Page 52 of Love Hate

Trevor stepped out of the bathroom then and Caitlyn narrowed her gaze at him, puffing up her chest like she was about to start yelling.

“Stop!” I screamed. “Just stop. Fucking both of you. I can’t take it. It was a fight. Neither of you did it and neither of you need to fucking take care of me. I’m a goddamned adult that can make my own decisions. Now kindly, fuck the fuck off. Both of you.”

I walked into my bedroom and slammed the door, flipping the lock to keep either of them from following me in. I was in so much pain I wanted to vomit and I couldn’t keep doing ten rounds of who did this to you with them.

Sinking to the floor I grabbed my garbage can and finally gave in, emptying my stomach into the bag as pain flared even more from the muscle movement of puking.

I threw up until I couldn’t anymore and fell over on my side, tears burning paths down my cheeks, my kidneys, throat and stomach on fire, and for the very first time, I feared that Mark might actually try to kill me.

“Andy,” Caitlyn called quietly from the other side of the door. “Trevor’s gone. Will you please let me in?”

I forced myself to sit up, tying off the garbage bag and pulling on a pair of sweats before opening the door.

“I’m not going to ask,” she promised me. “But I’d like you to let me take you to the urgent care.”

“Okay,” I agreed, turning back to put on a shirt and a pair of shoes.

“Thank you,” she said, sniffing softly. “Just one thing, and I promise I’ll drop it.”

“What?” I was too sore and too tired to argue anymore.

“Trevor swears he didn’t do this to you and I just need to know that he isn’t lying to me.”

“I promise you, it wasn’t him,” I told her firmly.

“Okay then,” she said, walking out of my room and grabbing my keys from the table. “Let’s go. You look like shit.”

Well, it was nice to know I looked exactly how I felt.

Chapter Twenty-Five

~Trevor~

Caitlyn had texted me Monday night to let me know that Andy had let her take him to a doctor, and I was so fucking grateful to her that I could have cried.

I hadn’t wanted to leave, but she’d insisted that I go and that Andy wasn’t going to agree to go anywhere as long as I was in the apartment.

I’d spent the whole night tossing and turning, trying to figure out who would want to hurt him. Other than me, but that was totally different. It just didn’t make any sense. And while I respected his desire to fight his own battles, he clearly hadn’t given up much of a fight.

I spent all day Tuesday wanting to text him, but not wanting to upset him. Finally, just before afternoon practice, he reached out to me.

And he fucking apologized.

I typed out several long winded, angry messages back to him, deleting each one because he didn’t need to be attacked by me as well. But he certainly had nothing to fucking apologize for.

It was insane that he could be so strong and yet so weak at the same time. Then again, he was my Hamlet. Making himself miserable every chance he got. Trying to lead two completely separate lives at the same time. Insane Andy who still believed he wanted to become priest. And sane Andy that, hath, of late, made many tenders of affection to me.

Though he probably would categorize those the other way around.

Eventually I just settled for asking him if I could stop by and check on him after practice. Which thankfully, he agreed to.

Because I was going over there whether he wanted me to or not.

Thankfully practice was early, and hopefully would run short. I’d have to make sure that I was on my game so I didn’t get held after by Coach Tine.

Most of the day’s practice was setting up drills, not running routes, so we were able to stay in our street clothes, which was nice. Less time I had to spend at the field.

The team met on the grass, sitting down around Coach Tine as he showed various plays on his tablet. Mark was sitting across from me, instead of next to me like he usually did, but that was fine. He’d been acting so weird since this thing had started with Andy, I didn’t really care where he sat.