Page 110 of I'm Gonna Get You Back
“Who else would Amaya protect?” she asks.
Protect.
That’s when the drunken memory hits me. The last thing Nicole said to me before I passed out last night.
You can trust me,she breathed in my ear.If it hadn’t been for me, Amaya wouldn’t know what kind of guy Josh is, and you wouldn’t know what kind of girl Clara is. I’ll do anything to protect my friends, Reid.
“Amaya lied about him sitting with her not to cover for Logan…”
My voice is barely above a whisper. “To cover for Nicole.”
The corner of her mouth curls up, and she nods.
“Nicoletook the video.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINECLARANOW
“WHERE IS SHE?” REIDgrinds out. He springs up quickly—too quickly—and he nearly topples over. But I’m right there, gripping his arms to steady him.
“Is it your knee?” I ask.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Yes, but I’m fine.”
I glare at him. “Bullshit.”
Though I keep my grip firm on his forearms, he guides me away from him. He tries to take a step, and the lack of expression on his face betrays just how much pain he’s in. I blink around the room and notice that several people are watching us. Watching him.
Looking at him with greedy eyes, delighted in their shock that the Golden Boy finally snapped. Considering just how hard to push him off the pedestal they put him on. Panic flares, hot and fast. I may be irritated with the way he keeps avoiding this, but that doesn’t mean I want any of his secrets to come out under anything but his own terms.
“Lean on me,” I say quickly.
“I don’t need—”
I crowd his space and get the line of my shoulders under his arm. “Shut up and lean on me. Like Josh did with Amaya, act like it’s from the fight.”
Contempt curls his lip, clearly unhappy at the prospect of giving Josh that satisfaction. But he must see there’s no other choice because the stubborn champion finally relents. He hunches onto me and grips his rib cage. I notice Josh smirking across the auditorium, and everyone still hovering around starts talking again in hushed whispers.
A pained grunt escapes Reid.
Biting my tongue, I slowly lead him out behind the school, where we used to run practice drills. I’m carrying a lot of his weight, and it takes longer than I expect to make it to the media room where I edited all my footage for the yearbook. Thankfully it’s unlocked.
When we finally get inside and I close the door, he slumps in a chair, sweat beading his brow.
“What do you need?” I ask.
He scrubs a hand across his good eye, battling some internal war before he finally says, “Ice.”
I nod and run back to the gym to get him a pack left on the table. When I return, he has his leg propped up and he lays the ice across it.
I study him a long moment. A black eye, swollen and bruised knuckles, and an injury he refuses to let heal. It takes everything in me not to tell him to talk to his dad again. He didn’t want that from me this morning. But it hurts to see him like this. Battered and exhausted. Angry in a way that no amount of fighting will fix.
“Why, Reid?” I start. “Why won’t you just ask for somehelp?”
“I—” He shakes his head, his chest rising and falling more rapidly.But when he looks in my eyes, instead of more excuses or denials, the truth finally slips out. “I don’t know how.”
His face flames with the admission.
My voice goes soft, and I can’t keep the words from shaking. “Can I help you figure it out?”
