Page 56 of Puck Lust

What I did and why.

And how it’s haunted me ever since, like waiting for the other shoe to drop and land with the force of a wrecking ball against my skull.

Carter stands next to him.

A wave of panic replaces the dread.

Did he tell?—?

I scrape a hand down the front of my face, suck back the rest of the vodka in my glass, and take a deep, shuddering breath.

No. Carter has no idea.

And I have to keep it that way. I can’t imagine what he’d think if he knew…if anyone knew.

Sam nudges me. “Hey, what’s up? You okay?”

But I can’t even answer him because no.

I’m very fucking far from okay.

Shaking my head, I just walk away in the opposite direction of Coach Dalton’s searing glare and Carter’s curious, but concerned, expression.

Heat licks at the back of my neck, a thin stream of sweat drizzling down my back. Blood rushes between my ears, my leg muscles tensing as I head out of the ballroom.

And then where?

If he found me here, he’ll find me somewhere else.

I trusted that son of a bitch. He told me he wanted to help me, and I believed him.

Alarm grates my skin, exposing the raw terror that burrows just below the surface.

I’ll never forget that night.

I didn’t think I’d make it out.

And he knew I’d do anything to fix things.

To fix myself, my future.

I fist the sides of my hair, my throat so tight that only short, sharp gasps of air can pass through. My vision blurs, a sharp pain exploding down my left arm. I swing around to look behind me but neither Coach Dalton nor Carter are anywhere in my line of sight.

Fucking hell.

I twist around, my heart making my chest heave.

“You think you’re better than everyone, huh? But really you’re fucking pathetic and weak. A goddamn leech.”

Blood rushes between my ears, all sound around me fizzling away into white noise as the horrors from the deep recesses of my mind amplify.

“You disgust me. You don’t deserve to live!”

Bile rises in the back of my throat, my heels digging into the floor in my haste to get out of the hotel.

“Hey, Larson. Where are you runningoff to?”

I stop short, my shoes squeaking on the shiny tile as Tate grabs me by the arm. I sweep a hand through my hair but the dark cloud of my past hangs over me, poisoning my air.

---