28. Zak

Matt slowly twists around to look at me, all color drained from his face. "She knows. She fucking knows."

I'm too stunned to even speak. I didn't notice anyone in the hallway before Matt pushed us into the closet, but then again, I wasn't really focused on anyone but him.

"I can't believe this is happening. My life, my fucking career… it's fucking ruined."

An icy cold hand reaches for my heart and squeezes.

Ruined. Because of me. Those are the words he didn't say, the ones he's no doubt thinking.

Matt's expression switches from anxious to terrified, then settles on rage.

"I fucking shoved you into the closet." A sharp laugh pierces the tense air. "I mean, what kind of irony is that? Pushing you into the closet like that to be with me because I didn't want anyone to know the truth I've been hiding? Talk about poetic fucking justice."

He mutters to himself, pacing up and down the tight space. "Holy fucking shit. I really fucked up this time. Goddammit, this is all my fault. I should've left you alone. Let you walk away."

His words are like the sharpest knives, each one slicing deeper into my soul. But Jesus Christ, how many times am I supposed to let this guy steamroll me? What about my therapy? My new motherfucking resolution for my future? For my whole life?

"You know what, Matt?" Disdain drips from my lips. "Shame on me for thinking you might have changed. But you really are still the same selfish, self-absorbed asshole you always were. You need me. You want me," I say in a mock needy voice. "You're full of shit. You only give a damn about yourself. I'm an idiot for believing for one second that there might have been a chance for us. You've used me for the last time. I'm fucking done."

I jerk my shoulder, so it hits him as I push my way to the door, my heart hammering in my ears like clashing cymbals. With my hand on the door handle, I glance back at him over my shoulder, my body quaking with fury.

"You know what? I really hope Anna outs you. And I hope it tears you apart, so you know how I felt when it happened to me in college. I hope the rest of the world gets to see the self-centered fraud I've always known you were."

I push open the door and stalk toward the front of the venue, my vision solely focused on the revolving glass doors. My heels dig into the carpet, my hands shaking with anger. I ball them into fists, fighting the urge to slam one into a wall.

I haven't been consumed by this much rage since the time my mom was grabbed by that dickwad outside the restaurant.

My fucking bad.

Why the hell did I let him drag me into that closet? Why did I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I'd written him off too soon? Why did I give him a second chance to shatter my heart?

So many questions.

And there's only one answer for all of them.

Because I fucking love the guy.

My lips twist like poison has just been smeared across them.

I round a column, only a few feet from the door when a sniffling sound jars me. I twist my head, and huddled in a dark corner of the lobby is Anna. Her head is down, shoulders slumped, and her hair falling in front of her face.

Guilt grips me by the throat.

Of course, Matt doesn't give a damn about anything more than protecting his perceived sexuality.

But I'm not him.

I pull in a deep breath before walking over to her.

She looks up when I say her name, her eyes red. But she doesn't say anything. Doesn't really need to. Her hardened gaze says everything.

"It was a real dick move to go behind your back like that. I'm really sor?—"

"When I saw him push you into that closet," she says, like she didn't even hear what I just said. "I tried to convince myself it was anything, but what I had suspected from the night he rescued you from those people beating on your car."

She sniffles again. "He just kept drifting away. At first, he was just in his own world when we were together. But then he started making excuses about why he couldn't see me. It was so stupid of me to get involved. It was never supposed to be serious but I…" she shakes her head. "I just got caught up. I fell in love with him. And you…you stood with me, talking, listening to what I told you. I shouldn't be angry. He never promised me anything. But I feel like a complete idiot for thinking we might have a future."

"Anna, keeping all of this from you was wrong. And I'm not apologizing for Matt. I'm apologizing for me because you're a good person who deserves better. I told him that when we were in the closet, I told him to come clean with you. But I?—"

The words are on the tip of my tongue but fuck him. I won't say them out loud. Ever.

"I know," she says. "You don't need to say it. I just hope he does right by you."

I swallow hard. Jesus, is it really that obvious? Did Anna see in me the same thing Mom saw in Matt?

Not that it matters anymore.

"He won't because he can't. He doesn't have it in him. Consider yourself lucky that you found out now. Matt has a future with one person…Matt. You've got everything going for you. He's got one thing. Football. Nobody to love because he's too selfish to give himself to someone else."

The caustic flow of words tumbles from my lips until I snap them shut. No sense in piling on. The poor girl has enough of her own crap to process, including the fact that she just saw the guy she was hooking up with kissing another guy.

"I've got to go," I mumble. "I am really sorry, Anna."

I twist toward the door, my mind unable to wrap around the fact that Matt just watched me leave him yet again and didn't stop me. All the bullshit he spewed before Anna walked in on us was just that. The old wounds are raw and open. But I can't blame him entirely. This time is on me. He dropped more crumbs, and I lapped them up like a dog at a water bowl on a hot day.

Ire shoots to the tips of my fingers and the ends of my hair. I pull the ticket out of my pocket and step toward the door when someone pulls me backward. My spine stiffens. I grit my teeth, my fist itching to punch him in his gorgeous face.

But when I turn, it's not Matt behind me.

It's Brett Travers.

My breaths come fast and furious. I glare at him, my jaw twitching. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I don't cower. I've already been hurt beyond repair. There's nothing else he can do to drive me any further into my own personal hell.

"Don't touch me, Travers," I hiss, shaking off his hand.

"You think you're something special, Kacey? Just because you won a fucking preseason game?" he sneers.

"You choked today because Matt called you out in front of the press. And then your team fell apart around you, Captain. Don't point fingers at anyone but yourself."

"Oh yeah? Well, I might have some intel on your superstar kicker that's gonna get his ass kicked out of the league. How's that for irony? And how do you think that's gonna impact the Crusaders? Losing their golden boy?"

What the hell is he talking about? Something on…Matt? I shrug off his threat, ignoring my thundering heart. "Maybe you need to accept that the Crusaders are just a better team."

"Fuck you." His face flushes a deep red. "They'll fall apart with a guy like you running the show. You're a pathetic loser who can't stand up for himself. All the money in the world won't change that. You should stick to sucking cock, and your team should stick to sucking ass since it's the only thing you're all good for."

Sparks of fury blast into my fists. I crack one against the side of his nose. He doesn't go down, but he stumbles, looking at me with a mix of shock and disgust.

"Fuck you, asshole. I'm not your victim anymore."

Two big security guys rush over, but I don't wait around for a second round. When Travers doesn't grab me by the back of my neck seconds later, I figure they've contained the empty-headed beast.

I shove the door open and storm outside. Maybe he was bluffing, just to get a rise out of me. I pace the sidewalk as I wait for the valet to return with my car. A few minutes later, I'm in the driver's seat, gripping my steering wheel tight. I press the ignition button and step on the gas, blood rushing between my ears.

Kicked out of the league. Losing your golden boy.

Jesus, Matt, what the fuck did you do?

I look up at the traffic light, barely noticing that the light turns red just as I accelerate through it. A sudden blast of a horn jars me from my thoughts. Tires squeal, the noxious smell of burning rubber making my gut wrench. Flashing headlights blind me before the crash sends me flying sideways against my window.

Matt's face flashes in front of my eyes for a split second before everything goes dark.