Page 147 of Bitter When He Begs

He shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, maybe.”

“Sage.”

He sighs, pulling a peppermint sweet out of his hoodie pocket and popping it into his mouth like this is the most casual intervention ever attempted. “Okay, yes. Fine. I made a group chat with the guys and asked them what’s going on and planned it. Not down to the minute, but close enough. I figured if I showed up and let you spiral, you’d end up punching a wall or screaming into a pillow. And while that would’ve been entertaining, I figured this would be better.”

“You’re unreal.”

He grins around the peppermint. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

I reach over and tug on the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling him closer until his legs bump against my knees. “Seriously, though. Thank you.”

His face softens immediately and he reaches up to cup my face. “You don’t have to thank me. This is what we do, right? When one of us is falling apart, the other drags him back.”

I hold onto that for a second. Thewe.Theus. The way he says it like it’s just fact now, no drama or hesitation. Just something solid I can lean on.

He tilts his head and adds, “Also, I like watching you work out. So, this is a win-win.”

“There it is,” I mutter, but I’m smiling, the kind of real smile I didn’t think I’d find today. “You can’t help yourself.”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ and hops off the machine. “Now come on, King. Let’s finish this set so you can feel even more emotionally balanced, and I can continue perving on my hot, wrongfully-accused quarterback boyfriend in peace.”

I snort, dragging myself upright again. My muscles are sore, and my brain is still buzzing with worry about tomorrow, but the pressure has eased. The storm is still there, but it’s not crashing into me anymore. I can breathe again. Think again. And it’s because of him.

Because Sage didn’t just show up, he showed upfor me. With a plan, a hoodie full of candy, and the stubbornness of someone who refuses to let me spiral alone.

I lie down on the bench again, feeling lighter.

Tomorrow will come.

But for now, I’ve got my boy, my breath, and a little bit of weight to lift off my shoulders—one rep at a time.

Luca

Ican’tfuckingbreathe.

The whole locker room is quiet, which is rare as hell, but no one’s really talking, not even Julian or Eli, who always have some dumb shit to say. They’re waiting, just like I am, just like we all are, but they’re not the ones with everything on the line. That’s me.

I feel like I’m vibrating out of my skin. My legs won’t stay still, my hands are clenched into fists, and my stomach is in knots so tight I think I might throw up.

I know I didn’t take anything. I know I’m fucking clean.

But the doubt is still there, the fear so thick it makes my throat close up. What if something got into my system? What if I slipped up and don’t remember? What if they say it’s still dirty, even though I know that’s not possible?

I run a hand through my hair, trying to steady my breathing, but nothing’s working.

I just want this to be over.

Across from me, Julian is watching me carefully, his arms crossed over his chest. Eli sits beside him, drumming his fingers against his knee. The entire fucking Sin Bin household is here looking like they’re already prepared to throw a punch on my behalf.

Sage isn’t in the locker room, obviously—he’s got a seminar or a class, or something equally obnoxious that I insisted he not skip, but I know he’s waiting too. Probably checking his phone every five seconds. Probably chewing on one of those damn peppermint sweets he keeps stashed in his hoodie like a habit he doesn’t want to admit is emotional.

I texted him half an hour ago and told him I’d call the second I knew, and true to form, he didn’t reply with a question or some worried paragraph—just,“You’ve got this.”

Do I?

Because right now, I feel like my body is trying to crawl out of itself. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours pretending I’m calm, that I trust the system, that I believe the truth will win out—but inside, I’ve been losing my fucking mind. And now the door to Coach’s office opens, and his voice cuts through the room like a blade.

“Devereaux. Let’s go.”

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