REED AND I see each other at the same time and he stops.
“Peyton? What are you doing down here?” His voice sounds strange, like I’m underwater. “Worried about your new boyfriend?” He drops his gym bag at his feet.
“Is—is he okay?” I stammer.
Reed holds the flashlight between us, and the light casts an eerie glow on his face. “I don’t know. The little bitch didn’t show.”
“Owen isn’t here?”
“I figured he was with you. But I’m glad you’re here. I wanted a chance to talk to you alone.”
I’d rather eat nails.
Reed seems oblivious to the fact that I can’t stand him.
“If you want to talk, let’s do it outside.” I start to turn around, but Reed blocks my path.
“No, we should talk now, while we’re alone. I think that’s part of the problem. We had a misunderstanding and other people kept getting involved. That’s when everything got out of hand.” His demeanor has completely changed, and he’s playing the apologetic ex.
“Other people ‘getting involved’ wasn’t what caused the problem. What you’re doing to yourself is the problem.”
He scratches the back of his head. “What do you mean?”
The tunnel walls look as if they’re getting narrower, squeezing closer to Reed—and me. I take a shuddering breath.
Don’t let him see how scared you are.
“Please don’t play this game with me. I broke up with you because you were doping. Then you decided to push me down a flight of stairs. I don’t really think there’s much left to talk about. Unless you want to discuss the fact that you’ve been stalking me and leaving dead animals in my locker. Because that kind of stuff definitely shows a girl how much you love her.”
Reed’s jaw twitches, and I scoot my feet back rather than taking a step. If he senses fear or weakness, he’ll attack.
“I told you I was sorry about your knee. I didn’t mean it. Nothing like that will ever happen again. And you can’t blame me for wanting to check up on you. You just disappeared.”
“Reed, I think we should get out of here. The cops are searching the building and arresting everyone. They already have a bunch of guys handcuffed out front, including Billy. It’s only a matter of time before they come down here.”
“First, they have to find the entrance to tunnel in that thrashed-out basement.”
“You found it.”
I can’t see the end of the tunnel from here, which means it isn’t as close as I thought. Suddenly, I’m dizzy.
“And then I covered it up.”
“With what? It’s a tunnel, not a porthole.” The panic is getting worse.
“I don’t want to waste any more time talking about cops and tunnels,” Reed says, moving closer. “I want to talk about us. I messed up. I admit it, and I’m sorry. But we belong together. You know that. I just won the regional championship. Aren’t you happy for me? Everything is going to be great now. Just give me one more chance. I won’t screw it up.”
The tunnel walls look like they’re expanding and contracting around us. I know I’m imagining it, but it feels so real. I can’t leave because I’m stuck listening to Reed’s bullshit. The panic recedes and another feeling replaces it.
Rage.
“We don’t belong together, Reed, and we’re never going to end up together. I saw what you did to Tess.”
He flinches.
“Yeah. I saw her face. You haven’t changed; you’re getting worse. If you could do that to your own sister—”
“Shut up,” he growls.
“Reed, please. You need help. Can’t you see what this is doing to you?” I don’t actually care if he gets help anymore. Too much has happened. Seeing Tess’ face was the final straw. But right now I’ll say anything to get away from him.
“I still love you, and I’m not giving up. I went easy on that guy Owen, but if you won’t give me another chance and you start screwing around with someone else, I’ll make him pay.” Reed narrows his eyes. “And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
The voice in the back of my head whispers to me, Do whatever you can to get away from him.
My instincts failed me the night Reed pushed me. I didn’t see it coming. But now I know what I’m looking for—the empty look in his eye. My little voice is right this time, and I need to listen.
The tunnel is cold, but Reed is sweating. I wonder how long ago he took a dose and what that means for me.
Get away from him. Now.
There’s no way I can outrun him. Not when my knee still isn’t a hundred percent.
I flash on an image of Owen and Tucker in the ring, when Owen was teaching him self-defense. The palm strike doesn’t require a lot of strength to execute, and an attacker’s size doesn’t matter unless you can’t reach the person’s nose.
Still …
I haven’t really practiced.
What if I try it on Reed and it doesn’t work? It might set him off.
My heart pounds against my rib cage, like it’s trying to break out. I’m not sure if it’s because of Reed or the tunnel.
“What we have isn’t the kind of thing you walk away from, Peyton. And once we work things out, our relationship will be different. You’ll see. I’ll stop doping, if that’s what you want.”
He’s lying, and he’s not even doing it well.
Reed paces back and forth in front of me.
“You’d really quit?” I pretend his answer matters to me. Maybe it’s the wrong move, but I don’t have time to think it through. It’s a Hail Mary—a last-ditch effort to save myself—and right now it’s my only shot.
Reed stops pacing and stares at me for a moment. “Yeah. I swear. Then we can pick up where we left off.”
Like nothing happened.
That’s what he means.
“You can quit just like that?” I ask. “Isn’t your body used to that stuff now?”
“People quit all the time. Other guys on my team have done it. You just stop.” He smiles and moves closer. “You don’t know how happy that would make me. One chance. That’s all I’m asking for. I won’t screw things up this time.”
You’ll just punch me in the face the first time I piss you off.
Reed reaches out to tuck my hair behind my ear, and I try not to cringe. His touch makes my skin crawl. “I knew you’d come around. What we have is special.”
I’m playing a dangerous game. And the huge smile on his face tells me that if I lose, I’ll lose big.
“I’ve really missed you, Peyton. Things haven’t been the same. Even winning doesn’t feel the same without you. I think that’s why I’ve been so stressed out.”
Stressed out? Is that what he’s calling it?
The sound of muffled voices drifts into the tunnel from somewhere inside the building.
Reed doesn’t seem to notice. He’s busy planning our future. “We could get an apartment together in the fall. We’d save a lot of money, and I could still help my mom.”
He seems to have forgotten that I’m going to college. But I’m not about to remind him—not when the improvement in his mood is buying me time.
Suddenly, the air in the tunnel feels heavier and it’s hard to swallow.
What if I don’t make it out of here?
My chest squeezes tighter and tighter.
I hear Dad’s voice in the back of my head. It’s now or never, kiddo.
I doubt this is the scenario Dad envisioned when he said it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. I’m running out of time.
It’s getting harder to breathe. Any minute, I’m going to have a panic attack and start hyperventilating. Or Reed is going to want some kind of confirmation that I’m giving him another chance—like a kiss.
My throat spasms.
Shit.
Thinking fast, I fake-cough into my elbow to hide my real reaction.
“You okay?”
I’m not confident enough to attempt a heel strike on Reed. I’d rather rely on human nature. I slide my phone out of my back pocket without Reed noticing. When he turns around, I toss it up in the air. Reed looks up, just like Owen said people do if you throw something above their heads.
I bring my knee up as hard as I can, and it lands squarely between Reed’s legs. He doubles over.
I take off running. It’s the first time I’ve tried to run since the surgery, and it feels awkward. I’m off-balance and not moving at top speed, but I’m running.
“Peytonnnn!” Reed shouts.
So much for incapacitating him. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
I see the door.
It’s not much farther.
The voices behind me get louder, but I can’t turn around. Losing one second might be the difference between making it out of here or Reed catching up to me.
The door is so close, and a pale light glows on the other side. Maybe the cops found the side entrance.
I’m going to make it.
I cross the threshold at the same time my knee gives out, and my body crashes against the stone. People shout my name.
In a blur of movement, a figure rushes past me.
It’s Owen.
Why didn’t he stop?
When I look back at the tunnel, I understand.
Reed is only a few feet away.
Owen throws an elbow and catches Reed in the jaw. I hear the sick crack of Reed’s skull as it hits the tunnel wall. But it doesn’t take him down.
Reed pivots and tries to sweep Owen’s legs out from under him, but Owen catches him in a headlock. Two cops come barreling down the tunnel, from inside the building.
The voices I heard must have been theirs.
Reed must’ve done a shitty job of hiding the tunnel entrance.
One cop grabs Owen and throws him against the wall, and the other officer grabs Reed.
I point at Owen. “He didn’t do anything wrong. He was trying to help me.”
The cops don’t respond. Either they can’t hear me over Reed’s nonstop string of profanity, or they’re not interested in my opinion.
Owen cooperates while the cop pats him down and cuffs him.
“Someone told me there was a party here tonight,” Reed yells at the officer who is stuck dealing with him. “I don’t know anything about fighting and gambling. Do I sound like I’m from around here?”
A third officer emerges from the tunnel carrying Reed’s gym bag. “I found this in there.”
“That’s his bag.” I point at Reed. “And it has drugs inside.”
“That’s not mine,” Reed says. “It was on the floor of the tunnel when I got there.”
“He’s lying.”
The older cop nods at the bag. “Let me take a look inside.”
The officer unzips it and fishes around. He takes out the same black box I found the night Reed pushed me. He opens it and tilts the box so the older cop can see the contents.
“That’s not my bag!” Reed shouts.
“I can prove it’s his. There’s a gym membership card in one of the inside pockets. It has his picture on it.”
“You bitch!” Reed turns and tries to charge in my direction.
The cop holding his arm jerks Reed back. “Let’s go check out the back of the squad car.” He flips over Reed’s gym ID and adds, “Mr. Michaels.”
I didn’t single-handedly take Reed down with a palm strike, but I got away from him.
And I went into the tunnel—and not just for five minutes.
I was in there for a long time, and I held it together well enough to deal with Reed. No one talked me through it, except Dad. I faced my demons and I kicked one of them in the balls.
All around, tonight feels like a win.
A cop leads Owen around to the front of the mill behind Reed and his badge-wielding escort.
Owen looks back at me. “I kept my promise.”
Owen promised he wouldn’t hurt me and he didn’t.
In front of the mill I see Tess, Tucker, and Grace in the glow of the red-and-blue flashing lights. Tucker waves at me and tries to talk his way past the cop in charge of keeping the small group of nosy people away from the building. Tess is with him.
Grace is busy yelling at Cam, while a cop yanks him off TJ. Why is Cameron wearing his football pads and uniform?
“Peyton, you’re okay!” Christian calls out from the lineup of handcuffed guys sitting on the ground. He’s wearing his football uniform, too.
The cop supervising the lineup notices me. “Are you all right, Miss? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m okay.”
I look for Tess, and I see her walking toward me. “I told the police about the drugs. I had to do it. It’s the only way Reed will get help. He won’t stop on his own.”
She nods, her lip trembling. “I know. And I want my brother back.”
I’m not sure if the brother she’s talking about still exists. For Tess’ sake, I hope so.
I search for Owen in the lineup.
“He’s over there next to Cameron,” Grace says, trudging over to us. “Maybe Owen can talk some sense into him.”
Owen is sitting cross-legged in the dirt with the Twins. Out of the three of them, Cam’s the one who looks like he was involved in an underground fight. At least Owen isn’t in the back of a squad car, like Reed.
“Why are the Twins wearing their football uniforms?” I ask. “Did they come straight from the game?”
Grace shakes her head and smiles. “The game didn’t end until thirty minutes ago. They walked out during halftime.”
“They just left in the middle of the game?” I ask.
“Yep. Cameron almost left before the game even started. He freaked when I didn’t show up with the rest of the squad.” Grace gives me a shy smile. “I texted him—and Christian—to tell them you were in trouble, but they were already on the field. Coach makes the players leave their phones in the locker room, so they didn’t read my text until halftime. Then they took off.”
Without thinking, I reach for my phone to call Hawk. I need to tell him what happened and ask him to meet me at the police station with bail money, for the three bravest guys I know.
Then I remember my phone is gone. It’s on the floor of the tunnel.
Shattered.
I’ll never hear Dad’s message again.
But it’s okay.
I remember everything about my father—his unruly dark hair and his lopsided smile; how he ate guava paste straight from the package and he squeezed just hard enough when he caught me in a bear hug; the way he could bounce a soccer ball on his knee for fifteen minutes without dropping it and he cussed at the TV in Spanish if Cuba was losing a soccer game.
I remember the way his voice sounded when he cheered me on from the sidelines and how it sounded different when he told me he loved me.
I don’t need the phone anymore.
The memory of Dad’s voice is all I need.
And I’ll carry it with me.