Damaged Goods: An Angsty Football Romance (All Saints High Series)

“Dad, you left the trash out again,” Knight hollers, using the tip of his boot to roll me over on our backyard lawn. I’m holding a bottle of beer in my hand, but I’m not drunk. Not even a little. In fact, most of the liquid soaked against the ground when I popped the bottle open.

Because apparently, I’m too fucking depressed to even take a sip now. Great.

“You’re funny. And he is not home,” I say in a deadpan, squinting up at the sun, like it’s a staring contest. Like I might win.

“Hit rock bottom yet?” He half-squats, placing his palms on his knees and peering down at me.

“Think so.” I murmur into the bottle, taking a pull. The pool lounger is two feet away.

I can’t remember why I didn’t sit there when I walked out the porch doors.

“Great!” Knight smiles sunnily. “That means you’re ready for some hard truths. I’ll get myself comfortable.”

He takes a seat on one of the loungers on the ledge of our pool, grabs me by the back of my shirt and perches me on the lounger next to him.

I sometimes forget I’m not the only motherfucker in this house that can move a tractor just by breathing directly at it. Knight’s a beast.

“You have to break her heart,” Knight announces.

“I know,” I say, because I do. Because fuck, mine is already broken, but at least I know what I have to do now. Glue it back into something functioning.

“You do?” Knight leans forward, side-eyeing me. His shades slide down his nose.

“Yeah. She needs to hit rock bottom. Dixie told me.”

“Well, Dixie’s smart. But it’s not just that.” He runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “You need to do this to regain who you really are again.”

“And who am I?” I cock an eyebrow, putting the beer bottle down on the pool ledge.

“Not an asshole.”

“Am I an asshole now?” I ask, but I already know the truth.

I’ve been acting like a shithead throughout all this. If anyone told me six months ago that I’d be fingering, fucking, and sexually exploiting someone who is high on drugs I’d have laughed in their faces. And yet I did all those things. Crossed all those lines.

I tasted her pussy, knowing it wasn’t mine to taste. Kissed her lips, knowing they weren’t mine to kiss. I gave myself plenty of excuses.

Bought all of her lies and then some to convince myself that she is sober. That I had her full consent.

But I knew the truth.

And still, I lie to my brother, because owning up the truth is apparently too much for my ass right now. “If you’re referring to my hooking up with Bails while she was on drugs, she hit on me every single time.”

“She wasn’t herself, either, and you know it.” Knight shoots me a nice try look. “You didn’t have her full consent, bro.”

I bury my face in my hands and shake my head. I didn’t. And I’ll have to live with this fact for the rest of my life. “I know. It’s killing me.”

“Yo.” Knight puts a hand on my shoulder, snapping his fingers with his free hand. “That doesn’t mean that Old Bailey would’ve chosen differently, okay? Facts suck because they don’t bend to our will, but sometimes we have to face them.”

The guilt consumes me from the inside, festering on my internal organs. Bailey and I started out all wrong. Our fairytale turned into a goddamnn nightmare. And I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.

“Since when are you smart, anyway?” I lift my head, giving Knight’s shoulder a push.

“Luna makes me read books and shit.” Knight sighs. “They don’t even have pictures. Can you believe that?”

“She’s a good influence,” I say.

“The only influence I’m in, on, and otherwise don’t mind consuming.” He winks, grinning at me. “Hey.” He grabs the back of my neck, pulling me close to him. Our foreheads are touching.

He stares right into my eyes and it’s kinda creepy, but I think he wants me to pay full attention for what he is about to say next. “It gets better, bro.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been where Bailey is right now.”

“And?”

“What doesn’t kill you? Sometimes it revives you.”