold. Some piece of ass? Who the fuck does he think he is? Coach’s eyes widened in surprise as I took a step towards him, standing nose to nose with him. I wouldn’t take this shit from my best friend, and I certainly wouldn’t take it from a balding, overweight coach.
“What did you just say?” I said, my voice hard and clear.
He leaned away from me, trying to put some distance between us. I kept my glare as his eyes darted around us, trying to look for some sort of help. But help wasn’t coming. I’m sick of people questioning her, questioning me.
“Dude, what the fuck?”
I could hear Ace’s voice behind me, but I’m not listening. People needed to understand that I didn’t fuck around when it came to her. There was nothing I wouldn’t do just to protect her, even if that meant kicking my coach’s ass up and down the damn field.
“If I hear you vomit any more of that vile shit from that hole in your damn face, I will start using you as my own personal football,” I sneered, moving closer to his face. “Am I clear?”
A small smile crept across my face as Coach nodded in understanding. I could feel Ace’s hand gripping my shoulder, a little too tight for my damn liking. I shrugged Ace off. Satisfied I had made myself clear, I turned and walked away.
“You’re off the team, White,” I heard Coach nervously shout.
I laughed. I actually laughed, but the sarcasm drips from every single cackle that leaves my lips.
“Coach, stick it up your god damn ass. It might make for a good hat.”
I smiled maliciously as I watched his shocked reaction. Good. No one talks about her like that. No one. I stopped in my tracks as the realization hits me. I am protecting her again. I didn’t have it in me to stop. I had been doing it for so long it’s become a reflex, something I had no control over.
“Fuck,” I whispered, raking my hands through my hair and tugging hard.
“That about sums it up,” Ace muttered, walking beside me.
I laughed and shook my head as I moved into a slow stride beside him. We walked for a couple of minutes in dead silence. I kept my gaze to the ground, I didn’t need a lecture from Ace and I knew it’s coming whether I liked it or not.
“So …” Yeah, here it comes. “What did Coach say for you to go all nuclear-dick-head and get kicked off of the team?”
Nuclear-dick-head? How many Red Bulls has he drank today? I laughed, unsure what the hell to say.
“He went too far,” I muttered. I wasn’t about to tell him that Coach referred to Neva as ‘some piece of ass.’ Otherwise Coach wouldn’t be standing on two feet.
Ace was an underground cage fighter with the fastest fists in the underground circuit. No one messed with him, not if they had brains, anyway. He was the only one of our group that wasn’t on the football team. Standing at a good six feet, he was a monster. His frame was fucking huge and he could probably knock down a damn house if he wanted to.
“Well, dick weed, you lost your spot on the team. What about all the scouts that have been sniffing around?” Ace chuckled. The idea of people coming to football games to find new talent clearly amused him.
“They can go and sniff somewhere else. I have never wanted to go pro, man. I did it because, well, shit, isn’t it what you’re supposed to do in college? Play football, party and meet chicks?”
“Dude, you’re asking someone who punches people in the face for a living. I don’t know shit.” He laughed.
We walked from the field and back on campus. I’m exhausted. My stomach growled as we neared the dorms. Christ, when did I last eat? For the past month I had been in the routine of getting up, going to class, going back to bed. It’s the times I'm alone that were the worst. My mind conjured stupid shit, mostly about Neva. Sometimes I sat back on my bed and imagined us together again, what it would feel like just to be in her presence. I missed her.
“Listen, do you want to come to my place and chill out with some beers?” Ace asked as we made it to my building.
What I really wanted to do was take a shower and crawl into my bed. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with a house full of people I didn’t know, and chicks trying to shove their barely there tits in my face. I’m too exhausted.
“Tate and Asshat One and Two will be there. No party. Just a chilled out night.” he said with a smile.
“Dude, that sounds as good as taking a hammer to my cock.” I laughed.
Tate and I hadn’t been the same since our argument, and the twins, as funny as they are, can drive me fucking crazy. I've known the guys since fifth grade, expect Ace, all of them as crazy then as they are now. Ta
te was the quiet one, he kept mostly to himself, but he was my best friend. Zane and Colt? Jesus, they caused trouble anywhere they went. They were identical twins, and when I say identical, I really mean it. Most people can’t tell them apart, much to their own amusement. And Ace? He was the tall, bulky one who would scare most of the other kids, sometimes even the teachers.
“Look, I have kept my mouth shut for most of this, man. I know what she means to you, Logan. I may take a couple of blows to the head every week, but I’m not fucking blind. I get it. You walked away from the woman you love, and now you don’t know which way is up. Trust me, I get it more than you know. I know why you did it, but you need to live too. You need to heal just as much as she does. Life isn’t all farting puppies and rainbows, it’s hard. But it will be even harder if you don’t suck it up. You will help her more if you are strong.”
And… I’m speechless.
Ace’s eyes are hard and fixed on mine, but I could see emotion lying in them. He gets it. The words he had spoken rang truth to my ears. I need to suck it up, I’m not going to do her any good by moping around like some lost puppy. There was no denying that I missed her, damn, I miss her so much. But Ace was right, I needed to be strong for her.
“Thanks, man,” I said, slapping Ace on his shoulder.
“Ouch.” He laughed, mocking me as he rubbed the shoulder I hit. “You, me and the guys. My place. 8pm.”
He watched as I tried to convince myself that I should go. Neva’s words suddenly flashed through my mind.
‘I need to keep you safe, from me.’
I needed to let her heal.
“8pm.” I smiled.
“Good.” He laughed, turning and walking away. “You still hit like a bitch, White!”
I laughed as I walked into the building, making my way up to my dorm room. These past couple of months have been damn heavy. I had been so focused on trying to help Neva heal, I hadn’t focused on me. I was lost. I had been in love with my best friend’s sister for ten years, a woman who deserved to be treated like a queen, but had been treated like glass. She was fragile, but strong. Quiet, but loud. Broken, but she is fixable. She is the woman who tore my heart out, but is the one who holds it in her hands. I love her, and it’s about damn time I showed her just how damn much.
Chapter Fourteen
Neva
My head hurt. I could feel the low throb as I pried open my eyes. Light suddenly blinded me, and I instinctively closed my eyes again. I moved my hand to my head, moving the hair stuck to my face. I could feel a hard surface against my back, it was cold. Moving my palm, I reached down and felt the cold, smooth tile beneath me. Okay, I was on the floor. Opening my eyes again, I squinted as the light above me shined so bright against my delicate vision.
I looked around me, and clearly I was in my bathroom. I must have passed out after I threw up so much. Then I remembered the letter. Slowly, I pulled myself up to my feet, using the sink for support. Once I finally regained my balance, I made my way to my bed. At first, the letter was nowhere to be seen. Then, thankfully, I spotted it on the floor, its edge poking out from underneath my bed. Still feeling groggy, I sat down on the bed and found the envelope. I couldn’t read the letter again, it’s too painful.
Angel had clearly gone through hell, his father chipping away at him. Little by little, his dad broke him, completely tore him apart.
I gently picked up the envelope sitting in the middle of my bed, noticing a small note tucked away inside. I gasped. I didn’t know if I could read anything else about that man, I didn’t know if I could read the clear torture he was put through to get to me. Instead of putting the letter back into the envelope, I pulled out the smaller note instead.
You’re probably wondering why I left you Betty Black.
I can’t tell you how many times I longed to hear you sing again, to hear you play again. Your voice is soft and pure, but filled with pain and hurt. It’s beautiful and you should use it.
I’m giving you Betty Black because you deserve a guitar that understands you. Betty has been through some rough times with me, she has sat quietly on my lap while I played the cords until my fingers bled. She understands pain, she understands hurt, she understands betrayal.
I can’t apologize enough for what I did, and I just hope, maybe someday, I will hear you play and sing once again. Play her like she's your own, because now she is.
I love you.
Angel.
At some point while I was reading, my hand had covered my mouth. Angel had given me Betty Black, the guitar that was given to him by his mom when he was just a child. I couldn’t understand why he gave it to me, he loved that guitar.
Suddenly my phone chimed, alerting me to a text. I wiped my eyes quickly, and walked over to my dresser. Picking up my phone, I slid my finger across the screen to reveal a text from Low.
I miss you, coffee? x
Something was wrong. Low is the happy one, the one who's always positive. This was not a positive Low. Something was going on and I had been so wrapped up within my own shit I hadn't even noticed. I'm such a shitty friend.
I needed to find out what the hell was going on with my best friend. Grabbing my leather jacket, I slipped on my Chucks and head out the door. The coffee shop wasn’t far from campus or my mom’s house. It takes twenty minutes to walk there, but after ten, my hands had already started shaking. What if she brings up Angel? Or worse, Logan. I didn’t think I could talk about it yet. Dr. Marsh had been trying to get it out of me a couple times now, but I'm just not ready.
Rounding the corner, I spotted the coffee shop. It’s the same one I met Angel at all those months ago. Visions of us sitting outside under the sun sharing a heated kiss flashed before my eyes; I could feel the tears building. No, I couldn’t think about it, couldn’t think about him. Taking a deep breath, I made my way inside.
It’s just like it was when I was here last, small and beautiful. The smell of coffee filled my lungs and I almost wretched. He tasted like coffee. I quickly threw my hand over my mouth, trying to stop the bile from rising. I tried to suck air into my lungs but I kept smelling coffee. I needed to get out of here.
“Neva?” Low’s soft voice penetrated my anxiety.
Turning to her, I watched as her eyes widen. I could see the shock register on her face as I tried to hold down the bile that was quickly rising to the surface. If I didn’t get out of here now, I would throw up on the damn floor.
“Air. I need air,” I said, my hand muffling my words.
Low quickly sprang into action and threw her arm around my waist, guiding me out of the coffee shop and to the middle of the sidewalk. Air. I sucked it in hard, trying to fill my lungs with as much as they could take. A tear escaped from my eye as I pulled in every breath. Jesus, it felt good to breathe.
“Jesus. Are you okay?” Low asked as I bend over, placing my hands on my knees.
My head was all over the place. Flashes of Angel’s eyes penetrated my mind, tearing through my soul and breaking my heart more. He had fucking tricked me, and now I couldn’t walk into a damn coffee shop without thinking of him. Then I remembered the broken expression on his face as his father all but suffocated him. Everything was so damn fucked up. The words from his letter gutted me, but the betrayal sliced me right open.
“I … I’m fine,” I said with a shaky breath.
Standing upright, I looked Low in the eyes. She was looking at me like I had a damn disease she could catch any moment. Jesus, did everyone look at me like this? I was finally starting to see just how much I was treated like porcelain: fragile and weak. And I was sick of it.
“Low, stop looking at me like I'm about to fucking fall apart. I am fine,” I said with determination.
She put her hands up in surrender, clearly confused. I knew something like this would happen. I was here to find out what the hell was wrong with her, and now she was studying me and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. Placing my hands on my hips, I smiled. It didn’t quit
e reach my eyes, but it'd have to do. I needed my game face on for this.
“Can we go somewhere that doesn’t make me want to vomit?” I said, trying on a laugh.
“Sure. Where do you want to go?” she asked.
“Ugh. Let’s just go to my mom’s. Everyone sells coffee, and it's just making me want to throw up.”
We walked in relative silence back to my mom’s house. Something was definitely eating at her, and it was driving me crazy not knowing.
“Low, what’s wrong?” I asked, stopping mid-stride.
The seriousness in my voice stopped her walking. She turned, looking like a deer in headlights. What the hell was going on with her? I took in her appearance; she looked exhausted. Her hair wasn't styled into the perfect long, blonde waves like usual. Instead, it's piled high on her head in a messy bun. Her makeup was barely visible and she looked as though she hadn’t slept in weeks.
“I’m fine. It’s just … shit, I feel so damn guilty,” she whispered.
She didn’t look at me. Not because she won’t, it’s because she can’t. What the hell did she feel guilty about? She didn’t do this to me.
“Why do you feel guilty? You have nothing to be guilty about.”
“I pushed you onto Angel because I thought Logan was a douche-bag-man-whore who couldn’t keep it in his pants. I’m so sorry.”
Suddenly she was sobbing, tears rolling from her eyes as if the flood gates had opened. What the hell? She thinks this is her fault? Oh god. I wrapped my arms around her and we fell to the ground. Pulling her knees up, she folded into me like a child.
“Hey, shh. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault,” I said over and over again.
We sat there for at least an hour. I held onto her tightly, just so she understood I was right there with her. Her tears long since stopped, but her body still shook and she was hiccupping with sobs. My own tears fell. I was hurting for my best friend, who thought all this mess was her fault. It’s a vicious circle. My own god damn demons were still hurting people, and I couldn’t take it.
Finding Me (Bad Boy #2) Page 9