Page 17 of Triple Threat
“Fine.” I stood, moving toward the door. “Are we done?”
Benny sat up, shooting me a lethal glare. “Not even fucking close, Jace. The minute we get back into town, you’re going to a treatment program.”
My whole body tensed, and anger radiated through all my pores. A cold sweat climbed down my spine as I turned back to meet Benny’s furious scowl. I cleared my throat, trying to push away some of the dryness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit,” he hissed. He stood, and, for a minute, I’d forgotten how intimidating Weber could be. The man was a giant, and this was coming from a guy who spent his days with professional athletes. Tension raced through his forearms, especially when he slammed his palm against the surface of his desk. “I tried to ignore it for a while, but you’re not even trying to hide it anymore. I’ve been in this game for a long time, Lyons. Seen a lot of guys get fucked up by the money and the fame. Don’t want that to happen to you.”
I shook my head. “I’m not?—”
“Stop lying to me, or I’ll make you piss in a cup right now.”
Shit. I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms over my chest. He shook his head. “The only reason I’m not is because, buried underneath all that attitude and snark, you’re a good fucking guy. There’s no goddamn way I’m going to sit by and watch you throw your life away.” He riffled through the papers on his desk and pulled out a pamphlet.Whispering Hills Rehabilitation Facility.“You’ve got a week to pack your shit, but, next Monday, you show up there. If you don’t, you’re done with this game, Jace.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my hand to take the crumpled paper. Reading through the words, I shook my head. “Benny, I can’t do this. If the league finds out?—”
“They’re already aware.”
“What?” I stepped closer, my hands clenching into fists, turning the pamphlet into a smashed ball. “How the fuck could you do that?”
The treatment board was no joke. If they got even a whiff of players using, they’d be in our clubhouse, demanding everyone submit to a piss test.
“Watch yourself,” Benny bit, his tone low but dark. “It was the only option.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Benny scoffed. ”When,not if, you fail your drug test, this would’ve gone right to the treatment board. And the first question they’d ask? If I knew. I’m not putting my career—the past twenty years—on the line to cover for you.” When I sank back into the chair, Benny shook his head. “This way, we’re getting ahead of it. Do the program, keep yourself clean. Prove yourself in the Triple A’s. Then, get your ass back here, and be the player you should be.”
I shook my head, shame and guilt curdling deep in my gut. It was one thing to let myself down, but to see that resignation in Benny destroyed me. He’d risked everything by talking to me, planning this out to help me. It was a lifeline, one I didn’t deserve, but one I took anyway.
Standing from my chair, I nodded at Benny. “Won’t let you down, Weber.”
At least, not again.
ELEVEN
“Kins, are you okay in there?”
Chelsea knocked on the bathroom door again, impatience making each beat a little louder. The white porcelain mocked me; it was only a matter of time before my stomach lurched again. God, what the hell had I eaten yesterday? I should have skipped the gas station sandwich, but, after driving for hours from the city, I’d been starving. It seemed like the right option at the time. Note to self—next time, keep driving.
“One more minute,” I croaked out, praying the nausea would subside soon. There was so much to be done to get my mom’s condo ready to go on the market, and I only had two days. After my long-term absence from the firm months ago, I was out of vacation days, so I had to be back in the office by Monday.
Two days seemed like enough time to deal with the apartment. At least, it had, before this stupid stomach bug. Yesterday, the nausea had come in waves, and then it faded, leaving me with little energy but still strong enough to continue working. Today, it was so much worse.
Chelsea’s muffled voice broke through the door. “Come on, Kins. I’m getting worried out here.”
I forced myself into a sitting position.Fucking hell.All I wanted was my bed—to curl up and watch true crime documentaries until this illness worked itself out. But I needed to deal with the house situation, and I couldn’t keep running to Erie City on my weekends. With the next round of LSATs in only three weeks, I had no time for anything else to go wrong. Stomach bug be damned.
After washing my face and rinsing my mouth out, I pulled the door open, finding Chelsea’s worried frown on the other side.
“Better?”
“Not really,” I mumbled, walking into her waiting arms. Chelsea wrapped them tightly around me, and I melted into her embrace. But then, my stomach twisted. Pushing her back a little, I shook my head. “You should leave, Chels. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Not going to happen.” She put her arm around my shoulders, guiding me over to the couch. “Sit for a minute, and I’ll grab you some water.”
Just the idea of putting anything in my stomach turned me green. As she rummaged through the fridge, I grabbed my purse, digging for the tin of peppermints I kept in the pocket. They were the only thing I’d been able to stomach all day, and I wasn’t about to risk anything upsetting it again.
Chelsea came out of the kitchen, handing me a glass of water. I reached out and took it, tucking it on the side table. Just the slightest movement was enough to make my vision swim. Running my hand over my face, I slammed my eyes shut. Maybe if I closed them tight enough, I could will this bug away. “God, there’s so much to be done.”
