26. Fallon

My dorm feels like a sardine can with five large guys inside.

“I’m getting the spins,” the sandy-haired one says before leaning against my wall.

The dark-haired man beside the door releases a heavy sigh and runs a hand down his face before turning to look at me. “Thanks for offering your space. I’m Hudson.” He points at the one who had scowled. “That’s Grey. And Nolan.” He points at the sandy-blond now sitting, “and that’s Palmer.”

It’s weird to realize I know these guys—well, I don’t know them, but I’ve heard stories that make more than just their names recognizable.

“She’s a soccer player,” Grey warns, his voice a low growl.

“Corey trusts her,” Palmer says.

The two exchange a silent stare before Palmer releases a heavy sigh and looks at me. “Can we trust you not to take pictures or say anything that will fuck us over?”

I nearly joke that I have no one to tell, but swallow those words and nod when four sets of eyes shift to me. “As far as I’m concerned, this night never happened.”

Ironically, I made a similar pledge in May, leading us to this moment.

“Let’s get you guys some water,” I say, slipping out from Corey’s touch. I only have the four cups Camden provides to every student. I fill two and take one to Palmer and the other to Corey. His eyes remain closed, and he shakes his head when I offer it to him.

“You should drink a little,” I tell him, resuming my position. His head dips with my weight, and he moans, making me fear I’ll have a new layer of yuck spread across my couch soon.

“He’s going to blow chunks,” Nolan says, echoing my thoughts. “We should take him into the bathroom.”

“She has to do chemo again,” Corey says. “It makes her so damn sick.” He hits the couch with a balled fist. “It’s not fucking fair.”

My heart crumbles, wholly unprepared to feel so much for a person who went from being a stranger to one of my closest confidants to the person I think entirely too much about over the span of a few weeks. I hate myself a little for doubting him today and hate Tobias even more for sowing that doubt.

I don’t know how to balance this life lesson.

I’m not sure I ever will.

I set my hand on Corey’s shoulder again, wishing I could take away some of his pain.

A loud knock on my door has us shifting our attention as Nolan moves to answer it without conferring with me. Apparently, we’re at this stage of familiarity already.

“Damn,” he says, running a finger down the trail of locks before leaning forward to look out the peephole. “It’s Callum and Lenny.” He opens the door, and two more guys step into my shrinking room.

“Did you get everyone out of the hall?” Hudson asks the newcomers.

One of them nods, but his gaze is on me, holding the same note of distrust as his friends.

“Grey and Palmer, you two go first. Make sure the stairs are clear, and the underclassmen stay in their damn rooms. Callum and Lenny, help me get him upstairs. Nolan, you distract anyone who comes up behind us.” They nod without question as Hudson directs them.

“You guys don’t have to leave,” I say. “It’s not a big deal.”

Grey stares at me for a prolonged second. “It would be if anyone saw him like this.”

“He can’t be by himself right now,” I say, realizing a dozen more objections already line my tongue, protesting the idea of them taking him.

“He won’t be alone,” Nolan tells me.

Palmer nods. “We’ll stay with him.”

The last two guys who entered my room, Callum and Lenny, come over to the couch and help Corey sit up, using more gentleness than I expect from their large frames.

“Up we go,” one of them says.

Corey’s barely conscious, his whole body slumping as they pull him to his feet.

One of them grunts.

“Don’t drop him, Lenny,” Nolan says.

Lenny grunts again. “He’s two-hundred-and-twenty pounds of dead weight.”

“Don’t say dead,” Palmer says with a wince.

“Are you sure you want to move him?” I ask again.

“Put your back into it,” Callum says.

“I’ll show you where I’m going to put my…” Lenny mutters.

“Put your what?” Callum’s gaze turns sharp with a challenge.

Palmer shakes his head. “Now is not the time. Do you have him, Lenny?”

“I’ve got him. I’ve got him. Let’s go.”

And without another word, they spill out of my room, taking every piece of my sanity along with them.

I finally wake up without the feeling of dull knives severing my brain.

I roll over, the cold and unforgiving surface below me coaxing my eyes open. My eyelids feel crusted, as though I’ve slept for a month—longer. It takes me three blinks to realize I’m in a bathroom and too many more to realize it’s my own. My head swims, and the stench coming off me and the toilet seat where I clearly missed emptying the contents of my stomach has acid racing up my throat.

I shift and swear, disgusted with myself and the fact that I can’t account for the past… I don’t know how long.

Thoughts come rushing back of calling Anna as I left Nolan’s house. She had been so calm and cordial—too calm and cordial. I knew something was wrong, and the moment her voice got reedy and brittle, confirmed it before she told me the cancer was back. Instead of asking for help or support, she insisted I stay in North Carolina, promising this time wouldn’t be like before.

I stayed up all night debating my next steps and what was going to happen, only to have my phone remind me of a meeting with a booster the next morning. I was numb as I got ready and drove to the restaurant, where I barely managed to keep my shit together. Once the meeting ended, I didn’t know what to do, so I moved over to the bar, where I sat with a filled glass of water until a stranger recognized me and bought me a drink in exchange for taking a selfie with me.

And like that night in Colorado when I got drunk at Blake’s birthday party, I didn’t try to pace myself. As soon as the first shot was down, I signaled for the next. I lost count after five.

Palmer showed up hours later. I’m not sure if I called him or he called me. All I remember is his look of confusion before I told him about Anna. Then, he filled the seat beside me and ordered us another round.

My thoughts turn black after that, except for the faint memory of too many damn stairs.

A shadow looms at the door, breaking me out of my thoughts. I look up and find Nolan with his traditional smirk, though it’s different, cloaked in pity that makes it difficult to hold his eyes.

“Feeling better?”

I grunt my response and sit up a little straighter, testing my stomach and those claws that finally seem to have retracted from my skull.

“You were in a pretty sorry state yesterday,” he reminds me.

“I hope you felt this shitty last year when you went AWOL.”

He rumbles with soft laughter. “Except I woke up to fucking pitchforks and Grey pouring water on me.”

“You deserved it.” I swipe a hand across my brow. “If you’re going to get drunk enough to piss yourself, you don’t do it alone with Lenny. You call your friends and ask them to join you.”

He gives a bemused expression. “I’ll remember that.”

Slowly, I climb to my feet, and though the world feels unstable, it doesn’t sway, and the acid slowly lowers back to my stomach.

“I’m going to shower,” I tell him.

He nods and moves to pull the door closed. “You might need to let the water run for a few minutes. You puked in there.”

I spend the next thirty minutes deep-cleaning my bathroom and then move on to cleaning myself. When I step into my living room, Hudson, Nolan, and Palmer are on the couch. Shame covers me like an icy blast, leaving chills across my skin. Hudson’s mother was an alcoholic for most of his childhood, which led him to raise his younger brother and clean up her messes, which included saving her life on more than one occasion.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t offer an excuse or anything better.

Hudson shakes his head. “You took one hell of a hit. We understand.”

Palmer nods. “We made coffee if you want some.”

I turn for the kitchen, feeling entirely off rhythm. For the past couple of weeks, I wake up and check my phone to see if I have a text from Fallon, and then either respond or message her before making coffee.

Fallon.

Anna.

Media training.

Practice.

I pat my pockets, though I already know I don’t have my phone. Panic sends my heart racing and flushes my body. I feel like I was hit by a dozen defensive backs yesterday. I let so many down while sliding into my pit of despair.

“Have you guys seen my phone?”

“I put it on the charger in your room,” Palmer tells me.

“Anna called a few times yesterday, and we answered,” Hudson tells me. “I told her you had some bad Chinese food.”

I run a hand down my face. Anna will know it was a lie, but I don’t mention this as I open my messages, finding several from Anna and just one from Fallon.

Anna’s messages reveal she knows Hudson was full of shit, but she’s not mad, just worried. I send her a quick note, apologizing for not being available yesterday as I make my way back out to the kitchen and living room.

It feels like I’ve already failed.

I release a heavy breath as I face my friends, and my lungs deflate like my shoulders. “I fucked up.”

“It’s okay to fuck up sometimes,” Nolan says.

Hudson nods, drawing my attention. He’s never had a drop of alcohol. His Mom’s addiction had him writing off the idea before we even met. “What did your sister say?” he asks.

I scrub my hand over my face again, feeling an exhaustion that can’t be eased by sleep or coffee. “They were able to get most of the cancer with the surgery. They caught it really early, but she’ll still need to do chemo. They’re going to start on Monday. They don’t think she’ll lose her hair or get as sick this time.” The details Anna shared come out in choppy sentences as memories of those years swim in the forefront of my thoughts. “They’re hoping she’ll be done with treatment and be in remission by September.” I shake my head, unable to convey how impossible this seems when it’s the opposite of what took place the last time she battled cancer.

“You should get some coffee and call Vic,” Palmer suggests. “You said he never bullshits.”

I nod. I intended to call him after speaking with Anna. I even had his number in my phone twice but couldn’t bring myself to hit send, terrified Anna’s assurances were rose-colored hopes that he would turn into the nightmares.

Palmer crosses the distance and pulls me into a tight hug. “We’re here for you,” he says.

Nolan and Hudson appear beside him. Nolan pats me on the back. “We’ll be here for every fucking step.”

I’m grateful that someone knocks on my door because emotions are building in my throat.

Hudson answers, letting Grey inside. He stands awkwardly, holding a bouquet of roses and a brown bag.

“I thought you were going to deliver the flowers on your way?” Nolan asks.

Grey shakes his head. “No fucking way. Palmer can do it. I don’t need rumors.”

“Deliver flowers to who?” I ask, reaching for the coffee pot.

“Fallon,” Palmer says.

Her name has me abandoning coffee for a second time.

Palmer winces, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “We kind of ran into her when bringing you home.”

“What in the hell does that mean?” I ask as panic churns in my stomach.

He glances at Hudson, who flinches. “She offered for us to bring you to her room.”

I swear. “Tell me you guys didn’t.”

“We didn’t have many options,” Grey says.

I groan. “What happened?”

“You basically passed out on her couch for ten minutes. Just long enough for Callum and Lenny to clear the hall and the stairs, then we brought you up here,” Hudson tells me.

I try to sort through the muddled memories I have from Friday. “Did I say anything?”

“You recognized her. You said her name and maybe mumbled something.” Grey shrugs and looks at the others.

A train of curses has me reaching for my phone and scrolling down to Fallon’s message. It was sent yesterday afternoon.

Fallon: I’m here if you need anything.

Grey lifts the flowers. “Damage control. Nolan’s idea. Since he and Hudson are our resident grovelers, you can pick their brains while we send Palmer to deliver them.” He opens the bag. “There’s a card in here for you to sign your name on, too.”

I take the flowers and card from him and, once again, run a hand over my face. Goddamn, did life take a shit on me.