The End Game

by Kate McCarthy

  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 la
te 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?

  Brody

  When I get home Jax is spread out on the sofa wearing last night’s clothes. He looks a little rough around the edges, though I’m sure I look worse.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  “My father,” I say, my voice flat.

  Jax pulls himself to a sitting position, his jaw ticking. I get in first before he can ask questions. “How was the chain gang?”

  “Oh, it was the best.” He shifts sideways and stares hard at my face. “I almost became Big John’s bitch¸ and I made friends with the local roaches. The mattress smelled like a rotting corpse and the tap water tasted like piss. And because of your father, I have no criminal record to show for any of it.”

  “Ripped off,” I joke and chuckle, which causes my ribs to throb like a bass drum. With a groan, I sink to the sofa and meet Jaxon’s eyes. “You know, when you said you’d take care of everything, I didn’t mean for you to throw yourself down and sacrifice your butt virginity to Big John.”

  Jax huffs a short laugh and shakes his head. “Well after all that he didn’t ask me out, so I guess I’m feeling a little let down.” He looks at me with an expression of mock hope. “Maybe he’ll call later.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That he didn’t call?”

  “Yeah. Maybe he has a brother.”

  “Little John?”

  I laugh and it sends a stabbing pain down my left side. I suck in a sharp breath. My father had followed up his slap to my face with a sharp jab to my ribs after I’d shoved him away.

  “Hell.” Jaxon reaches across and yanks my arm away, revealing my swollen torso. All the previous amusement slides from his face. “Bud, that looks painful. You need a hospital?”

  “No hospital.”

  “You should go anyway,” he argues, already up and heading for my room. I follow behind. He opens my dresser drawer, pulling out a tee shirt and sweatpants. “We can go in the back entrance. No one will even know you’re there.” Jax dumps the clothes on my bed and reaches for my arm. “At the least they can give you some strong drugs for the pain.”

  Drugs for the pain. Why didn’t I think of that? I tug the clothes on, slow as an old man.

  “Shit, Brody. You can’t play like this. Can you play like this?”

  “Sure I can. It happens all the time. Tony Romo played through a broken rib and punctured lung.”

  “Jesus you guys are fucking crazy. You want me to call Jordan?”

  My stomach clenches into a tight, hot ball of misery. “No.”

  His brows rise. “No?”

  “She’s gone, Jax.”

  “Gone?”

  Giving him my back, I pick up my phone. It’s been on silent and a pile of missed calls and messages from my coach glare back at me from the screen. I’m not sure what excuse to give him for missing training today, but whatever it is, I know it has to be damn good. Tucking it in my pocket, I swallow the huge lump in my throat and answer Jax. “Yeah. You know, the soccer finals in Florida. She’ll be gone a week.”

  “Oh right. For a minute I thought you guys were off again.”

  I don’t answer because I can’t. I don’t know what the hell we are right now. I keep fucking it up, and I don’t know how to stop.

  “You want to tell me what your father was pissed about this time?” Jaxon asks when we’re in the car and speeding toward the hospital.

  “Me breathing,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Davis, right?” Jax shakes his head, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “That dick needs to drop off the face of the earth.”

  The next day in training my rib is strapped tight as a damn corset, and I’m flying high on Percocet. Two pills instead of one takes me to cloud nine. It’s nothing like Adderall. The pain meds dull my senses, but man is it beautiful coasting up there in the sky. Nothing hurts. Nothing matters. Even my battered heart stops bleedi
ng. It’s just me, the ball, and an endless field of green. Beautiful.

  I don’t even have to come up with an excuse for my absence yesterday. Coach Carson spoke to my dad, who told him I was involved in a minor car accident. Coach had the hospital records faxed to the team doctor, who checked me over himself. His face was all skepticism, but he kept silent. They want these championships as much as the team does. On the day of our game, I’m injected with a high dose painkiller and sent out on the field with a slap on the back. I play high as a kite. I play rough. I play like a man with nothing left to lose.

  We win but for the first time ever I can’t summon any joy. The slaps on the back, the celebratory hugs, and the wide grins are all forced. I limp off the field a broken man. It’s the highest point of my football career, and the lowest I’ve ever felt. It scares me when I start questioning why I’m doing this at all. But what would I do without it?

  Later that night we celebrate at the bar. It’s loud and rowdy, and girls cover every single surface. Their makeup is bright, their dresses short and body-hugging. They keep grabbing my hands and trying to shove them up their skirts. I used to think it was hot to be wanted this way, but now it just makes me sad. I don’t want anything to do with any of them. I just want to drink. I want oblivion for a while.

  I’m four beers in when Jordan rings. I get up quickly, pushing through people to get outside. The air is ice cold, and my breath puffs out in white clouds when I answer. “Jordan?”

  “Brody.”

  All it takes is her speaking my name and a rush of calm washes over me. A smile forms on my face. Hugging my body, I lean up against the outside wall of the building, keeping my head down low to avoid unwanted attention. “Hey you.”

  When she replies, her voice is soft and low and brings goose bumps to my skin. “Hey yourself. I just …” She pauses for a moment and then exhales a shaky breath. She’s nervous, like she doesn’t know what to say. “Congratulations on your win today.”