Beg You to Trust Me (Lindon U #2)(105)

He pauses, the silence thick between us. “For how long?”

I don’t answer.

“How long, Skylar?”

I simply shake my head and hear someone approach slowly from behind me.

Ivy. “I’ll make sure she gets back okay,” she tells Danny. She doesn’t touch me, but shows me her hand, pointing toward Aiden’s truck parked in the driveway.

I follow her over to it.

Eyes follow me. Burn into my back.

When we drive away, I feel empty inside.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX





DANNY





My surgery is scheduled for December 22nd, and the only person I really care about telling isn’t speaking to me. Not for my lack of trying, either. Messages have gone unread and unanswered for over a week now making me fucking crazy. If it hadn’t been for Olive telling me she was doing okay when I pulled her aside on my way to class, I would have stormed to her room and demanded she talk to me.

She hasn’t been in film class.

She hasn’t been at Huden.

Caleb and Aiden have held me back from seeking her out. If I hear “give her space” one more time I’m going to slug them both in their faces even if it’s a fight I know that I won’t win.

Ma: Doctor Siegel says your pre-op will be the day before the surgery, so you’ll need to come home right after your last final





I glance at the screen again and grind my teeth. The surgery can’t be held off any longer than I’ve let it go which is the only reason why I agreed to have it a few days before Christmas. But now I need to pack up my shit for the extended winter break even earlier than planned.

I only have a handful of days to try getting Skylar to talk to me—to tell her I’m not ready to give up on us. I don’t want to believe that she thinks I have anything to do with the night of the party. Deep down, I’m sure she doesn’t believe that at all.

Hell, as soon as I got my act together when Ivy drove her to campus, I stripped my bed, threw out my fucking sheets, and started sleeping on the couch in the den. A new mattress was delivered a week ago, but I still can’t find it in myself to sleep in that room. The guys don’t say a word even though my sleeping arrangement has spoiled their video game time.

Despite the hollow way Skylar watched me kneel in the cold grass that day, I recognized the trust she had in me. And that means more than anything else I could ask for.

So, time is what I would give her.

Me: Sounds good Ma





When Pearce drops down into his creaky office chair, he leans back. “Surgery date?”

“End of December.”

“Recovery time?”

I lift the shoulder in question. “At least six weeks plus physio.”

It isn’t like he didn’t expect that, but he still grunts over the news. “We’ll be sad to see you go. Not a great way to end the season.”

No. No, it’s not.

“I know I’ve been hard on you,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “But it’s only because I know you’re capable of more than you let yourself think you are.”

I don’t believe that for a second. “All due respect, sir, but I call bullshit.”

Both his graying brows arch.

“What’s happening with Wallace?” I ask, wondering why he’s out on the field with the others considering what’s going on. I’ve read the handbook—had it thrown at me a few times with threats of consequences if I didn’t get my shit straight in my first couple of years here. I know that what Ricky Wallace is being accused of is grounds for probation. He shouldn’t be participating in any type of athletics.

The guys were all questioned one by one by the police lieutenant, getting statements and information about the parties we’d been to with Wallace. I have no idea what the others said, but I was honest. I never saw him do anything, but I heard a lot of talk from him afterwards. The problem with that is it’s my word against his and nobody at the station seemed inclined to do shit about hearsay.

“He shouldn’t be out there,” I tell Pearce.

“Since when are you the coach?” he asks, offense thick in his words. “You’d better be careful about what you say.”

“Or what? You’ll bench me?” I gesture toward my shoulder. “I’m already out, Coach. Brady is out. Just because Wallace is a decent player doesn’t mean he deserves to be out there playing. There are other guys who can replace him.”

“None nearly as good as—”

“A possible rapist?” I spit.

His eyes narrow. “Watch your tone.”

I lean forward in disbelief. “Do you fucking hear yourself? You care more about winning a game than you do about the reputation of the team.”

“Right now, it’s nothing but gossip.”

My leg starts bouncing. “Are you going to be singing that same tune when the Red Dragons are talked about on ESPN and the nightly news because the team’s coach chose to bury a scandal about its quarterback?” I cock my head as his fists clench under his arms. “It won’t be our stats that they’re highlighting if you sweep this under the rug. If it is true, which knowing Wallace wouldn’t surprise me, then you’re letting a real sketchy motherfucker get away with things nobody should get away with. And for what? Just so you can say you trained another NFL hopeful.”