Jet cups his hands around his mouth. “Yo, Vic!” he yells.

“I’ll bet he blames himself,” Ashtyn says. “Someone’s got to talk to him.”

“Take Monika to the hospital,” Derek instructs. “We’ll meet you there.”

Derek and Jet run after Vic. It’s chaotic and confusing at the same time. I don’t know what to do or think. Our friends don’t know Trey and I broke up and they don’t know he’d been taking drugs. Too many thoughts are running through my head. Did the pills have something to do with this? Should I break my promise and tell someone about them?

When we get to the hospital fifteen minutes later, I rush inside the emergency room. “Where’s Trey?” I ask the coaching staff, who are all waiting in the lobby. “Is he okay?”

Nobody is saying anything. I lean against Ashtyn, needing her support right now. In the back of my mind I fear the worst, but I’m not letting myself believe it’s true. It can’t be true. Trey Matthews is strong.

“Coach Dieter hasn’t left his side,” one of the assistant coaches says. “He’s not alone, Monika.”

“I want to see him,” I tell one of the nurses who comes out in a stark white outfit and shoes to match.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible at this time,” she says softly. “Unless you’re family, I can’t let you see him.”

Family?

We’d talked about marriage. That was a long time ago, before he started taking all those pills, before things changed between us.

Nobody knows about Trey’s little secret. Only me.

I’ll never forgive myself if keeping that secret hurt him.

Chapter Twenty-five

VICTOR

I hurt my best friend.

Trey was motionless as he was placed on a gurney and rushed inside the ambulance. The loud siren as they drove away is still echoing in my ears. My entire life I’ve felt like something bad would happen to me eventually, like I was living on borrowed time. Never once did I imagine I’d be responsible for physically hurting someone I actually care about.

I couldn’t handle seeing them take Trey’s lifeless body off the field.

The trainer and Dieter had frantically worked on Trey until the paramedics arrived and they took over. I had seen the grim expressions on their faces as they desperately monitored Trey for some hope, some sign of life.

I hadn’t seen any.

After the ambulance took him and I heard Monika’s broken voice cry out for Trey, I wanted to reach for her. I wanted to hold her and tell her I was sorry.

Instead, I ran.

My feet are moving on their own, my cleats pounding the sidewalk with each step. I don’t even know how far I’ve run until I find myself panting and sweating as I run down to the beach in an attempt to escape the image of Trey lying on the turf after I tackled him. I keep up my fast pace, unwilling to stop or slow down for fear that the reality of what happened on the field back there will catch up with me.

I want to run away from my thoughts, but it’s not working.

My legs feel numb when I stop and turn toward Lake Michigan. The waves rush onto the shore and lick my cleats. Unfortunately, the sound of the waves don’t drown out the sound of the ambulance siren in my head or the echo of Monika’s cries.

I always treated life as if it were a game and I was invincible. Truth is I didn’t care if I lived or died. Maybe it was the way my dad looked at me as if I was worthless. But Trey… he’s the guy who has everything to live for. He has a dad who supports him, a girlfriend who loves him, and a mind that can rival fucking Einstein. Countless times I wished I could trade my life for his.

What if Trey is paralyzed or worse and it’s all my fault? What if I’ve ruined everything he ever had and I wanted? How can I look him in the eyes and tell him that I didn’t mean to run him down? Because that would be a lie. I wanted to tackle him hard, to prove to him and everyone else that I could beat the best. I wanted to prove to Monika that I was stronger, bigger, better.

All I did was prove that I’m an asshole.

Pressing my palms to my eyes in an attempt to erase my thoughts isn’t working.

I can’t do this.

I run to mi papá’s office, smack-dab in the middle of town. The investment firm of Salazar, Meyer, & Kingman is impressive. The building he works in is polished and shiny, with big windows that look out toward the street. It’s sleek and imposing, just like my father.

I’m so fucking scared I don’t know what to do.

Papá always takes care of business. It’s like I’m blind and need him to guide me. He’s failed me in so many ways, but this time I don’t know where else to turn.