Page 127 of Keep Me Never
Chase
The second my foot hits the pavement, it all caves in.
The noises fade, but the heaviness doesn’t. It just…shifts, going from this pulsing roar in my chest to a thick, throbbing weight low in my gut. I don’t hear the world around me, and I can’t feel the bite of the late November air. All I know is the ache behind my ribs and the pressure building at the back of my throat.
I don’t know how long I stand there, at the edge of the pile the driver’s creating as he pulls bag after bag from under the compartment, but suddenly Brady’s shoes are in front of mine.
I blink, lifting my gaze, finding his frown staring back at me. Beside him, Mason is doing the same. I look between the two of them, a bit confused.
“What?” My voice comes out rough, and I try to clear my throat.
Rather than repeat whatever it was he might have tried to say, Brady’s frown deepens, the corners of his mouth tugging down, and Mason’s shifts from irritation to worry. It must show all over my face. This loss, this shame, but they only know half of the weight I’m carrying.
I can’t possibly tell them that tonight wasn’t just a bad game—they know that already and that’s where the concern in their eyes is coming from, the witnessing of my downfall.
But what they don’t know is something else is wrong, something I can no longer push to the back of my mind andignore, that might end everything for real, if there is even still a chance for me at all.
Or that in two weeks’ time, when we pack up for our last winter break here at Avix University, the school we planned to attend together since we were fifteen years old, I won’t be coming back.
The thought slices something open in me, a cold knot locking up my throat. It’s coming, the break. The goodbye. The final fall.
I can’t?—
I shift my weight, grip the strap of my back tighter, and force out, “Can you…can you take this?” The words taste like defeat, but the bag’s too heavy. Not in pounds but in pressure and everything that it holds. It slips from my shoulder and hits the ground between us.
I can’t tell them that, on Coach’s orders, I have to go to the ER. That I have to finally figure out what the hell has been going on with me.
Mason’s brows pull together instantly, and Brady’s already blindly reaching for it, his worried gaze not breaking from my own.
“Yeah, man, we got it,” Brady says quietly.
“We gotyou,” Mason adds, softer than I expected.
Their understanding kills me because I know, if given the chance, they would hold me up, take all the weight, and share it between them if it were possible.
It isn’t.
I spin, unable to meet their stares anymore, and start walking. My feet barely lift, the numbness spreading, this time not from whatever the hell happened on the field those few weeks ago, but not fast enough. I want it to fucking swallow me.
“Where are you going, brother?” Mase calls after me.
When I don’t answer, he tries again: “Don’t forget, we’ve got the FaceTime call planned for later. Ari made us all promise, remember?”
My head tips, maybe a nod, maybe not. I can’t tell. My jaw is locked, my throat raw like someone’s dragging nails up the inside of it. I just have to get out of here, away from…everything.
“She wants you there, too,” he adds. And then quieter, slower, he says, “So does Paige.”
That one lands, lodging itself somewhere behind my ribs, but I keep walking. I keep walking because I can’t stop.
If I stop now, I’ll fall, so I keep going.
My lungs burn as if I’m running, but I can’t say for sure if I am. I could be moving at a snail’s pace, and I wouldn’t notice the difference.
I have to get away, to escape. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? There’s no more escaping the reality. No more wishing and hiding, no more wasted hope.
I’ve reached the end of the road, and just like I expected, there’s no soft landing waiting for me.
I guess it’s true what they say, as much as I was hoping I got it wrong.
