The Locker Room(35)

I take the beer from him but hold the bottle at my side, not in the mood to drink. Give me five minutes when the bitterness of the night starts to kick in.

“I think I might punch someone,” I say, clenching my fist at my side, my anger starting to boil over. “Fuck, I don’t understand. I’ve done everything right. I get that her boyfriend was a dick and I sort of remind her of him, but fuck, I’m a goddamn different person. She should at least give me a chance to show that.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what to say, man,” Carson replies while pulling a sip from his bottle. “Hey, aren’t those her friends?”

“What?” My head snaps to where Carson is pointing. Sure enough, Lindsay and Dottie are gathered by the beer pong table, laughing and having a jolly fucking time.

Does that mean Emory’s here?

I whip my phone out again, but there’s nothing.

“Is she here? Did I miss her?”

“Nah, Brock would have told me. He’s manning the door. I told him to text me when she got here so I could let you know. He said he hasn’t seen her.”

“Motherfucker.” I grind down on my teeth. “What the hell. So her friends came but she didn’t? Hell . . . now I’m pissed.” I start to walk toward my room to give Emory a piece of my mind when Carson grabs my shoulder, stopping me in place.

“This was what I was talking about at practice. Take a deep breath and try to think about this rationally. Maybe there’s a reason she’s not here.”

“Other than her stringing me along? I’m a fucking moron.”

“Dude, seriously, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down.” I shrug my shoulder away. “She should have at least said she wasn’t coming.” I pull on my hair and look over at her friends. “I’m going to get answers.”

“Don’t do it, Knox.”

But it’s too late. I’m already headed in their direction, anger simmering at the base of my skull, tensing my shoulders and clenching my jaw.

“Ladies,” I say in greeting. They both turn around and when they make eye contact with me, both of their mouths fall open and they cringe at the same time. That’s a weird reaction.

I go to ask where Emory is when Dottie presses her hand against my forearm. “Holy shit, we completely forgot to tell you. Oh my God, Emory is going to kill us, you can’t tell her.”

“Tell her what?” I ask, my emotions rocketing from pure anger to concerned curiosity.

“She wanted us to send you a message when we got here. She has a migraine and couldn’t make it.”

And concern turns to anger again.

Lame fucking excuse.

“That’s the best she could do? A migraine? She could have at least faked breaking her leg or something. Given me an excuse a little more memorable.”

They exchange glances and then Lindsay says, “No, she really has a migraine. She gets chronic migraines. They take her out. Ever since middle school. She can’t move and or open her eyes. She lies in darkness, waiting for it to subside.”

“Sure.” I roll my eyes. “Tell her I hope she gets better.”

I go to walk away when a hand pulls on me. I turn to find Dottie pleading with me. “We’re not lying, Knox.” She holds a keycard out to me. “Go see for yourself. She’s in complete darkness right now.”

I eye the keycard. “How do I know you won’t text her the minute I leave?”

They both reach into their pockets and hand me their phones. “Knox, please don’t give up on her. Her stupid-ass boyfriend was an absolute bastard, and he hurt her, so yeah, she’s guarded. We lost her for a few years, and would tell you to fuck off if we didn’t think you were good for her,” Lindsay says. “Take our phones, give them to one of your teammates, and when you see we’re not lying, you can text him to give them back. She’s really sick right now.”

“Threw up twice already,” Dottie adds. “Something I’m sure she doesn’t want you to know. It was so bad she couldn’t have any lights on, so she asked us to tell you she couldn’t make it. We got a little distracted and that’s on us, we’re so sorry, but please don’t be mad at her. She wanted to be here. She even picked out a cute skirt to wear. She was coming, Knox, she really was.”

Shit.

I think they’re telling the truth.

I drag my hand through my hair again and check the time on my watch. “How long has she been alone?”

“An hour at least. We got here a little late.”

“Shit. Okay.” I take the keycard and pocket it. “Suite three ten, right?”

“Yes.” When I go to walk away, Dottie says, “Don’t you want our phones?”

I shake my head. “No, I trust you.”

I take off toward my room, stuff a bunch of shit in my backpack, zip it up, and pocket my car keys. Looks like I’m spending my night in the dorms, something I haven’t done since I was a freshman, but the choice to be next to Emory, especially when she needs someone in her corner? No-brainer.





Chapter Fourteen





EMORY





Deep breaths.

Just like that.

With a face mask over my eyes, I roll to the side and let out a long breath, trying not to get nauseous from the movement. But my hip is hurting from being on my left for so long that I need to rotate, slowly.