Page 122 of Play For Me

I think I’m going to be sick.

Jay wraps the ice pack in a dishtowel and hands it to me. The cool temperature immediately feels good on my knuckles, and I close my eyes—but that’s when I see her face the most clearly, so I open them again and try to concentrate on Jay.

“She called you,” I say, more statement than question.

“Texted,” he replies. “Around ten-thirty.”

That would have been hours after she left. Was she worrying about me that whole time? I grip the ice pack tighter, trying not to remember it. Numbness had been better.

“She seems to think something happened to upset you yesterday?”

That pulls me up short. Is that all she’d told him? Had she left out the rest—the way my father spoke to me, the mess with Devon finding out. The way I slowly lost my shit while she stood there, shutting down just because my dad was an asshole, and then finally losing it when she said she’d stop playing soccer for me, when the realization hit me that I was only going to hurt her eventually. Had she left out the way I ended things?

I blow out a breath, trying to focus.

“My dad was here when I got out of classes yesterday.”

Jay goes still. “What. The. Fuck.”

I manage a short, bitter laugh. “That’s what I said.”

“What the hell was he doing here?”

“My parents are trying to buy property from the Ransome family foundation. Apparently, they found out I’ve been working with her in my clinicals. He had this idea I’d introduce him to the Ransomes at a soccer match.”

He shakes his head, swearing under his breath. “Let me guess—they want to use the property to build something expensive and unnecessary?”

I point at him. “You got it. What does the community need with a youth center, right? When Sybil and Brent Barnes could make hundreds of millions building condos.”

“I take it you said no?”

“Of course I fucking said no.”

Jay’s gaze drops down to my hand, his eyes narrowing. “What did he say to you, Solomon?”

“He lost his shit. Faster than usual, actually. I wonder if his control is getting worse as he gets older.” That’s a fun thought. He was already on a hair trigger since before I was born.

“What did he say?” Jay grits out.

“Same old shit. I contribute nothing to the family. I’m a loser and a freak. A mental deficient, I think his exact words were.”

“What?” he burst out. “That’sbullshit.”

I just shrug, and Jay sighs.

“Well, shit. I’m sorry, man.”

“Cecelia came by when he was here. She heard him.”

Jay closes his eyes. “Shit. I know that’s the last thing you would want.”

I readjust the ice pack. “Would have happened eventually either way.”

He tilts his head at me. “What do you mean?”

“She would have found out how fucked up I am,” I explain. “Probably better she saw it sooner than later.”

Later would hurt more. Not that this isn’t killing me, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been falling more in love with Cecelia Ransome every day that I’ve been with her. And it never felt like there was a limit to that—it was never going to run out. The way I felt about her was always going to be continuous, exponential growth.