6. Aiyana

Chapter six

Aiyana

T hat game was beyond brutal. My forehead is still pricked with sweat despite trying to appear unbothered in front of Kat.

I've never missed one of his games, but I almost wish I had this time. Nausea is stirring in my gut as I mentally replay Kas getting knocked into the boards, punched in the sides, and kneed in the face over and over in my head. Bile rises up my throat, but I work to tamp it down when I see Kat reappear from her bedroom. She had gone to use the bathroom right after the game ended.

I look up at her, plastering a smile on my face that doesn't reflect the nerves I feel running rampant in my gut. "Did Kas text you to let you know what the hell was up with the other team?" I ask, attempting to keep my voice casual.

She doesn't seem to notice, though her brow quirks before answering. "No, he usually doesn't text me right after games." She pauses, assessing me. "But that was weird. I wonder why they were being so aggressive." A small flicker of irritation flashes across her features.

Shaking my head, I shrug and reach for my cell on the couch cushion.

I check for any missed messages, hoping for the first time since I arrived back in Philly that Kas has texted me.

He's been messaging me daily, sometimes several times a day. I know he's trying to wear me down and figure out how we're going to handle our past bullshit. You don't just leave a man like Kas and never answer for it.

The problem is, I've been torturing myself over that fact for five years. I don't need him to add insult to injury.

I feel sick to my stomach, though, and I've got no missed messages.

I'll text him. Just this once.

God, I hope he's not hurt.

I open my messaging app and scroll down until I see his face. He's wearing one of my dad's furs over his head, posing like a model for me. Back when I used to take loads of pictures of him with no qualms.

Those days are gone though.

What do I even say to him? Tell him I'm worried? No, I can't do that. He'll take it as an opening to swoop in and make me fall in love with him all over again.

As if I'd ever fallen out of love with him.

I've been agonizing over what to type for so long that I don't notice Kat flop down on the couch next to me, peering over my shoulder. "You texting Kas?" she asks me with a bright smile on her face.

If she keeps acting like this every time there's a mention of Kas and me together, it'll be impossible to continue convincing him that we can't be together because of Kat.

Something tells me she'd be nothing short of thrilled to have her best friend and her brother dating.

I look over my shoulder at her, not even bothering to put my phone away because that would look even more suspicious. "Yeah, that team was rough, so I figured I'd text him to congratulate them on the win."

Her questioning gaze remains on me, but she just turns her attention back to the TV, nodding her acceptance of my answer.

I look back down at my phone and go for a simple text,

Congrats on the win! Hope you're not too banged up.

Minutes pass by with no response, and my anxiety grows. I never have anxiety. Evidently, that doesn't seem to remain consistent where Kas is concerned.

I send another text when it's been thirty minutes with no response, and I've managed to peel all of my gel nail polish off.

Just want to make sure you didn't get too beat up out there.

Rough game tonight.

Well, rough team anyway.

Text me when you can.

Kat is worried about you.

The second text opened up a dam, unable to stop myself from sending another and another… That last text was a lie. She seems completely content, sitting in the corner of our velvet olive-green couch. Coincidentally purchased for us by Kas. I wonder if that was all part of his plan. To put us somewhere close by and fill it with things he bought us so I'd have no choice but to think about him.

The joke's on him though; he never needed to spend the money.

I'm always thinking about him.