“No,” he agrees slowly.

I sigh, wrenching open my car door. “Just let me know when you find him. I…” My voice almost breaks. I keep it together with sheer force of will. “I need to talk to him.”

“Will do,” Drew says quietly. Then hangs up.

Sitting in the little car that still carries Gray’s scent, I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel. My nails dig into the puffy, pink grips as my breathing accelerates. I won’t cry. I won’t. But a sob breaks free.

I cry myself dry in the car where it all began.

* * *

Gray

I’ve got to go back. I need Ivy, and Ivy needs me. But I can’t seem to make myself move. I’ve been working out for hours, until my body gave out on me. Sitting on the floor of the team-gym showers isn’t productive, but the scent of bleach and deodorant is familiar. Safe.

It’s quiet now, the gym long since closed. So I sit, curled up in a corner, asking myself what the fuck I’m doing. No answers come. Only this sick, fucked-up fear and the need to curl in on myself and shut everything out.

Some distant voice in my head tells me I’m losing my shit in a big, bad way. On the field, I’m a fighter. I never give up. I have got to get my head in this. But everything is silent, numb.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

I jump at the voice. My head is heavy as a rock when I lift it to find Drew in the doorway. I can’t seem to say a word. His cast thuds on the floor as he walks over. Slowly, he lowers himself next to me, his broken leg stretched out in front of him.

He doesn’t say anything, just sits close enough to press his shoulder against mine. And I remember. The night his parents died, I’d hunted him down, found him in the locker room of his school gym. I’d sat with him as he quietly lost it on my shoulder.

The memory works like a ball snap. All the terror and panic I’d been holding down rushes up. “Fuck,” I choke out, pressing my fists against my forehead as I bring my knees to my chest. “Fuck.”

Drew’s shoulder pushes harder against mine. “What’s going on, Gray?”

There’s a clump of pain inside my throat the size of a baseball. I push past it. “Ivy. She had a lump…” I take a harsh breath. “On her… And I remembered Mom. When she told me about the lump and how she— Fuck.”

I can’t breathe. I’m choking on my fear, my body shuddering. I don’t know when Drew put his arm around my shoulders. But he’s hugging me to his side. And it all pours out of me in the form of tears and snot. Not my best moment.

But Drew doesn’t care. He remains silent and lets me do what I need to.

“I can’t do this with Ivy,” I rasp. “I can’t see her…” Shit, I’m going to lose it again.

Drew’s grip goes hard. “You don’t know what’s going on with Ivy.”

I don’t, because I can’t handle knowing. But I can’t seem to handle not knowing, either. I have never run from adversity, and yet I just walked out on the most important person in my life. The thought makes me sick. “I’ve screwed this up badly.”

“We all screw up. Kind of think it’s a requirement of being human.”

I snort, but I’m too weak and sorry to really make a sound. “I’ve got to make this right.”

“Yeah.” Drew gives my head a tap. “But get yourself together, first. ’Cause you look like shit.”

Wiping a hand over my face, I glance back at him. He smiles, but his expression is too serious to carry it off. Lightly, I elbow his side. “Thanks. For being here.”

“Man, you know you don’t have to say that.”

I do know that. He’s the brother I wish I had instead of the fucknozzles I’ve been stuck with.

Just like that, all things circle back to the family I have left and what I’ve lost. Blinking rapidly, I grind my fists against my lips. Because I need to find the one person I want to be my family. Ivy.

And I realize that she is here. She’s found me instead.

Twenty-Six

Gray

I feel her before I see her. It’s a struggle to lift my head, face her. But I do it. She deserves that and more.

Ivy stands in the doorway, her expression blank, the harsh overhead lighting a haze around her long frame. Her face is so pale, it looks bleached out. Red blotches around her eyes and nose. She’s been crying. Something inside of me seizes. Need, fear, guilt, desire, self-loathing. I can’t move. I want to tell her I’m sorry, but I’m frozen.

Her dark gaze flicks to Drew, who is rising to his feet. He gives her a nod, and I know he told her where to find me. With a final squeeze to my shoulder, Drew walks out, leaving me alone with Ivy.

“Ivy, I…” Words fail me.

She steps forward, extending her arm. “Come here.”

I take her hand and stand. She doesn’t let me go, doesn’t say a word. Like a zombie, I follow her lead, tethered by her hand in mine. She ignores me, clicking away at her phone, sending texts to God only knows who. I don’t ask because I ought to be apologizing now. I know this. Shame holds me silent. We don’t speak as she drives, me crammed for once in the passenger side of her pink car.

Inside her house, it’s cool and dark. Ivy leads me to toward Fi’s bedroom, and I halt, confused.

“Fi isn’t here,” Ivy says, tugging me along. “And she has a bathtub.”

The room is dim. A single lamp glows, casting the room into shadows. We walk into the bathroom. Someone’s drawn a bath and left the lights on low.