Worth the Risk (The Game #4)(21)
Author: Emma Hart

“Hospital?” My eyes widened, flitting frantically from her to Stu’s car. Paramedics were swarming around Cam with medical equipment, and I needed to be there. More than anything I needed to be my brother’s side, holding him, telling him it was okay.

The officer held me back before I realized I was moving.

“It’s okay. Let them do their job, sweetheart. He’s in the best hands.”

“No. No. I need to be there. Be with him. Please.” I didn’t recognize the voice crying out. It was raw, it was pained. It sounded nothing like me. Nothing at all.

“You can be. At the hospital,” she says softly. “There’s nothing you can do for him right now.”

~

I broke. Shattered. Gave in.

For one glorious hour, I collapsed under the weight of the pain wrapped around my heart and let it consume me whole-heartedly. I let myself feel the burn of losing Cam more clearly than I have since the day he died.

And now I hate myself for it.

I hate it because the pain is stronger. It’s more noticeable. It’s heavier. It’s frightening and it’s panic-inducing. I hurt more than I ever thought I could and I miss him more feverishly than I ever knew.

So I need to forget. I need to put all the bullshit aside, bury the pain and hide the heartbreak, and get on with life. Right after I’ve stepped through the imposing gate towering above me in the waning light and stared at his headstone for a while.

I’ve never hesitated this way before. I’ve never been so scared to go in there and see his name carved perfectly into the marble or sit next to the grass that covers the space where he’s laid to rest.

I don’t know how I do it. I just know I do. Somehow my feet move, one in front of the other, and take me to his grave.

A few tiny leaves have fallen from the trees lining the section of the cemetery he lies in and sit on top of his headstone. I rub my hand across the top and brush them away, watching as they flutter to the grass, and lower myself next to his grave. I hug my knees to my chest and rest my head on top of them, turned so my eyes trace the letters of his name the way they do every time I come here.

His name. His date of birth. His date of death. The one line that sums his death up perfectly.

The sky has gained the brightest star it will ever have.

My words. They were all I could say when we ordered the stone, but nothing else would have fit him. He was the bright star in everyone’s life, so it’s only right that’s where he ends up. High in the sky, shining over everyone and lighting our way. There was no need to say he’d be missed; we all know he is and he probably knows it too.

“Light my way home tonight, yeah, bro?” I whisper, kissing my fingers and pressing them to the stone. “Miss you.”

I hold back the tears as I push up from the grass and walk away from him. Selena’s house is only minutes away from the cemetery, but I’ve hidden my emotions for so long they’re not noticeable by the time she says goodbye to her parents and we turn toward Leanne’s house for her birthday party.

“Is Kyle going tonight?” Selena asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know. Why would I?”

“No reason, I guess. Just that he ran off like his ass was on fire when he realized you’d gone to Layla’s the other day.”

“Only because he wanted to empty it over the floor,” I mutter dryly.

So I don’t actually care about what he did… That much. A part of me is pissed at him, but another part of me is still lolling about in a glowing bubble from him holding me for so long, and both parts know it wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t empty the vodka all over the floor.

“Good on him,” she replies brashly. “Personally I would have shoved it up your butt, but whatever floats his boat.”

I roll my eyes and push through the open door at Leanne’s. “Whatever. I need a drink.”

“Here we go,” she mumbles.

I ignore her and make my way into the kitchen. Olly’s standing by the fridge with his eyes following my every move. His lips curve upward as I approach, and he holds up a bottle of vodka.

“Can I get you a drink, Roxy?”

Like hell you can.

“Thanks, but I think I can pour my own drink.” I take the bottle from him. “I’m not quite helpless.” I grab a cup and pour it in, mixing it with some coke.

The drink, not the drug.

Olly leans in toward me and puts his mouth by my ear, his hand settling on my hip. “I can make you helpless.”

I rest the urge to roll my eyes and turn, gripping his collar. “Try it, Oliver, and we’ll see who’s really helpless by the end of the night.”

“That sounds like a promise.”

“Oh, it is, but you won’t like being helpless.” I glance at his pants. “In fact, I think nature already did the job for me.” I raise my glass in his direction, a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “Cheers.”

I leave him standing glaring after me, and move through into the front room. A glance around tells me Kyle isn’t here yet – if at all, and I relax a little. Both from the freedom him not being around gives me and because I haven’t seen him since I oh-so-elegantly smeared my mascara across his white shirt.

My drink goes down smoothly – too smoothly – and the others follow. One after another, no thinking, no counting, no anything except the liquid in my cup and the sweet oblivion creeping up onto me. Nothing except the music pounding off the walls and flowing through my body. Nothing except—

“You really don’t need anymore,” Selena says through a sigh as I pour another drink.

“Whatever,” I reply, my choice word for the evening. “Lighten up, Leney. I can still talk, I can still walk, and I can still remember my name.” I turn to her, smiling, the now full cup in my hand. “When I can’t do any of that, then I’ve had enough.”

I down the drink, feeling it join the already warm puddle in my belly. I don’t care what number drink that was. I just care about the swimming in my head…

And the blue-grey eyes looking into mine. Well, hello there.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the owner of the eyes says.

“I think I’d remember you if we did.” I look over him. Light brown hair, strong jaw, fairly firm arms… “Yep. I’d definitely remember you.”

He smirks. “Then we should introduce ourselves.”

My lips move into a smile that mirrors his but holds more confidence. “Feel free to introduce yourself, but I don’t do names.” I take his hand and pull him into a dancing group of people.