Page 46 of Calm Before the Score

“Try to call him from your phone,” I tell Liza.

She tries with no luck.

“Let’s go by the apartment and his house first.” My stomach is in knots, and I’m trying my best not to empty my guts in the car. We pass by both places with no luck. I decide to drive downtown next.

“What did Hartley say happened?” Liza asks timidly. I didn’t mean to take my frustration out on her earlier. She is supporting me the best she can.

“He said something sketchy happened, but he couldn’t talk about it,” I repeat what my best friend dropped on me.

“Maybe he’s hurt,” she says hopefully.

“Doubt it,” I gulp, glance at her, then return my focus to the road. “If he got hurt, he would have told me. I have a feeling this is worse.”

“Don’t think like that.” Liza reaches over and rubs my shoulder. I’m glad to have her here. She’s the only thing keeping me from slipping over the edge.

We drive down every street, taking turns checking restaurants, gas stations, and parks. Ryan doesn’t drink in public, but I’m in desperation mode and have to check just to rule them out. We park in the shared lot by Downtown Tap and walk in. As soon as I pass the bouncer, my heart cracks into a million tiny pieces.

I see my broken boy hunched over the bar with his hands laced through his hair. He is surrounded by empty shot glasses and half-naked women draped over him. He isn’t giving them any attention, but the sight guts me. He’s wearing the same thing he left the apartment in this morning.How long has he been here?

Without thinking, I run to him and grab his shoulders. His delayed response to my touch on his back and glassy eyes tell me he’s wasted. He seems completely indifferent about seeing me here.

“Babe, what’s going on?” My eyes search his, frantically, for answers.

“Why are you here?” he replies with hollow eyes. I smell the harsh stench of alcohol on his breath.

“Why areyouhere?” I shoot back at him. Hurt painted on my panicked face. My hands shake like a leaf, and I’m close to falling apart at the sight of him.

“Figured your best friend would have mentioned how much of a screw-up I am,” he slurs, and with every word, my heart fractures more.

“He didn’t exactly have time to tell me why my boyfriend was a no-show for the playoff game. I was there waiting for you, Ryan.” I’m trying to be patient, but I’m wearing thin. I need him to tell me what’s going on.

He turns and signals for the bartender. The middle-aged woman wearing a revealing top stops by Ryan. He orders another shot. I glare at the woman and silently signal that he’s had enough. She nods in agreement and brings him a glass of water instead.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s over. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave. I’m nothing anymore. You’ve always been too good for me, anyway,” he spits with a loss of hope in his voice. His eyes aren’t the same ones that locked with mine when I revealed my mental health struggles. His hands aren’t the same ones that cradle me safely in my bed every night, shielding me away from my darkest thoughts. This isn’t my Ryan. I refuse to let him do this.

“You don’t mean that.” Silent tears roll down my face. My hand hasn’t left his muscular shoulder, and my feet are frozen in place.

“I do. You and I both knew this wouldn’t last. Look at us.” He gestures at me as if I’m a spectacle on display for him.

“Stop. This isn’t you. We both know it,” I raise my voice. I’m losing control of my emotions with each word. My breathing escalates, and I begin to see a black rim form around my eyes. Panic and self-doubt sets in like wildfire.

“Look up.” He waves to the big TV sitting above the bar. I don’t immediately recognize why he wants me to look, but then it hits me. Across the bottom of the screen, there is a little news banner that rolls continuously. I read the tiny letters:Ryan Shane suspended indefinitely for violation of NCAA rules.

My eyes dart to my boyfriend in total confusion.What rules did he break?

“What’s happening?” I ask one last time in hopes that he will explain this incredibly confusing mess of a situation to the person he claims to love the most. He continues to ignore me and drown his worries in the bottom of a drink. “Ryan, tell me what’s going on.”

“If I tell you, will you leave?” he asks, annoyed.

“Yes.” I have to remain strong. I can’t let him see how heartbreaking it is to hear the love of my life try his best to get me out of his sight.

“I bet on some games. Knew it was against the rules. Did it anyway,” he answers with nonchalance.

“Bet?” I’m still not getting it.

“Yes, Violet,betting.I put money on some games, and now it’s over,” He takes a sip of the water in front of him and loses his mind at the taste of it on his tongue. He waves the glass around arrogantly and screams, “This isn’t vodka. I need a refill.” All eyes are on my out-of-control boyfriend.

“Ryan, stop. Let’s go home,” No matter how much his hurtful words have shattered my heart tonight, I need to get him out of here before someone calls the police.

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