Page 99 of Did They Break You

“What do you mean?” I ask Storm.

He shifts his hips, his abs flexing as he pockets his phone. It’s Monday evening, and I wonyet anothergame over the weekend. I had dinner with Dad and Tristan afterward even though they didn’t go to the game to avoid Mom, but Remi…

She probably would’ve been happier if I’d gotten a concussion. I didn’t see her in the stands, and I never expect to see her there again.

Still, it’s a nice fantasy.

Thinking of her waiting for me in my truck afterward, completely naked, sprawled out on my backseat.

Yeah, that’s never going to happen.

Storm shrugs. “Greg McGowan. If he knew you two were…” Storm gestures toward me with tattooed fingers. “Doing whatever you’re doing…” He runs his hand through his black hair before dropping it onto the arm of his chair. “He’d have a stroke. You know he’s always been about hisimage.”

I scoff, leaning back on the couch, tossing my phone beside me. “His image is that of a rich, sloppy, fucking drunk redneck.”

Storm nods. “Right. And any talk about you and the girl who accused you and his son of rape being seen together, that might not be good for business.”

I roll my eyes. “Good.”

Storm brushes his hand over his mouth, shaking his head. “Small towns talk. People like Greg listen.” He stands, stretching, his arms overhead. “Watch out for her.”He drops his arms by his side, staring at me. “And watch yourself around her.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

REMI

When I was running regularly,I got up before dawn, but walking down Main Street of Ely’s campus at nightfall is new to me. The cemetery is the only place that sees me after dark.

It’s Thursday night—football night—and the sidewalks are crowded. Students, faculty, alumni, and more in orange and black jerseys, some with their faces painted like tigers and others sporting tiger paw necklaces bigger than their fists.

It’s loud and chaotic, a little chilly too for a September night. Despite that, cars roll by with their windows down, the bass of different soundtracks colliding in the air. People whistle and laugh loudly, some clapping and cheering in their three, four, and more person groups as they descend the cobblestone walkways down toward the stadium.

And for once, the sight of all these football fans and the tense energy crackling beneath the stars overhead doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. Because Sloane, Van, Ryann, and I are headed in the opposite direction of the Tiger masses.

The scent of popcorn and cotton candy is thick as I inhale and despite the lies I’m keeping from my best friends, I can sense fall in the air and it makes my heart soar. Tonight, there’snothing but water and a double shot of espresso in my system, and for the first time in days, I finally feel happy.

Maybe it’s my cycle, or not talking to Cortland, or hearing Ryann—whom I’ve never hung out with before—giggle as punctuation to all of her sentences as she talks nonstop. Or maybe it’s just knowing we’re headed to a secret “gem,” as Van called it, that’s part speakeasy, part underground crime meeting place.

Those are, also, Van’s words. He said one of his professors told him the name of the place and he’s been diving into Reddit threads searching more lore ever since.

I avoid Reddit at all costs, so as not to see my own name there, but I’m still happy to be out.

Part of me thinks Cortland gave me this confidence. But the rest of me won’t let him have that.

“Does the mob work here?” Sloane asks as we shift to accommodate a family climbing up the sidewalk to heard toward the stadium. We’re walking downhill, and I like the way I can see everything from this angle.

The mountains jutting star ward ahead. The luxurious red brick buildings surrounding the green quad to my left, the road at my side, and a cathedral owned by Ely across it. With all the lights on around campus, it’s easy to see the beauty. And in a group like I’m in now, I’m relaxed enough to appreciate it.

Van has his tattooed arm around Ryann’s shoulders and he twists around to glance at me and Sloane. “Wouldn’t it be mostly moonshiners and gold miners?”

“Neither of those things are illegal,” I point out, arching a brow as I smile at him.

“Moonshine can be,” Sloane counters at my side.

Van is practically walking backwards now, letting Ryann guide him as he stares at me. “See? Always shooting my ideas down but I’m smart.”

“You’re so smart,” Ryann chirps. “The smartest. The most intelligent man in the world. The most, best, absolutely unbelievably smartest person I’ve ever?—”

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