All Broke Down (Rusk University #2)(72)
Author: Cora Carmack

I nod.

“Everything is going to be fine, Silas.”

I shrug. Because I don’t know that.

All I know is Carter is still walking free. Stella’s talking about it all like it’s not a big deal, like she’s fine. And I got in another fight with a teammate, the same day my last suspension for fighting ended.

She scoots closer, situating her thighs on the outside of mine, and presses herself against my back.

“Whatever happens . . . you’re not in the wrong here.”

I sigh and scrub my hands over my face.

“It’s all just so f**ked-up. I thought he was a friend. He was in my house. Near you. I should have beat the shit out of him that night with the weed. I knew I should have.”

“If you’d fought him then, it’s entirely possible you and I might not have slept together that night. Besides, that would have been overreacting. This wasn’t.”

I reach for the arm she has wrapped around my stomach and lace our fingers together. “What if nothing happens to him? How could I ever play on the same team as him?”

“There are options,” she says. “We’ll find a way to fight it.”

“Not if the prosecutor doesn’t take the case.”

I’d spent all day yesterday researching the laws and past cases in Texas, and our chances don’t look good. Dallas said too many of the partygoers mentioned seeing Stella making out with random guys. That coupled with the fact she can’t remember anything, and they’re calling her an unreliable witness. She’s not the only one. I’m apparently unreliable, too. Everything Carter said in the fight is hearsay, and with my record and history, no one’s putting much stock in what I say.

“Even then,” Dylan answers. “We might not get anything done through the court system, but there are laws in place requiring universities to govern the safety of their students. Those have been used in the past to support victims of unprosecuted cases. Stella has options. And she has people who care about her enough to fight the uphill battle.”

Except she doesn’t even want to fight. I saw her yesterday, and she spent half the conversation trying to get me to talk about the next game, about how I felt about finally being able to play again.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that might not be the case. She just . . . it wasn’t anything she said or did, but something in her face told me that she needed to talk about that game. Needed to know that life would keep on going. She’s too much like me. She’d rather ignore it all, pretend it’s not there until the last possible moment.

And because I understand how she works, I let her do it. For now anyway. But I won’t let her be like me, won’t let it all build up around her until she’s trapped beneath it. She’ll have to talk to someone eventually. Dallas. Ryan. Me. Someone.

Dylan kisses my shoulder, pulling me back to the present, and adds, “You’ve got people on your side, too, you know. Your coach cares about you. He’s not going to write you off over something like this.”

I turn my head and kiss her, soaking up a little of her certainty, and then I hop in the shower to get ready to head over to the school.

“COME IN,” COACH’S voice calls through the closed door.

I open it slowly, and poke my head in.

“Silas. I’ve been expecting you. Come on in.”

Shit. Here goes nothing.

I close the door behind me and cross to his desk. I take a seat in the chair on the left because the one on the right is where I was sitting when I first got suspended, and I’m really hoping this time turns out differently.

“I’ve heard a lot about what happened this weekend. Why don’t you tell me your version.”

I do, leaving out everything about Dylan, about the fact that I was pretty damn sure I loved that girl when we stumbled into that room, and now I’m certain. I stick to the facts, and even though it could get me in trouble, I mention the brownie incident, too. I try to remain stoic as I recount everything for him, but my hands are shaking.

Stella is a good person and a good friend, and if what Dylan has told me is true, she’s been working for the last two weeks to get us back together. I should have noticed when I saw Dylan sitting at that table with my friends that Stella wasn’t there. Someone should have watched out for her. We all should have.

And now that what’s done is done, it shouldn’t be so damn hard to get someone to do something about it. Life has already been unfair enough. Stella shouldn’t have to live with that too.

“You feel certain that Jake did this?”

“I do,” I say. “If you could have seen his face, seen how defensive he was . . . you would too. And even if he didn’t set out to do it, even if she was awake when they went in the room, an innocent person would have handled things differently. He wouldn’t have left her there like that. And I know fighting him probably wasn’t the answer, and it’s my third strike and you have every right to kick me off the team. I hope you won’t, but I’ve got to say, I’d rather be off the team than play a single game alongside Jake. This team has heart and strength and courage, and he doesn’t deserve to taint that.”

Coach is quiet for a long while. He looks at me, then up at the ceiling. He scratches at his jaw and sighs, before turning his gaze somewhere else and repeating the whole process all over again. Finally, he stands and moves across the room to the window that looks out onto an open grassy area of campus where students play games or study when the weather’s nice.

“You know, when I suspended you from the team, I told you I needed you to be a leader. I wasn’t sure then if you had it in you. I knew you could play, knew you loved the game. But I couldn’t tell if you only cared about your own future, or the team’s as a whole. Even without hearing what you just said, I knew the answer before you ever opened that door. You know how?”

I shake my head, too many emotions lodged in my throat to speak.

“First thing Carson told me Saturday night after he explained what happened was that I couldn’t suspend you again. He said the team needed you. Brookes and Torres showed up at my door the next morning saying the same thing. Keyon rang my doorbell last night in the middle of dinner. He busted into my house, interrupted my date, and told me that you deserved to play. And if that weren’t enough, my daughter told me in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t support you, she wouldn’t speak to me for the rest of the season. People love you, Silas. They respect you. They trust you, and I do, too. And I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m damn glad it was you that found Stella instead of someone else. Maybe fighting wasn’t the best way to handle it, but I’m not sorry that’s how it went. You shouldn’t be, either. That girl . . .” He stops for a minute, closing his eyes and collecting his words. “I love Stella like she was my own. She brought my daughter out of her shell, and she’s . . .” He trails off and looks out the window for a while. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see him swallowing again and again, trying to keep his composure.