Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
There’s no damn way.
The moment my gaze lands on them, it’s like the air gets knocked from my lungs.
Sure enough, they’re standing off to the side of the walkway. My jaw locks at the way Garret sidles closer to her. Holland’s expression is unreadable.
But here’s the thing, she hasn’t moved away from him.
“What the hell?” I mutter.
“She knows you two have an issue, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, why are they together, then?” There’s not a single drop of smugness in Steele’s voice.
“I don’t know.” My pulse spikes, a mixture of confusion and something darker twisting in my chest.
Holland never glances in my direction. Her attention stays focused on my teammate. The one who has continued to fuck with me every chance he gets.
Garret says something, and she nods.
That’s all it takes for my stomach to churn.
“Look, man. I know you want to trust her.” Steele’s voice is quieter now. “I’m just not sure if you can. I’m worried that he’s the one feeding info to someone. The very same someone who’s been sleeping in your bed at night.”
Fuck.
I turn back to Steele, but the words are stuck in my throat. The doubts he’s just resurrected are taking root, tangling with the flicker of unease that’s been buried in the back of my brain since the start of all this.
Before I can respond, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I yank it out, hoping for a distraction, but what I see only makes everything worse.
Another anonymous message.
Anonymous message
Bridger Sanderson thinks he’s untouchable, but I know the truth. It won’t be long before all the dark secrets get dragged into the light.
The words hit like a physical blow, and my hand tightens on the phone. Steele grabs my cell and stares at the screen before swearing under his breath.
He glares in the direction of Garret and Holland. “If it turns out they’re working together, I’ll bury both of them alive.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, rage bubbling under my skin. I feel like I’m drowning in a storm I can’t control.
The messages.
My father.
The creeping doubts when I was so fucking sure I could trust her.
My phone vibrates again.
This time, it’s a notification from the chat app.
FragileLikeABomb
What do you do when you want to trust the one person you shouldn’t?
Her message feels too fitting, too timely.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I stare at her question. Anger and frustration swirl in my chest.
For the first time, I realize that I have no idea how to respond.
I don’t stop Steele when he grabs the coffee out of my hand and tosses it into the nearest trash can. “Sorry, bro. As much as you wanted to believe whatever this is between you two is real, I just don’t think it is.”
Instead of replying, I shove my phone back into my pocket and stare across the quad, watching as Holland and Garret fall in line together before heading toward one of the parking lots on campus.
My throat constricts until it becomes hard to breathe.
I’m at a loss.
I don’t know if Steele’s right, but it sure as hell feels like he might be.
32
Holland
We slip into Garret’s beat-up Ford Escape and the door groans as I close it. The faint, cloying sweetness of a pine air freshener clings to the air. The seats are worn, with a couple of tears in the fabric revealing the foam beneath. My fingers skim the edge of the cracked dashboard, and a small part of me softens at the sight. Like me, it’s obvious that Garret doesn’t come from money.
As we pull out of the parking lot and head south, I glance around, watching the scenery blur past the window. The fraternity and sorority houses near campus morph into the small shops and boutiques of downtown, the streets lined with brick façades and empty flower planters. It doesn’t take long before we turn into a residential area where the houses are compact and a little run-down. Paint peels from porches, and yards look a little unkempt.
That’s when it hits me that I haven’t asked the most obvious question.
“Where are we headed?”
Garret flicks a look in my direction, his hands tight on the steering wheel. “Just a place I like to go when I need to think.”
“Oh.” I shift in my seat. The unease I’ve been feeling since I agreed to this rises another notch. “Okay.”
The silence stretches between us, broken only by the hum of the engine. My fingers drum against my thigh as my instincts scream that this was a bad idea.
We come to a stop at a small park. It’s the kind you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it. A couple of trees dot the landscape, their branches casting thin shadows over the cracked basketball court and rusting jungle gym. A single picnic table sits off to the side, its once-red paint faded to a dull brown.