Page 76 of Illegal Formation
It took less than twenty minutes for them to be out the door, a kiss from each of them on my forehead and a promise that they’d check in tomorrow.
Then it was just me and Darcy.
“Don’t,” I begged her as soon as the silence settled over us. I was already shaking my head, biting back tears, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. I didn’t know what I was asking her not to do. Maybe make any sudden movements, since I felt as fragile as a house of cards.
“I won’t,” she promised, laying her head on my shoulder.
My phone buzzed again from the kitchen island. It’d been buzzing since the game ended. There were missed calls from Claire, texts from Marcus, social media tags of well wishes from other members on the team.
And a string of texts from Braden.
“Do you want your phone?” Darcy asked.
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I actually did. When she handed it to me, she disappeared down the hall in the name of taking off her makeup and changing her clothes. She promised she’d be back to help me do the same just as I swiped past my lock screen and tapped into my messages.
He was right there at the top.
You okay?
What happened?
Emily. Answer me.
Did you go to the hospital?
Game’s over. Tell me where I can go to see you.
Just overheard Claire. She said you’re home. Are you home?
I’m coming.
That last one had just come through.
Without thinking, I typed with my left hand, slow and clunky, and sent one word.
Don’t.
The little bubbles bounced, telling me he was typing, and then they went away.
My phone rang.
Instantly, the tears I’d been holding back fell — fast and furious and unrelenting. Sobs broke my chest as I declined the call.
The whole world was falling in on me, and I didn’t want an audience.
I curled up into myself, burrowing into a blanket as much as I could with one arm, and let myself feel it all.
The shame of my parents.
The pain of the injury.
The forbidden desire I held for Braden.
The way I longed for him to be here even when I knew I shouldn’t.
The fear of my future.
The fear that I’d never have a future — that I’d always be one step behind.
