Broken Beautiful Hearts(10)

“Hey. I came out to find you,” he says as I walk up the steps. “Tess said you went out to the car.”

He’s smiling.

I’m not.

I look around. This isn’t a conversation I want to have in front of an audience, but I don’t see anyone nearby. The retaining wall separates the stairs from the driveway and tall hedges block the view to the house.

Reed tries to put his arm around me, but I walk past him.

“Are you still pissed off about dinner on Thursday?” he asks.

“We need to talk.” I’m not ready for this conversation. It’s like standing on the edge of a swimming pool when you know the water is freezing. You just have to jump. “I found something in your car when I was looking for my phone.”

I reach into my jacket pocket. Reed’s skin pales when he sees the box. I hold it out between us, resisting the urge to chuck it at him.

“That’s not mine.”

I wave the box in front of him. “It was in your bag.”

“TJ needed somewhere to put it.” Reed looks everywhere but at me. “It’s his.”

“If you’re going to lie, you should look the person in the eye when you’re doing it.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. Tell me the truth or I’m going to walk away and I will never speak to you again.” He opens his mouth to say something and I point at him. “Never.”

I pace in front of the retaining wall, toying with my dog tags.

Reed glances over his shoulder, checking to make sure no one is around. “I can explain.”

This is really happening.

“I needed to put on some muscle fast. The guy I’m fighting in a few weeks outweighs me by fourteen pounds. I was going to stop after the fight. But I need this win to make it into the tournaments coming up if I want to book bigger fights.” He’s talking fast and pleading with me with his big blue eyes. “And what if Tess doesn’t get a scholarship? She’ll need money for tuition. If I don’t attract some attention and get a sponsor, I won’t be able to help her.”

“Don’t use Tess as an excuse. If you get caught, you’ll be banned from competing altogether.”

“Nobody will find out.” He sounds so casual about it, like I caught him with a beer.

“Really? What if they test you?”

“They never test at this level unless someone gets reported or caught on-site. And I’m careful.”

I exhale dramatically. “Well, that changes everything. I didn’t realize how much thought you had put into cheating and pumping your body full of poison. I feel soooo much better now.”

Reed’s jaw muscles twitch. “It’s not really cheating. I still have to win in the cage.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” I shove the box against his chest. “Take this. I don’t want to touch it for another second.”

Reed crams the box in the pocket of his cargo jacket, as if I’ll forget it exists if it’s out of sight.

“You’ve been lying to me for … how long, Reed? Two months? Or longer?”

“I told you I’m gonna stop.”

“When?”

He rubs his hands over his face. “Soon.”

I expected him to say now and beg me to forgive him—or help him. “Not good enough.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you have to choose right now. Me or the drugs.” I watch him and wait for him to make the right choice and pick me. But the longer he doesn’t say anything, the more my heart breaks. What happened to the boy who brought me mashed potatoes every day for a week after I had my wisdom teeth removed? The boy I gave every part of myself to?

It doesn’t matter.

He’s gone.

“I just need a little more time,” he says finally.

“You made your choice. We’re over.” Saying the words hurts even though I’m the person saying them.

He presses his palms against his temples. “Okay. This is a lot for you to take in. But don’t throw away the last seven months.”

“You threw them away.”

“A couple of months. That’s all I need. After the tournaments I’ve got coming up I’ll stop. I swear.”

A minute ago he said he’d stop in a few weeks. Now it’s a couple of months?

“You don’t have to make me any promises, Reed. This relationship is over. I don’t want a boyfriend who chooses drugs over me.”

The color drains from his face. “You’re pissed and you need some time to think,” he says, in the soothing tone he uses when I lose a soccer game. “We should talk after you calm down. I’ll take you home.”

“There’s nothing left to talk about. I’ll get a ride from Lucia.”

I try to walk around him, but Reed steps in front of me. “Are you running away from me?”

The accusation pisses me off. “Running? I’m not even walking fast. You’re paranoid. That garbage is screwing with your head. And I don’t run from anyone. I’m walking away because there’s nothing left to say.”

“Why are you being such a bitch?”

He did not just call me a bitch.