By the ti I get finished with the post-ga interviews, I’m fucking frantic.
I can see from the field that the family box is empty. Lights out. The stands have cleared.
There is only one place where people are congregating—the ho team sideline—and I swear to Christ, if the security team allowed Stella down here, I’m going to tear a hole in the sky. There is alcohol and groupies riding on the shoulders of my teammates. Even the coaches are acting like fools, singing and guzzling champagne straight from the bottle. When I arrive at the impromptu gathering, everyone goes wild, cheering, slapping on the back and taking pictures of with their phones. But I don’t give a shit about any of it. I’m glad we won the ga. I’m relieved I lived up to expectations and I feel so closure with my father’s death, but the only person I want to celebrate with is Stella.
And there is no sign of my sweet girlfriend anywhere.
Don’t panic.
Don’t panic.
I arrived at the ga too late to talk to my teammates. I need to explain to them how important Stella is to . This is my chance. Stella is sowhere safe with the security team, so I can take two minutes to straighten out the story. Then I can stop having nightmares about her finding out. Just two minutes and I can go find her—
I stop dead in my tracks when the mbers of Stella’s security team appear on the fringes of the crowd. Without Stella.
The helt slips from my fingers.
“Where is she?” I roar, my heart rocketing up into my mouth.
Silence lands around like a shower of bricks.
Panic like I’ve never experienced slices into like knives. I’m halfway toward the security guards before I realize I’ve moved. They back away from , holding their palms out. I must appear deranged. Good. That’s exactly what I am. They weren’t supposed to leave her side. They weren’t even supposed to leave the family box. What the hell is going on?
“Answer . Now,” I growl through my teeth. “Where is my girl? Where is she?”
One of them steps forward, visibly nervous. “She ran off, Mr. Weston. We chased her, but she got a head start and it was too dark to see which direction she went.”
Ice forms on every inch of my body. Dizziness grips . “Why would she...” My voice is weak. I barley have the power to form words. “Why would she run?”
Sohow I already know the answer.
I know what’s coming.
And all I can do is stand on the tracks and wait for the train to mow down. Because I deserve this. I was careless and idiotic and now I’m going to pay with my life.
“I don’t want to get involved in your personal business,” mutters the guard. “But one of your teammates...I overheard him saying so things to her.”
“You weren’t supposed to allow anyone to talk to her!” I bellow, ripping off my jersey. My shoulder pads. I’m being suffocated. Oh God, she’s off sowhere alone. She’s run away, hurt. I’ve lost her. I’m going to die. I want to die.
“He might have hinted that your relationship with her isn’t...genuine.”
That’s the final blow.
I drop down to my knees, pitch forward and lose the contents of my stomach.
Sounds no longer penetrate my ears. The world is blurry around . I squeeze my eyes closed and all I can see is Stella’s beautiful face. How she’d cry if she thought I’d been lying to her. Please, no. Please don’t let this be happening. A single one of her tears is agony. Unacceptable.
I have to go find her, but my legs aren’t working.
Pull it together.
She’s out there sowhere in the darkness.
She could be in danger.
It’s the fear of her being hard that pulls out of my delirium. Enough to stumble to my feet and whirl around. “Which one of you spoke to Stella?” I shout raggedly. “Who was it?”
Because yes, this situation is totally my fault.
But there is no doubt in my mind the information wasn’t passed on to Stella with good intentions. Soone wants what is mine. Rage boils over inside of . Helpless fucking rage.
No one answers , but I’m their quarterback. I’m their team captain. It’s my job to read their body language. So when one of my receivers ducks back into the shadows, I go after him like a bull chasing a matador. He makes it two steps before I’m on top of him, flipping him over and delivering a right cross to his petrified face. Blood sprays from his nose and he tries to swing back, but I evade him and throw another punch. Harder. Shouting obscenities through my teeth. Fully prepared to choke the life out of him.
“You did this, man,” he says, spitting blood into the grass. “All I did was tell her the truth.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I respond, my voice cracking.
He’s right. I don’t want to hear it, though.
Stella. Stella. Stella, I’m sorry.
“Think I’ve got a chance with her now?” taunts the receiver, lashing out in his embarrassnt over having his ass handed to him in front of a crowd. “Tell the truth. She’s all cute and innocent in the streets, but she rides it nasty in the sheets, doesn’t she?”
I knock him out cold.
There is no word for the mixture of terror and rage inside of . I’m sick to my stomach. I’m scared she’s in danger. I’m destitute without her. I hate myself.
Teeming with the sharpest edges of these emotions, I turn and run for the locker room. I have to get the keys to my truck. I have to go find her. Now. Now. Right the hell now. I’ll explain everything and I’ll apologize until she forgives . There is no other option. I can’t live without Stella. I don’t want to. People call my na, but I hear next to nothing, save the rapid pounding of my heart. A heart that will stop beating without her.
In nothing but football pants and cleats and pouring sweat, I peel out of the parking lot minutes later, racing ho. Hurtling through the entrance and shouting her na. She’s not there, though. She’s not there. Only her addicting scent. Battling the crippling disappointnt, I struggle to think for a minute, then drive my truck back to campus and search her old dorm room while her roommate babbles at and takes selfies with in the background.
Not here.
Where is she?
Where...
And then I know.
I know exactly where to find her.
My blood runs ice cold.
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