Chapter 27
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
MADDEN
FRESHMAN YEAR
I rounded the banister in Nash Langdon’s house, which looked like it was straight out of an episode of Cribs. If you asked him for a fridge tour, I’m sure he’d gladly oblige.
I almost snorted. It must be nice to be rich.
I glance around the party. Girls in tiny bikinis. Guys dressed like they walked straight out of American Eagle. I was indeed a long way from the apartments I’d become accustomed to. This was my hell.
A splash of liquid threatened the toe of my vans, but I jumped back before it soaked them. Red solo cups filled the kitchen counter and now the floor.
The upper-level students treated Nash like royalty, and Carson carried a Go Pro around like another appendage. No doubt filming for his YouTube Channel, but careful not to incriminate anyone.
Some of the guys from the team huddled around a table playing beer pong while I walked around looking for my friend, Grady.
He was understanding of the situation and didn’t criticize me for it like my other friends did.
He knew I’d do anything to help my mom. Lucky for me, I could count on him to attend these “mandatory” baseball parties with me.
There was no way I was coming otherwise.
By the time I find Grady, it’s too late. His tongue is already buried deep in some girl’s throat. I decide to go upstairs and find a bathroom that isn’t occupied or covered in vomit.
A couple of the rooms are locked, but when I finally find a door that isn’t, I quickly shut it behind me. Turning into what I assume is Nash’s bedroom by the gaming consoles and baseball trophies scattered about.
Just my luck.
I move into the bathroom to take a piss and wash my hands. I try to hurry because the last thing I want to do is run into Nash, especially in his room.
I hear the floorboards creak beneath my shoes, but a faint sound catches my attention, and I halt, waiting to listen to it again. I hear a cough or a gasp, then shuffling. At first, I think it is in the room next door, but I notice a lock outside the closet door.
Who locks their closet from the outside?
I turn the deadbolt and release the chain lock from the top, turning the knob.
My stomach clenches when I see her. Light brown hair is matted to her head, her fingertips covered in blood. A TV on the wall in the closet is playing some kinky porno.
What the hell?
I move toward her, but the sound of my footsteps startle her.
“Are you okay?” I ask, dropping to a kneel, my hand landing in something wet.
Shit. What is that?
The TV sounds are low but loud enough to hear the panting and moans. She stares at me, afraid to speak.
“It’s okay. I’m here to help.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I unzip my jacket, pulling it over her tiny floral Sunday school dress. Her lifeless body is easy to manipulate. I try to turn the TV off, but it’s useless. He’s made sure that this video didn’t stop.
“How long have you been in here?” I ask, lifting her to her feet. Her entire body shakes with weakness. Unlike someone wanting to escape, she doesn’t run. She stands completely frozen and empty.
I continue to hold her up, taking steps slowly toward the door, trying to think of how I can sneak her out of here. I pull my phone out of my pocket, dialing Grady, but he doesn’t answer, so I dial again.
Two calls means emergency, and he knows it, so I’m not surprised when I hear him on the other end.
“Cause a distraction,” I demand. “I need two minutes, then meet me out back.”
I hear a loud crash and shouting a few seconds later, and I scoop the girl up into my arms.
PRESENT
Lainey didn't speak to anyone for weeks after the closet, and she didn't talk about it for months. That's when I knew Nash was a monster, making an innocent girl pay for something she had no part in. Ever since picking her up off the floor that day, I've never let her down.
It was that specific day I knew that I'd never fit in here. I didn't want to. I may be a great baseball player, but I'd never fit the Legacy image like Nash. In fact, it blew my mind that Carson had his back.
No matter what he'd been through, it was not an excuse for what he did.
That's why I protect her because when she hurts, I'm back in the closet staring at the girl with brown hair, scared and bleeding. It’s not even a romantic thing. I just can’t quit her because she is my addiction.
Whenever it feels like she is drifting away, my skin starts crawling.
I need her just as much as she needs me.
So if Drayton is what she needs right now, that is fine, but it doesn’t mean I am going anywhere. He will never have her like I do.
No one will.
She might not be bleeding anymore, but there is a piece of her that is still broken.
The bell sounds, signaling it's time for lunch, and I grab my bag off the floor. I didn't retain anything from that last class at all because my mind was so occupied with Lainey. I see Cori first, but she looks tired, and her bloodshot eyes give away her lack of sleep.
"Are you okay?" I ask, pushing the glass doors open to the patio and pulling a pack of cigarettes from my pocket.
"Yeah," she smiles, blowing me off.
"Is it Nash?" I ask. "When I told you to play his game better than he did, I didn't mean to kill yourself doing it."
She sighs, "We haven't talked in over a week."
I see her glance inside, girls hanging off of him like he's a fucking coat rack.
"Coach is going to kill him," I state, looking at the black cast covering his wrist.
She laughs, "You think so?"
"I know so. His legs still work, though, so he's screwed. I bet he's throwing up by the end of practice."
Her smile fades, and Lainey and Drayton walk up. My mind plays tricks on me because, at first glance, he almost looks like Nash. Same build, same cocky ass swagger, his hair just a smidge darker. No wonder Nash is so threatened.
Cori smiles, glancing at their hands twisted together, "So how's your first day?"
Drayton beams, looking down at Lainey, "Well, it's better than I thought it'd be."
"Just wait until 3:30," I warn.
"What's at 3:30?" Lainey chirps, hopping onto the wall, Drayton pushing himself comfortably between her legs.
"Baseball practice," I smirk, remembering my first day here. "It's like swimming with sharks."
Drayton laughs nervously, and Lainey rolls her eyes, "What's the big deal anyway? It's just baseball?"
"It's just his funeral," Nash says, walking up at the perfect opportunity. Carson stands at his side, his eyes glued to Cori.
My hate for Nash overpowers my distaste for Drayton, "The only funeral we will be attending is yours when Coach sees that cast and kills you with sprints."
Carson laughs, earning a hateful glare from Nash. Cori stares at him but doesn't move, her feet basically glued into place. She glances down at his black cast. "I have something I need to do," she rambles, grabbing her bag. "I'll catch you guys after school. Are we still on for tonight?"
I shake my head, yes, and she turns away quickly, leaving everyone standing here baffled.
I look between Nash and Carson, both of them watching Cori's back as she walks away.
I'm just trying to figure out which one of them will run after her.
"I'm going to go get my jacket." Nash says to Carson, pretending the rest of us don't exist, "I'll see you at practice. "
Except he isn’t going to get his jacket. We all know where he is going. I can see through this whole pretend hate thing. It's probably just foreplay for him. He probably gets off it.
Carson walks away when Nash does, and the rest of us all stare at each other, an awkwardness between us as we wait to see who will speak first.
"So, what time is Grady coming over?" Lainey asks, snuggling closer to Drayton, who still stands between her legs.
"I don't know. Probably around seven."
"Okay," she nods. "I'm bringing my laptop. I have an idea for that new song you wrote."
She smiles, looking at Drayton, and I sigh, "You can come too if you want."
Proof that I will do anything to make her happy.
Lainey smiles, nudging Drayton with her foot.
"Yeah, alright."
"Your mom didn't give you shit about coming over?" I ask, wondering if she plans on lying.
"Nah, I just told her I'd be hanging out with Dray."
Of course, she's okay with it as long as it's not me. My tattoos and ripped jeans wouldn't look great in her family photos, but Drayton? That's a no-brainer. The clean-cut kid who will probably be a fucking accountant someday? Oh yeah, she's probably already tried photoshopping him in.
Lainey has so much personality, but her parents would never know. They beat it down, treat her like a child, and tell her what's appropriate. We're cut from the same cloth, though. We're fighters.
After school, I slip my sweatshirt over my head, stepping out of the field house and onto the field. Watching Nash run from foul post to foul post brings a smile to my face.
That's what you get, asshole. Everyone else huddles around Coach, waiting for instruction.
"As I'm sure you know, Drayton Lewis is going to be joining us this season.
Everyone grab a throwing partner and warm up.
Things are going to be a little bit different today," Coach T looks to Nash's arm, shaking his head.
"Carson, I want you to use the bands and stretch, maybe do some drills.
Drayton, go to the bullpen. Madden, you throw on Nash's gear and catch for him. Let's go!"
He points to the sky, twirling his finger in a circular motion telling everyone to get going.
I grab Nash's gear and strap it on, pulling his catcher's mask down over my face.
Coach Clark watches Drayton pitch, scribbling in a notebook.
His pitching is crazy accurate, but he's not as fast as Carson because his arm just isn't as strong.
He tries to throw harder, his pitches going wild, making me chase them.
"You guys keep going," Coach Clark says. "I'm going to make sure Coach T doesn't kill Nash."
I've never seen Coach so pissed. Nash has been walking on thin ice with him for a while.
"How about you slow down and get it in my glove this time?" I tell Drayton.
He rolls his eyes, tossing the ball to me slowly.
"You know what I mean, jackass. You can throw it eighty miles an hour, but that doesn't mean shit if it's not a strike."
He throws a few more, finding his rhythm again. He's a good pitcher, and he'll improve with the coaching at Legacy. He glances at Carson, the jealousy basically radiating off of him.
"He's not gonna just give you his spot. You do know that, right? If you want it, you're gonna have to take it. Earn it."
He sighs, sending another one into my glove, faster than the one before, "Let's not pretend that you don't worship Carson like the rest of the people in Legacy Bay."
I laugh because he's so off base with that comment.
"I don't worship anyone. It was easy to dislike you because you played for the rival team, but you're here now. You're on my team, dating my best friend, going to my school. You're here, and I can live with it. Plus, our mutual hate for Nash Langdon makes us outsiders."
Drayton's lips tilt upward, "I'm not here to make friends. I don't want to be a Shark."
"I'm not a shark," I snap, tossing him the ball back.
He snorts, "That's what Lainey said to me the night I met her."
I stand up, pulling the mask off my face onto the top of my head, "The sharks." I warn, looking over to Nash, "Will be the least of your problems if you do anything to hurt her. I'm worse than a shark."
He pulls my mask back down over my face, "I like Lainey a lot. I don't want to do anything to hurt her."
Good. Maybe we could be friends after all. Well, at least not enemies.
Do I trust him? No.
Do I think he's a monster like Nash? Also, no.
He's not a threat.
When practice is over, we all grab our shit from the field house, but Nash is still running, stopping every little bit to dry heave.
"You coming over?" I ask Drayton. "Lainey won't be there for an hour or so, but you can follow me if you want. Unless you have something better to do."
He pulls the door open on his Jeep, "Nah, sounds good. Let's go."
We pull up outside my house, my mom's car still missing from the driveway. She must be working late at the station. She's been doing that a lot lately. "Saving money for college," she claims. But she's delusional if she thinks I'm going to college.
I pull the mail out of the mailbox, flipping through the stack. Mostly kitchen table bills, ones that will sit there until they're nearly late, but a pink envelope catches my eye.
A.Sinclair.
Drayton walks in the door behind me, and I shove the letter into my pocket. I set everything down on the kitchen table like it's no big deal and kick the front door shut with my foot.
"I'll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom," I lie, shutting myself in and locking the door behind me.
I pull the letter from my pocket, careful not to rip it as I pull it open.
The white-lined paper isn't covered in words, but the purple ink is delicate, and each curve of the letters reminds me of her.
Madden,
I lied to you.
When you asked if I was okay, I lied.
When the doctors asked me if I tried to hurt myself, I lied.
For a split second, I thought I could make it stop. I wanted it to end. The pain. The lies.
I wanted to die because I already felt dead. Dead inside.
And this place, it's my hell.
It smells like a hospital.
The medication messes with my head.
The nurses treat me like I’m crazy.
Everyone looks at me like I'm some kind of alien. How could a pretty, rich girl land herself in here?
My dad left me here and walked away like it was nothing, like it was just another errand to check off his list.
I miss my room.
I miss my mom.
I miss you.
Avery