CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Zane
The shadows move across the off-white wall of my cheap hotel room as I sit staring. Unable to move. Watching as night morphs into day. Darkness into light.
After ordering shitty room service last night, I tried to sleep.
But every time I close my eyes, the image of Sie— Fuck, why can’t I say her name again?
The image of my sister fills my mind, making me nauseous.
It’s not even a memory. She’s blaming me for her death, telling me that if I’d died instead, it would have prevented all this from happening.
But I’m not too far gone that I’d believe that notion. She’d never say that.
Even if her ghost was haunting me, those words would never leave her mouth. She’d never even think it.
She might blame me for her death, but she’d never suggest I should have taken her place. She was inherently good. That wasn’t in her nature.
She didn’t deserve to die.
Hell, Landon fucked up. He attacked Reed and Hayley and he didn’t deserve to die.
But neither do I.
I don’t think…
My alarm goes off, signaling my impending date with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s office, but I still can’t bring myself to move.
My blood feels like lead, weighing me down as it races through my body.
I want it all to go away. I need it to go away. I can’t do this to them again. I can’t bring them all down because of my goddamn fuckups.
My phone rings on the bed beside me, and though I only manage to move my head an inch, I can still see the screen and Reed’s name flashing to get my attention. He’s not the first teammate to call since I texted to tell them I wouldn’t be at practice, but he’s the only one likely to know why.
He probably got the same call I did. Only, I’ll bet his interview can be done over the phone or with his local police, while I’m stuck reopening old wounds.
I’m still staring at my phone when it stops ringing and the notifications hit me like a dagger.
Blair—twelve missed calls.
Cade—six missed calls.
Unknown number—three missed calls.
And that’s only in the last few hours.
There’ve been many more but they disappear as the new notifications bury them. I remember who they were though… Luke, D’Angelo, Wes.
Not to mention the barrage of text messages and voice mails.
I know I’m fucking up even more by not answering my phone. Especially with Blair. But I can’t bring myself to face her. I can’t bear to hear her shattered voice when it’s still so loud from the last time I did something that broke her heart.
I stare at the wall in front of me, the uncomfortable hospital bed making my ass numb.
The doctor is talking to me but I tune him out the second he says, “You’re lucky to be alive.
” Who the fuck says that to a survivor of a car accident when the other two people are dead?
I’m well aware that I’m lucky. But I don’t need him to remind me of that little detail and all the guilt that comes with it.
He pats my shoulder and I flinch, his rushed apology barely registering in my ears.
When he’s done, I nod, thanking him for God knows what as my gaze follows him out the door.
And that’s when my world ends.
Blair’s standing on the threshold. Her hair a mess, her eyes bloodshot, her face marred with black tears.
She doesn’t speak. But I guess neither do I. I can’t. I don’t know what to say. Not anymore.
A murky darkness fills the space between us, and she takes a step forward, ripping my chest open as I struggle to breathe. I can’t face her. But I also can’t handle the thought of sending her away.
She pauses for a beat, shaking her head and stepping back, her shoulders dropping as someone calls her away.
“B,” I finally croak out as she turns to leave.
She pauses and her pained expression splits me in two. “I can’t,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “It hurts too much.”
Sitting up, I Inhale a ragged breath and bang my head against the hotel wall as my memory assaults me. But it’s not the worst of it. And when that worst comes to mind, I force myself to move, running to the bathroom as I dry retch.
Sierra. Sierra. Wake up. Come on. Come on. You have to wake up. Don’t you dare die on me. Sierra!
My stomach heaves as I fall to the cold tiles, tears in my eyes, my heart lodged in my throat.
I need you, S. And God, I need Blair.
I’m not sure how the fuck I got myself here, but after my breakdown in the hotel, my alarm went off again and I somehow managed to clean myself up, getting my ass to the station. Right on time.
Two officers greet me. The first one introduces himself as Holt.
He’s an older man with a porn star mustache and light red hair shaved at the sides, his expression cocky.
The second, a younger woman with smiling eyes and dark, slicked-back hair, introduces herself as Officer Nelson, her tone much more professional.
They escort me through the halls until we reach a dark room, and when the lights switch on, I’m not sure if it’s my vision or an interrogation technique, but it doesn’t get much brighter.
Officer Nelson gestures for me to sit, and I’ve barely lowered my ass when I’m hit with the words I was dreading.
“Mr. McKenna was pronounced dead yesterday morning. We’ve asked you here today to give your official statement over the incident that occurred on…
” Mustache man, Holt, continues his rant but I zone out, trying to replay the events of that night, with my mind overflowing with all the fucked-up things I’ve done in my life.
What if I’m wrong? What if my memory of that night is based on lies, conjured to protect myself.
A way of ensuring I wouldn’t break down if it ever came to this.
Not that it helps if that’s true.
I want to believe it was self-defense, I do, but he fucking died. I slammed his head into the pavement so goddamn hard that he died. Even if it was self-defense, it’s still my fault. I still killed another human. Making my number three.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick?”
“Sorry, yes.” I snap out of my head, my stomach rolling with nausea.
“Can you state your full name for the record, please?”
“Yes, it’s Zane William Fitzpatrick.”
“Thank you.”
“Can you please confirm that you don’t wish to have a lawyer present?”
Fuck. “Am I under arrest?”
“Should you be?” Holt questions me while Officer Nelson shakes her head beside him.
“No. You’re not. We’re just making sure we have all the information now that the circumstances have changed.”
Circumstances have changed. That makes it sound so much less permanent than it is. He fucking died.
“At this stage, this is just routine,” she adds.
“Unless you have more information to tell us.”
What? My eyes bounce between them as my head aches. Are they fucking good cop, bad copping me?
“Please state for the record—”
“I don’t wish to have a lawyer present.” I repeat their words back and my heart clenches. Did I just make the biggest mistake of my life?
“Thank you. Now, as we said, Mr. McKenna was pronounced dead yesterday after three months on life support. You’re here to fill us in on everything you remember from that night.
Even the details you think are irrelevant.
We’ll also be speaking to the other parties involved as well as hotel security who were rostered on that night. ”
I nod, unsure what to say, and Officer Nelson smiles. “Take your time.”
“I don’t need to take my time. I’ve been thinking about this nonstop for months. The details haunt me. But I can’t think of anything else that I haven’t already said.”
“Then just repeat what you told the police back in August.”
“Okay.” Releasing a slow breath, I recall everything that happened that night—from our preseason game, to seeing Reed and Hayley outside the hotel, and passing Landon on my way to the bar.
“He was acting strange. Talking to himself. He didn’t even notice I was there.
But at the time, I didn’t think anything of it.
I barely knew him. Maybe he was going over the game.
Maybe it was something he always did. We all have our postgame rituals.
When I heard Hayley scream, Landon was the furthest from my mind.
But I ran. I knew something was wrong and I ran.
I reached Reed and Hayley, just as Reed was pushing her out of harm’s way, toward me.
And that’s when I saw him stab Reed somewhere in the chest. At least, I thought it was his chest at the time. ”
“Sorry, by him, you mean…”
“Landon. Mr. McKenna. He stabbed Reed once and pulled back to go again. That’s when I tackled him.”
The next few seconds are the ones I’m questioning, wondering if my mind’s playing tricks on me.
Not that I tell them that. I tell the officers that Landon stabbed me, and he must have because I have the scar to prove it, but I also tell them I feared for my life when I slammed his head into the pavement.
Yet I was pinning him down. I was bigger than him, stronger than him. Is it possible that I fell on the knife and my anger caused me to do more? How the fuck will I ever know that?
“Anything else?” Holt asks, his expression suspicious.
“No. Well, yes. When he stopped moving, I heard Hayley crying and realized that Reed was unconscious. I ran over to help her. She was kind of hysterical.”
“But you didn’t think to help Landon?”
“Honestly, I didn’t even look at his face. I assumed he stopped moving because he’d given up the fight. Believe it or not, an asshole that had just stabbed my friend wasn’t high on my priority list.”
“Your friend?”
“Yes.” The word comes out shaky because it’s not exactly the truth, but he’s a teammate so close enough.
“Would you say you were friends because you were teammates, or was it more than that?”
“Yes, because we are teammates.” Reed may not be playing right now, but he’s still very much a part of our team. He won’t leave.
“How would you say your relationship was with Mr. McKenna then? Since he was also a teammate.”
“He was a rookie.”
“And so were you not too long ago.”
“I was. But I didn’t get the chance to get to know him.”
“Right. Did you have any issues with him?” He glances down at his notes. “I understand he was on track to be a starter soon. Was there any concern that he’d take over your spotlight?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? We don’t…didn’t even play the same position.
And if he was on track to be a starter, as you say, I didn’t know.
There are hundreds of guys waiting for their shot, but the only people who discuss that are the coaches and maybe the GM.
We don’t all sit around as a team drinking tea and chatting about the upcoming roster.
I had no idea. That thought had never crossed my mind.
Let’s not forget the big issue with Landon, that you haven’t mentioned today…
He was stalking Hayley…and Reed. He chose to attack them. This wasn’t premeditated by me.”
“But it’s opportunistic.”
“The fuck?” I pound my fists on the table, and mustache Holt leans back in his chair, smirking.
“It seems you’ve got an anger issue, Mr. Fitzpatrick.”
“No. I’ve got an issue with being accused of something I didn’t do.”
“We’re not accusing you,” Officer Nelson says, subtly glancing toward her partner. “We’re just trying to get all the facts. Can you remember anything else?”
“No. That’s it.”
“Thank you.” She smiles but I’m too pissed off to smile back. “We just have a few more questions about Landon’s behavior in the lead-up to that game and then you’re free to leave.”
“For now,” the douchebag adds.
“I told you, I barely knew him. I can’t even remember seeing him before the game.”
“We’d still like to ask you. Just in case.”
I sigh, giving in, and I spend the next thirty minutes locked in that stuffy blue room before they finally release me.
When I walk outside, my eyes water in the bright sunlight as though it’s been hours since I saw it. Honestly, it feels that way.
And it’s not even over.
God only knows how long this nightmare will go on.
But what’s worse is that I’m stuck here until tomorrow, just in case they have any follow-up questions, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.