Chapter 28
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I don’t cry much. Not that I have anything against crying. Honestly, I sometimes wish I did it more often. It can be cathartic. It was when I finally released the knot in my throat after realizing I wouldn’t be headed back to the University of Nebraska.
But now I can’t stop.
This isn’t like me. Even the times I’ve needed to take a step back to reevaluate or process something—my dad’s death, my brother’s overdose, transferring to a school of people who resented me for sullying their status quo.
I’ve been able to take all that in stride.
It doesn’t take long for me to stand up, put on the carefree mask I’ve perfected, and move forward.
Even when it still hurts, or when people or circumstances are breathing down my neck, I’ve just always been able to shut it down and keep going. Compartmentalizing is my lifeblood.
So why can’t I pack this up now? Especially when there are people staring at me in obvious concern, I can’t pull my shit together.
I cried and screamed my rage out enough yesterday that I don’t really have any actual tears left. But I can still feel the sadness and disbelief weighing me down. My body weighs too much. Even the skin on my face feels heavy.
After leaving the sports complex yesterday, I ran straight for the Mabel Lee Fields, where I used to jog and knew I was likely to not run into anyone.
I trudged through the frozen sludge that had melted from the night before and stood in the middle of the open field and screamed until my vocal cords gave out, fell to my hands and knees, and heaved.
Eventually, I realized my skin was numb with cold.
My knees were red and raw from the sludge I’d been kneeling in for too long.
I was still wearing my wrestling uniform with nothing but a zip-up hoodie, in the middle of December in Nebraska.
I stood up and walked in my soaked-through wrestling shoes to the residence hall where Leo and Eric live.
Leo was expecting me, although I was late because of the impromptu walk I took across campus. The moment he opened the door, his eyes widened.
“Brody…”
Eric popped up behind him, but the excitement quickly melted off his face as soon as he saw me standing there.
With their eyes on me, and the realization that I probably looked as bad as I felt, I wasn’t able to conjure up my usual mask. I haven’t been able to get it back since.
“You still look like shit,” Leo says, padding across the room with his hair sticking up on one side.
It’s sometimes hard to tell that Leo and Eric are related because they have different fathers, but when they’re sleep-rumpled and disheveled, I can see the resemblance.
I’ve rarely seen Eric rumpled, but looking at his brother now, I see the similarities in the shape of his brow and curve of his neck.
That’s where the similarities end, though.
Leo has dark hair and rugged features, and his body is cut similarly to mine.
“Thanks, buddy,” I rasp, my throat still raw from screaming and being out in the cold for so long yesterday.
“How ya feelin’?” He asks, sticking his feet into his shower shoes and tossing a pair of flip-flops at me. I reluctantly push myself up in bed and slide my socked feet into the shoes, wedging the fabric of the socks between my toes well enough to keep the shoes on my feet.
Luckily for me, Leo’s roommate isn’t an athlete, so he left earlier in the week after finishing his last final.
The bed was stripped, but Leo had an extra set of sheets and a blanket for me to use, and I crashed here for the night.
I probably should have gone back to the hotel, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I don’t want to be there, surrounded by people who probably legitimately hate me now.
Who, at the very least, are going to look at me with pity because they now know the intimate details of my family’s private lives.
And I most certainly couldn’t handle being in the same room as Beck.
Leo hands me the extra toothbrush we got from the convenience shop downstairs, and I follow him to the bathroom down the hall.
The suspicious smell and overflowing shower drains remind me just how spoiled I’ve been by the ensuite bathroom I share with only two other people in the fancy apartment-style athletic dorms at Huntston.
Shared, I think, correcting myself. It’s not likely I’ll be staying there any longer. I’ll have to go back to clean out my dorm room and get my car, but I’m probably not a student at Huntston anymore. I knew that before I talked to Coach McCoy last night.
Once I’d been shuffled into the gross communal showers to stand under the hot water for as long as it lasted, I got bundled up in sweats and blankets and told to call my coach.
While I was in the shower, Coach Yeardly, the Nebraska team coach, had called Leo asking if they’d seen me.
I felt bad for making anyone worry, but Coach McCoy was surprisingly calm about everything.
Since my suspension from the team was effective the moment my fist made contact with Pierce’s face, he didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t make my way home on my own if that’s what I wanted.
He even offered to help pay for a plane ticket, but I told him it wasn’t necessary.
Overall, he was incredibly understanding considering I’d decked one of his athletes.
He even told me that he’d advocate for me, but we both know the Jamison family aren’t going to leave any crumbs when they chew me up.
There’s a history between us that all but guarantees it. A precedent that will be maintained.
With one swing of my fist, I threw away everything. My scholarship, and therefore my education. My pride. My peace of mind and the guarantee of a better future.
I won’t include losing Beck. He was lost to me before I threw the punch.
And while my actions are entirely my own, I was actually far more upset with Beck than I was with Pierce.
Pierce just happened to step in front of me to try to stop me from escaping before I broke right there in the middle of the locker room.
My chapped lips burn. I lick them and taste salt. More fucking tears.
I pee, brush my teeth, and wash my face while Leo does the same.
It’s probably a good thing I’m staying with him and not somewhere on my own, I likely wouldn’t have gotten out of bed otherwise.
As it is, I slump back to cover myself in the blanket the moment we get back to Leo’s room.
I’m exhausted. Despite lying in this bed basically since I arrived, I didn’t sleep much.
All I did was stare at the ceiling and cry some more.
I keep replaying the look on Beck’s face, as if I could go back and change it.
If I could, I’d go back. I’d rewind all the way to just before I told him everything. I wanted him to open up to me, and I wanted to do the same. I never imagined he’d tell anyone. Least of all, Pierce fucking Jamison.
What I can’t figure out is why he told him.
You were so fucking obvious, Pierce started asking questions.
Do you have any idea how awkward of a position you put me in with Pierce?
Exactly how did I put him in an awkward position?
I knew I was playing with fire by teasing him, but it was innocent.
I don’t see how my teasing, which was kept just between us, would lead him to spill my secrets to Pierce?
I’d told him the night before that I wouldn’t be able to handle if Pierce found out about my brother and started talking shit about it.
How could he?
I vaguely remember Pierce making a comment about me wanting Beck, but he could deny any interest or involvement with me without feeding me to the wolves.
I just don’t understand.
There’s a knock on the door, and a few seconds later Eric walks in, holding a tray of to-go cups from the campus coffee cart and a bag that probably has pastries in it.
“You ready to—"
“No.”
It comes out harshly, but I don’t have the ability or energy to soften anything right now.
Eric kicks off his shoes and climbs into the bed next to me, snuggling up to my side and rearranging the blanket so it’s around both of us. I want to laugh, because even after seven months of not seeing each other, and barely ever texting, it’s like nothing changed with him.
Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with someone like Eric? Maybe not Eric exactly, because I feel nothing but platonic towards him. But someone like him. Sweet. Affectionate. Not afraid to be themselves.
Wait, what?! Why couldn’t I have…
Fallen…
In…
Love?!?
What the actual fuck, Miller? You can’t just decide you were in love with someone now that you’ve lost them. You’re just tired and emotional. You’re spiraling and need to get a grip.
Except, I knew it was headed that way. I knew I was feeling some sort of way. Even before Thanksgiving, but certainly after…
“You can talk about it if you want to,” Eric whispers. “You don’t have to. But we’re here for you if you’d like to get it off your chest.”
My eyes flick up to Leo, who nods from his desk chair.
“There really isn’t much to say,” I rasp, thankful that it’s mostly true. Technically, there’s a lot that could be said. But most of it isn’t necessary for the overall point to be made. “I screwed up. And I threw everything away.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.”
“I got myself suspended, expulsion pending.”
Leo’s mouth dropped open. “How did that happen?”
“I punched Pierce Jamison in the face. I might have broken his nose, although I tried to pull back as soon as I realized my fist was already flying.”
Eric pulls back. “You punched someone?”