It’s not until I return to the apartment later that night that I remember to switch my phone back on. There are two messages from Leah, one from Nicky, and one from my agent, marked urgent. I ignore them all in favor of the newest message sitting in bold from Brody.

Brody: I luv u like a couch potato luvs his remote.

How many of these does he have? My phone dings again as I’m mid-giggle. I open his next one.

Brody: I luv u like the sun luvs the day.

That one makes me sigh, and before I can stop myself my fingers are on the keys typing a response.

Jordan: You got me in trouble.

Brody: She speaks!

Jordan: Coach threatened to flush my phone down the toilet.

Walking to my bedroom, I shut the door behind me. Climbing on the bed, I shove pillows behind my back and curl my legs up close.

Brody: Nooo! Tell him if he breaks ur ph I’ll break his face.

Jordan: Sure. Because violence is always the answer.

Brody: It is when someone comes between me getting to talk to u.

Jordan: That’s the problem though, right? You never really TALK to me.

After leaving the ball in his court, I wait for ten minutes, using the time to scroll through Facebook, liking and commenting on various pictures. But Brody doesn’t respond. Bitter disappointment fills my mouth. I slap my phone down on the bedside table. He always does this. Draws me back in, but only so far before he slams that invisible wall down so hard my teeth clack together.

Grabbing a clean towel, I shove my bedroom door open and head for the bathroom. Dani’s occupying the full length of the sofa, caught in the throes of a Nice Girls marathon. Ha! Maybe if she pays attention it might give her some pointers.

“There’s no hot water,” she calls out, her lips stretched in a smile of mock sympathy.

“I don’t care,” I retort, even though I do. I’m not so tough that cold showers don’t make me squeal like a kid, but maybe the cold water will cool my temper.

It doesn’t. I stomp back to my room, and after snapping a brush through my hair, I stomp to the kitchen. Taking my caramel chunk ice cream carton from the freezer, I rip off the lid, grab a spoon, and head back to my sanctuary.

“You’ll get fat,” Dani warns as I move through the living room.

I stop dead and stare. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” she replies, taking me literally. “Have you read how many calories are in that carton?”

After careful consideration, I decide against emptying said calories on her head. My ice cream is too precious. Pinching my lips, I keep moving. When I reach my room she calls out, “What did he do now?”

With an irritated growl, I shut the door behind me. Setting the carton on my bedside table, I see a message from Brody waiting on the screen of my phone. I snatch it up.

Brody: So lets talk.

Dropping to the edge of my bed, I’m tapping out a reply when he sends another.

Brody: Skype?

I set my phone down and grab my laptop off my desk, bringing it to bed with me. Resting it on my thighs, I open the lid and sign in.

Jordan: Good to go.

Moments later the call comes in. I hit answer and wait for the video to kick in. When Brody comes on screen, I stare for a moment. He’s wearing his ball cap backwards and stubble lines his cheeks. His face is tanned, so I know he’s spending all his time outside training. Despite the rough edges, he looks fit and healthy, not at all like someone addicted to drugs. Aren’t they supposed to be pale and thin? Unable to function? If the pills hadn’t come to light, would I have ever known?

Brody grins when I appear, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Babe,” is all he says. Then the background behind him starts shifting. He has the laptop and he’s walking with it. “Sorry. My laptop was in the living room.” The image bounces as he jogs up the stairs and walks into his room. After setting the laptop on the bed, he flops down in front of it.

“You look so good,” I say, trying to hide my surprise.

“And you look so damn edible.” Brody’s eyes roam over me, darkening. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “I like that shirt you’re wearing,” he adds. I glance down. It’s an old shirt, worn for maximum comfort. “But it would look better on the floor.”

Brody

The sound of her laughter floods my body with warmth. “Jordan, I—”

She leans forward expectantly and my words break off. Lifting my cap, I toss it away, scrunching fingers through my hair. I promised Jordan I’d talk and now I don’t know what to say.

She speaks for me. “I miss you.” My heart gives a sharp pang. Her mouth tilts at the corners as she adds, “I miss you like a squirrel misses his nuts.”

My laugh feels bittersweet. “You liked those?”

Jordan holds up her thumb and forefinger to the screen until they’re an inch apart. “Just a little bit.”

I smile faintly. It wavers and silence falls. Not an awkward one, but one where the cold reality of what I’ve done sits between us. I know it will only get worse until I give Jordan the explanation she deserves.

I draw a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “You know I told you I’d do whatever it takes to be the best. Well …” I press my lips together.

Jordan draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. I know the gesture. She’s subconsciously protecting herself, expecting what I say to hurt.

“They made me better.”

“The drugs?”

I nod my head in answer. “They did for me what I couldn’t do myself.”

“Brody—”

I cut her off. “Don’t.” Pity or meaningless platitudes is the last thing I need to hear right now. “It’s the truth. When I was seven years old, my father said to me ‘you’re too damn stupid to do anything else so you better make football count,’ and I believed him.” An intense burning pain spreads through my chest—strong enough to take my breath away. “Only I couldn’t even do that.”

Jordan shakes her head vigorously. “You can. You never believed in yourself, Brody.” Her lips press in a thin line. “It all started with that bloody midterm. If Kyle hadn’t messed with your paper, you would have passed, and none of this would have ever happened!”

“It would have,” I admit both to her and to myself. “You’re right, Jordan. I never believed in myself. If I did I would have questioned my grade. I’d have never taken the Adderall. And maybe I wouldn’t have hidden my dyslexia like a shameful secret. Instead, I put myself in a position where I couldn’t find a way out,” I say quietly. “I pushed, and pushed, and I took drugs, but it got me where I needed to be. Is this what it takes to make football count?” I stare down at my hands, absentmindedly rubbing the callouses on my left palm. “Because it fucking sucks.” My eyes lift and deep cracks form in my heart, making me crave the euphoric numbness that Percocet always gives me. “I’m losing you, and—

Jordan cuts me off. “You’re not losing me, Brody.”

“Are you sure about that? I’ve already lost my little sister. I can’t lose you too.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “Annabelle?”

A scowl forms on my face. “Dad won’t let me see her.”

“Since when?”

“Since I gave Kyle Davis what he had coming.” My jaw tightens and my tone turns bitter. “I’m a bad influence. They don’t want me anywhere near Annabelle.”

Jordan’s voice trembles with hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I don’t want you exposed to them!” I sit up on the bed, swiping a hand down my face. “I’ve tried so hard to keep you separate from my family. You don’t want anything to do with them, Jordan. Trust me. My parents aren’t warm like you are. There’s no love. Or joy. It was like growing up inside a cold, barren wasteland. When they look at me, they don’t see me. They see disappointment.” My lips press together. I focus my eyes on the wall above the screen of the laptop. “And I keep pushing you away because …” My words die off, my body growing tense as I force myself to look at her. “I don’t want you to see me the same way.”