Spinning Out(The Blackhawk Boy #1)(49)

"Nothing that meant anything." He grimaces. "I'm making a mess of this."

I stare at him, but all I can think is that this should hurt more than  it does. Finding out that my boyfriend cheated on me today should hurt  more than Arrow's anger about our parents. But the ache of this  revelation feels a lot more like a bruised ego than a broken heart.

"Say something," he whispers.

"I want to go home."

"No, come on. Let's stay and have a good time. I want to hear you sing again."

I shake my head, grab my purse from the table, and head to the car. He  takes so long to join me that I'm heading back toward the building when  he finally emerges from the restaurant and hits the button for the  automatic locks. I climb into the car the second the locks click.

"If you aren't okay to drive, I will," I say when he gets into the driver's seat.

"I'm fine." He jams the key into the ignition, and the silence between  us is angry and tense as he drives back to Blackhawk Valley. At first, I  think it's gonna be okay. He's hurt, and I'm mad, but he's gonna take  me home and this horrible night will be over. But then his driving  becomes more erratic, and as we reach the hills at the edge of the city,  he swerves every time a car comes toward us in the other lane.

The gray sky opens and sleet covers the windshield, and the next time he  swerves, a tire slips off the side of the road, making us fishtail.                       
       
           



       

"Brogan, pull over," I say, gripping the dash. "Jesus, are you drunk?" I  look over and know it's true. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are  glassy. He only had a couple of glasses of wine at the restaurant. "Is  that what you were doing while I was waiting for you to come out to the  car?" I ask. "You were in there drinking? Do you want to kill me?"

He yanks the wheel and pulls off the shoulder before throwing the car in  park. "No, I don't want to kill you, Mia. I was having a couple of  drinks and trying to calm down so I didn't have to go back home and beat  the shit out of my best friend."

I want to smack him for putting this on Arrow. "It's not Arrow's fault you can't keep it in your pants."

He squeezes his eyes shut and smacks the steering wheel. "Can we just slow down and figure this out?"

"There's nothing to figure out. I'm breaking up with you. This is over."

"I love you," he says. "How can you sit there and act like that means  nothing? I've been so patient for you. Waiting when you weren't ready."

"You're going to make this about sex? Like that excuses you?"

"Not just sex. Arrow."

"No." I shake my head. "Don't bring him into this."

"But isn't it? Hasn't it always been? You think I don't see the way you look at him?"

I hold out my hand and am shocked to see it so steady when my gut is  churning. "Just give me the keys so I can drive us home." We're off the  side of the road at the top of Deadman's Curve. The sun is gone, and our  headlights cast out into the darkness that seems to go forever.

I reach for the door handle, and he hits the locks. We used to joke  about the child locks being activated in this car, but right now it's  not funny.

"I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me." He reaches behind my seat and pulls out a bottle.

"What are you doing?"

He unscrews the cap and drinks. It smells like rubbing alcohol it's so strong. "Just having a little fun on New Year's Eve."

"Let me drive, Brogan. Please. I don't want to fight with you while you're drunk."

He shakes his head. "You have to make me believe we shouldn't be  together. If I let you go again, I don't think I'll ever get you back.  Make me believe it, Mia!"

I set my jaw. If he wants a hit in the gut, I'll give it to him. "I slept with Arrow. The night you and I were broken up."

His lips curl into a snarl, and he takes another drink.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Brogan." What a lie. I want to hurt him. I  don't like being trapped in this car. I hate being made to feel like a  hostage. This isn't healthy, and he's getting drunker by the minute.  This isn't the man I know.

He takes another swig. "I thought you were saving yourself for marriage,  but you were only saving yourself for him." He offers me the bottle,  and I shake my head. "But it doesn't matter. We love each other. We can  get through this."

"No. I don't want to pretend that we're this happy couple anymore. If  that were true, you wouldn't be sleeping with her." I move as fast as I  can, reaching across him to hit the button for the automatic locks and  then reach for the door.

Before I can open it, he wraps a hand around my arm and squeezes too tight, making the skin throb beneath his fingers.

"You're hurting me."

"Don't go." He loosens his hold on my arm but doesn't let me go. "Promise me you'll stay here until we figure this out."

I take a breath. He's not acting like himself. I can't reason with him.  "Okay," I say, "but we have to stay here. You're too drunk to drive."

He looks out the window and nurses the bottle.

I surreptitiously fish my phone from my purse and type a quick text to my brother.



Deadman's Curve. Brogan's red Jetta. Come get me. SOS.



Brogan swings around to look at me right as I tuck my phone away. I fold  my arms and promise myself Nic is on his way. I'll sit here and talk to  Brogan, and soon enough Nic will be here and everything will be fine.  Maybe if I can calm him down, Nic could drive Brogan home, too. He's in  no shape to drive himself and I can't leave him here.

Everything is gonna be fine.

I whisper the sentence to myself on repeat, but I don't believe it. It  feels like everything is spinning out of control. Like tonight is the  beginning of the end.





Two a.m.

"Wake up."                       
       
           



       

My eyes are gritty and my head aches like every member of the BHU drum  line is in there pounding on me. I squeeze my eyes shut again, trying to  block out the pain.

"Arrow. Wake up."

Coach.

Where the fuck am I? I pry my eyes open again, and Coach stands over me, leaning into the car down and shaking my shoulder.

I scan my surroundings, and everything tilts sideways. Everything's  blurry, and I fight through the cobwebs in my brain, trying to remember  what happened tonight. The fight with Brogan. Then Mia. There was a  party at a house off-campus, and I told Mason I'd swing by before  returning Coach's car. Then Trish grabbed me. She promised she could  make me forget Mia, and that sounded so damn good. After that . . .  shots. Too many shots. And then . . .?

"Get out of the car and come inside."

I blink at the steering wheel under my hands, and my stomach pitches. Why am I in the car? "How did I get here?"

"You drove." He mutters a string of curses after that, curses that feel  directed at me and that I probably deserve, and I follow him into the  house, fear tapping at my conscience and doing its part to sober me  incrementally.

I sink onto the couch, my head spinning as I wait for a lecture. I hear  water running in the kitchen. The squeak of the pipes as he turns off  the tap, and then he shoves a glass of water into my hand.

"Drink."

Sitting up, I bring the glass to my lips and take a drink. My stomach  rolls when the water hits it, and I put the glass down and close my  eyes. I just want to sleep.

Coach shakes his head and presses the glass back into my hand. "Drink the damn water first."

I drain the glass against the protests of my stomach, and I swear I'm in  that horrible drunken limbo where I'm still not sober but the hangover  has already started, that half-conscious land of nausea and sleep as  Coach leads me up the stairs, down a hall, and to a bed. The world goes  black.



Five a.m.



I wake with a start. I'm gonna hurl.

I roll over, trying to bury the pain in my head into the pillow, and  realize I'm sharing a bed with Coach's daughter. Trish. She must have  come in here and climbed in beside me after I passed out.

She's asleep and huddled under the covers. She draws up a knee, and her toes skim my calf.

More memories from last night flash through my mind-Trish laughing with  me. Dancing. Licking tequila off her cleavage. The images are bright and  loud against my headache, and I just want them to go away.

"Dad's here." Her whisper, hot and suggestive against my ear. "I  promised him I'd be home for the ball drop, but I'll be in my bed after  that. I'd rather not be alone."

I hear something and realize it was my phone that woke me. I pull it from my jeans and blink at the screen.

Mia Mendez.

Beside me, Trish mumbles something in her sleep. Mia's calling me, and Trish is curled against my side.