And the truth wasn’t that I saved Sam.
Still, we made the decision to come out with our story before the article, and we all went home. Logan, Taylor, and Nate came to the house with Sam and me. We stayed up till early morning, just drinking and sharing stories. I don’t know why. It seemed like we were kind of memorializing my life or something. If this didn’t work, I’d still live, but a part of my dream would be dead. Our lives would definitely change. I didn’t know how. No one did, but we all felt it.
I held Sam on my lap, drank whiskey with my brother, and laughed with my best friend. This was my family, and as they talked about how this was going to be Sam’s official ascent into the public eye, I was doing what I always did.
I planned ahead.
I thought ahead.
I calculated, and I tried—I really did—to imagine using my girlfriend as a crutch to explain why I’d done all the shitty things in my life. But every time I went down that path, the same decision came to me.
There was no fucking way.
I loved this woman.
Sam was livid with the world when I first saw her. She had a stone-cold exterior, but I saw the fire inside, and I was drawn to her even that first night at the gas station. She looked at me, dead in the eyes, and I felt her message. A solid fuck you. I’d wanted her then. I wanted to take her, bend her over, and stick myself so far in she’d never feel another guy. The primal part of me had just wanted to claim her as mine, and I usually never gave two shits about that stuff.
I liked sex. It was what it was. It was a pastime for me, but I answered to no girl.
That changed the second I saw Sam’s fuck you attitude, when she looked at me and never looked away. She challenged me without knowing it. I knew then that Logan would want her, but no way. This one was mine. I felt her inside of me. I didn’t like that part of it. No one got in there, only Logan. But she’d gotten in, and she continued to get in deeper over the next weeks. I couldn’t get her out.
I tried.
God, did I try.
I tried to ignore her.
I tried to intimidate her.
I tried to fuck her out of my mind.
I tried everything except bullying her—I couldn’t do that.
I was an asshole, still am one. Bullying was not beneath me. If someone came at me, or came at someone I loved, I did what I had to do. I fought people. I fucked other girls. I didn’t give a damned thought or care about who someone was. I hated adults. That was why Nate’s parents took him away. They didn’t want me rubbing off on him, and I’d begun to.
I was not a good guy, nor am I one now.
I am the bad guy. I’m the asshole.
Sam is the one who saved me.
The only part of me that was good was her. She curbed my anger. She taught me how to love. She made me want to be a better version of me, but I only went so far. Even now, I wanted to fuck people up. I wanted to hunt down Adam Quinn, and I wanted to beat the shit out of him until he was in the hospital. I didn’t give a shit how much damage I inflicted. I wanted it. I almost needed it sometimes.
And my brother, I’d condemned him. I’d made him what he was today. Like at dinner when he needed someone to take his anger out on? I did that. I put that hatred and darkness in him. Logan lived for the fight. I used it to extract my demons, but not him. I raised him in that world of hatred, loathing, and violence. He’s addicted to it. I could walk away. He can’t. That’ll always be a problem in his life, and it’s my fault.
I couldn’t let anything else be my fault.
As they talked about my speech for the press conference, I already knew. I wasn’t going to let anything fall on them. Not even Nate, who wanted me to talk about how he’d joined the fraternity and how Sebastian became our enemy for two years.
This was me, all me. And this was probably the last time I’d make a decision for the group without consulting them. I was their leader, at least for one more day. I might not be after this, but it didn’t matter.
My life.
My history.
My faults.
My problem to fix.
“Are you ready?” Coach Broozer clasped a hand on my shoulder.
The next afternoon we stood outside the room where we did interviews for the team sometimes, and it was filled with press. I realized it was probably my last interview in there too. I could hear the telltale sounds like I always did after a game, but this time the reporters didn’t know the reason for the conference. They didn’t have questions prepared for me. I was the one to prepare them.
“Okay.” Coach opened the door and eased back out. Lights and voices filled the hallway before he shut the door again. “They’re all here.” He looked at me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”