Page 11 of Cross the Line
“He’s always been better at fitting in. Showing people what they want to see.”
“So, tell me about the party.” Connie silences her phone, sending the call that interrupts us to voicemail. “Why was it a trap?”
“Before we left for the tournament, Presley and I had a fight. He hurt Finley—the only good thing I had. He tried to take her away from me, and… and no one hurts my girl.” Connie tips her face up with a soft grin. I wait for her to say something, but when she doesn’t, I go on. “He hurt her, and I hurt him in front of his buddies. At the party, he got his own back.”
“What does that mean? He got his own back? What did he do?” Like she does in her office, Connie kicks off her heels and settles in to listen to me.
Meanwhile, I turn around and face the wall, focusing on the fire evacuation procedure plaque in front of me. “We got there, and the guys were playing a drinking game. I should’ve left then. I had no business drinking or even being there.”
My heart pounds harder and harder with every word, battering my ribs mercilessly.
“Ryker and I joined the game, and it was awful. So bad, but I didn’t want to let Ryker down. He got so much shit from the other guys already because of his sexuality. The liquor was terrible. My insides felt like they were on fire a couple of turns into the game, and my head was getting fuzzy. Then my phone rang, and I thought it was my way out. I could answer it and go back to our room.”
I take a moment to breathe through the panic twisting in my gut. It’s the same as that night when Presley got in my face and?—
“Eli,” Connie calls softly. “Who was on the phone?”
“Finley,” I reply. “She called me after every game when her parents had gone to bed.”
“That’s sweet,” she coos back.
“It’s Finley. She’s the sweetest person in the world.” I suck in a breath before I carry on telling her about the party. “Presley got in my face, and when I tried to get up to leave, he shoved me back down. My drink spilled all over my shirt. It was a mess, and I was still trying to get out of there when he took my phone. I tried to get it off him, but his friends held me down and… and…”
“They held you down,” Connie echoes as I trace the arrows along the floor plan on the plaque.
“Yes, and I couldn’t get them off of me because I was dizzy and the liquor made everything sludgy.” My hands flatten to the wall to steady myself. My head is spinning now as it was back then. The sickness is blistering up my throat. “I couldn’t stop any of it. Ryker tried to, but Presley threw him on top of me. He made him lick the liquor from my shirt and… and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop it.”
“I see,” Connie whispers. “That’s the photo.”
“Yeah. After we returned to Portland the next day, I never saw Ryker again. Until he showed up at the community rink. We argued, and he followed me to my car. We argued some more, and I left. I went home to Fin and Jayden and—” I stop at my words.
They slipped so easily. Too easily. Or maybe I’m done trying to hold everything in.
“Like I said before, this doesn’t change who you are, Eli.”
“I never ever felt anything other than friendship towards Ryker. Until… until that night. I thought he was my friend, Connie. Even when I crawled out of the room, I thought he was my friend. I was mad for sure, and I yelled at him. But he put me in that place. In that situation. He manipulated our friendship and… and… he left me vulnerable. Unable to protect myself. He fed me to the sharks.” I blink away the tears that cloud my eyes.
“You were a good friend to him.”
I spin so fast, my insides lurch. “I was a stupid child, and now…”
Connie tilts her face, eyes narrowing as though she’s trying to see through to the core of my fucked up mind. “Now?”
“Everything is falling apart. Again.”
“That’s not true,” she asserts, righting her heels before she slips them on and stands on the step she was sitting on so that we’re level. “You have held yourself together every day since that incident. Nothing has changed, Eli.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true. Think about it logically. Step outside the box you’re putting yourself in and look into it from a different perspective.”
“You don’t get it. You don’t understand, Connie. I’ve hurt them. I’ve hurt the people that matter the most and?—”
“How? Take a breath, think about it, and tell me how you’ve hurt anyone.”
I take a breath, even though it’s impossible to think anything through with the chaos screaming in my head. “The photos. The article.”
“Did you take the photos?” She asks with a hitch to her brow.
