My jaw tightens. “I’m not.”

“Don’t argue with me. You’re my nephew. I know you better than your own damn father does. I know you’re taking something. Whatever it is, you need to stop. Taking pills not medically prescribed for you is wrong.” Disappointment radiates from him in waves. “It makes you a cheater, Brody. Is that how you want to get ahead? By cheating?”

My lips press together. Patrick is making a mountain out of a molehill. A couple of pills is not drug abuse, nor is it cheating. Not when I’m behind the eight ball to start with. All Adderall has ever done is offer me the fair chance that being dyslexic never did.

“Damn it all to hell, Brody!” he growls when I remain tightlipped. “You’re a college athlete. A football star. Hundreds of thousands of fans think you walk on goddamn water. What would they think if they knew?”

“It was just a couple of pills,” I tell him. But it wasn’t just a couple. My hands shook when I opened the bottle this morning and found it almost empty. I don’t even remember taking that many. “For study. That’s all. No more.”

My uncle returns to his seat, his sigh deep and heavy. He looks at me, and judging by his expression I know he wants to believe in me, to give me the benefit of the doubt that I simply don’t deserve. “Promise me that’s it.”

I look him in the eye and I lie. I don’t have a choice. I won’t get through the next few days without taking more, not now with this extra case work to deal with. It lets me see everything in color, get shit done, and feel great while doing it. Right now it’s my savior. My ace in the hole. My motherfucking touchdown.

I need it.

After a full day of training and watching play, I slide inside my SUV, my body bruised and aching. I toss my phone onto the passenger seat. It lands on the folder my uncle gave me this morning. Two case assignments. Both will take multiple hours each to research and complete. I know I’m lucky being given the chance to make up my grade, but bitterness fills me anyway. What comes easy for everyone else is ten times harder for me. I want it to be over, but I have one more semester to complete before I can graduate. And I have to graduate. My father prides himself on being a man who always follows through with his threats.

Jamming the keys in the ignition, I start the engine. Now that I’m physically sitting down, exhaustion overwhelms me. It’s been thirty-six hours since I last slept. My body is crashing hard. I tip my head back and close my eyes, just for a minute.

A rap on my window rouses me with a jolt. Swiping a hand across my face, I use the other to depress the button. Cool air rushes in, doing its best to wake me and failing.

“Coach,” I slur, my voice too weak to say more.

“Madden.” His brow furrows as he ducks his head, looking in at me. “You okay, son?”

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Good.” Coach nods. He knows he’s been pushing us beyond hard. For him our fatigue is a badge of honor. “You’re on curfew. Get home.”

My phone buzzes as I pull out of the parking lot. I ignore it. My calls and messages of late are all junk: sponsors wanting to talk brands, agents providing unsolicited advice on my future career in the NFL. It should get me excited, but I don’t have time to appreciate the position I’m in right now, nor sit back and appreciate how far I’ve come. All I can do is focus on each day as it comes, and maybe, hopefully, I’ll come out unscathed on the other side.

After packing a bag, I take one more pill before shoving the bottle inside it, hiding it beneath a pile of gym gear. Done, I head back to my car, tugging my phone out as I jog down the stairwell to let Jordan know I’m on my way.

A message from Jax sits on the screen. It lists the address of a frat house well-known for it’s back-to-back to parties.

Jax: Dude. You need to get here, pronto.

I shake my head, not bothering to reply. Instead I turn my phone on silent. My cousin knows I’m on curfew. He also knows I’m back with Jordan, so why would I want to be partying the night before a big game?

Beeping the locks, I open the passenger door of my SUV and dump my bag. My phone vibrates with another message as I walk around the front to the driver’s side.

Cursing under my breath, I check the screen, my brow furrowing. Jax again, sending a photo. Keys jangling in my hand, I pause by the door and flick it open. My eyes strain, making out the dark figures. The moment I realize what I’m seeing, my heart begins to pound a furious beat, slamming so hard against my ribcage it hurts.

I reach breakneck speed getting to the party, taking corners too fast, tires squealing. Leaving my car double-parked, I make my way inside, silently fuming. I move through partygoers, guys giving me backslaps left and right, hitting me with advice on how they think I can improve my game. I dodge them all as I search for my cousin.

When my eyes find Jax, he’s leaving the kitchen for the backyard, Damien right behind him. I shout his name, pushing through people to reach him. He turns, relief lighting his face like neon when he sees me. It only ties my stomach in tighter knots.

“Where is she?” I ask when I get close, my voice harsh.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. They both disappeared.”

They.

My stomach churns. The image of her and Kyle, heads bent close together, so intimate, is burned on my brain. The faint smile on her face is soft and tempting, and one that should be meant only for me.

Jordan

After checking two previous parties, I find Kyle at the third one, drunk off his face.

Good. This is going to be a walk in the park.

Angling myself in his line of sight, I wait for him to notice me. He does. His eyes lift and scan the room, doing a double-take and coming back to me. He looks around, seeking out Brody. When he doesn’t see him, his eyes shift back to me with purpose, and he makes his way toward me. I knew he would. Any opportunity to get me onside and piss off Brody is one he’s going to take.

“Jordan,” he says, reaching my side. I force a smile to my lips. “You’re off leash tonight I see.”

Har, har, you tool.

Knowing I need to keep this believable, I roll my eyes. It would rouse suspicion if I suddenly began fawning over whatever it is he thinks makes him so much better than everyone else.

“Drink?”

I shrug. “Sure, okay.”

Kyle tips his head toward the kitchen. “Follow me.”

After handing me a cup of beer, he grins, swaying slightly. “So where’s Brody tonight? Is he sitting at home waiting for you, or did you finally see the light and ditch the dumb fuck?”

Oh, I am going to nail your goddamn ass to the wall.

“We’re on a break.”

Kyle’s brows rise as he leans back against the counter behind him, using it to prop him upright. “Well, I sure am sorry to hear that,” he replies, his expression telling me he’s anything but.

I cast my eyes down because I can’t stand looking at him. Not that he notices. With Kyle drunk, it’s easy to engage him in meaningless conversation, slowly drawing it around to the teacher aide work he does with Professor Draper. A subtle ego stroke never hurts. “The professor’s a busy man. You must do a lot of hard work for him.”

“I do.” Kyle cocks his head. “Hey, I have to use the bathroom.” His eyes scan the room slowly. “It’s a bit wild in here tonight. Come with me?” He winks. “I’ll keep you safe.”

In hindsight, it’s the exact moment the player became the played, but my mind doesn’t register anything except what I came to do. All I want is to catch Kyle in his web of deceit and fix the grade he sabotaged. “Okay. Thanks.”