Keeping Score Read online

  “Then why the hell did you hand me over to Rocco! I don’t ever want to see you again, Cochrane. We’re done. For good.”

  “That’s my girl,” Rocco whispers under his breath and I’m not even sure I heard him correctly. Tears flood my face, and that softness is back on Rocco’s as I sob almost uncontrollably. I’ve never felt such pain in my chest before. It hurts to breathe, to talk…to simply stand here.

  A bloody hand captures my arm and he pulls me to him until my ear is near his mouth. “Do one thing for yourself, Sunshine.” I’m about to pull away. He has no right to tell me to do anything. Not after playing with my heart. How could I have fallen for him? How could I have loved him? “Keep painting.”

  And right there is my answer. He wants me to keep painting. But none of this makes sense. How could he be playing a game with me, yet tell me to keep painting, like he actually cares? He doesn’t care. He couldn’t. I was a game to him.

  “Shut up,” I shout, my entire body shaking, not knowing what to make of any of this. “All of you just shut up.” A girl comes closer with her phone and I snatch it from her hand, smash it to the ground and stomp on it. She’s about to protest, but takes one look at my face and backs off. Yeah, I get it. I look like a deranged lunatic, and yes, they should all be afraid.

  I step up to Rocco again, and put my face right in his. “I hate you. I hate everything about you. I’m glad Cochrane wrecked your bike…and your face.”

  Anger is making me lash out. Pure unchecked rage. I’ve always kept my cool, my temper. I have always been the do-gooder, the rule follower, letting my parents guide me down a path I never wanted to go, because oh, you know me, I hate confrontation. Hate it! Yet here I am, my face not even an inch from Rocco’s and I’m shouting loud enough that those on the other side of campus can hear me, while everyone has their phones out to capture my manic display. This is what heartbreak has done to me. This is what Rocco has done to me. Honestly, I’m not even sure who ‘me’ is anymore—especially without him.

  “Cochrane was right about you all along. You’re a rat. Trash and I never should have crawled into your gutter.”

  He glances at Miranda. “Take her home. Please.”

  I want to yell some more. I want to pound on his heart and make him hurt as much as I do, but I’m exhausted, my limbs weak.

  “Reagan,” Miranda says gently, giving me a little tug. I stumble away from Rocco and Miranda puts her arm around me.

  “I don’t ever want to see either of you again,” I spit out, before I sniff, and go quiet, my heart shattered into a million pieces that will never be the same again. I loved Rocco. Correction, I love Rocco. Why the hell did I go and fall for him? I consider all the things we’ve done together. Is any girl immune to that kind of charm? But that’s all it was. Rocco was charming me, and knew exactly what he was doing to get back at his enemy. Here I thought I was a pawn for Cochrane, only to find out I was a pawn for Rocco too. That’s all I was to them. Neither valued me as a person. I was simply a tool for them to hurt one another with.

  “Let’s get you home,” Miranda says.

  “Fuck that. I’m going to the Growler. I’m getting drunk and picking up the first guy I see.”

  She opens her mouth to tell me how stupid of an idea that is, but I glare at her, in no mood for a lecture.

  “I’m stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid. I don’t even know what’s going on, Reagan. None of this makes sense.”

  “Maybe alcohol will help.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” she agrees, to humor me. Alcohol isn’t going to make any of this better, but maybe for a little while it will help numb the pain inside me. We go straight to the pub, and I sit at the bar and order four shots of tequila. I push two over to Miranda.

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I tell her.

  “Yeah, I do.” We click glasses and we both swallow the shot in one gulp. We slam our glasses down on the counter, like we used to do freshman year, glance at each other and laugh. Well, will you look at that? I can still laugh.

  It’s Tuesday, so the place isn’t busy. There’s no band, but there is music and there are a bunch of guys at a table. They’re young, maybe freshmen. Perfect.

  I take another shot, and so does Miranda. I order more and get us a couple of beer chasers. Sitting on my stool, I swivel and throw my head back, letting the alcohol burn through my body. A song comes on that I love and I grab Miranda’s hand and drag her onto the floor. We start dancing, and instantly draw the attention of the frat boys.

  Never in my life have I done anything so reckless or foolish, but you know what? It feels good to forget about life for a while…forget about obligations, responsibilities…broken hearts.

  Miranda and I dance, and I can tell she’s trying to stay sober to watch over me, and maybe that’s a good thing. I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and can already feel the effects of the shots.

  “I love you, Miranda, and that is not the tequila talking.”

  She grins. “I know you do.”

  “I need another shot.”

  “Pretty sure you don’t,” she murmurs, but follows me to the bar anyway. I take a couple more shots, and back to the dance floor we go. I’m being stupid, but whatever. We already established that I am. This back and forth from the bar to the dance floor routine carries on for quite a while. Over an hour later, I sway to the music, only to realize it’s not Miranda grinding up against me. Nope, it’s one of the frat boys. I turn to him, and put my arms around his neck.

  “Hey,” I say in my best seductive voice. I laugh, almost hysterically, because I don’t even have a seductive voice, although Rocco sure seemed to love the way I talked and opened up to him in bed. Lies. All freaking lies. I probably wasn’t even very good. I laugh hysterically again.

  Frat boy arches a brow, but goes back to grinding against me, because getting in my pants is far more important than me being bat-shit crazy.

  I blink, my eyes are so damn heavy, all I want to do is close them for a moment. With my arms around the boy, I put my head on his chest, and I’m not even sure my feet are on the floor.

  “Okay, that’s enough.”

  That voice. It’s Rocco’s. But it can’t be. Why would he be here? Strong arms slide around my waist and pull me from frat boy. I whack at the hands holding me. “That’s enough, Reagan.” Warmth spills over my body as Rocco puts his mouth to my ear, and equal amounts of anger and love surge through me.

  “Leave me alone.” I glance at the frat boy. “Aren’t you going to help me?”

  He shakes his head and goes back to his friends, and even though I’m drunk, I realize he’s making the right choice. For himself. Not for me.

  “I’m taking you home.” I spot Miranda watching us while she nibbles on her bottom lip, a nervous gesture that’s a dead giveaway.

  “Did you call him?” She doesn’t answer, but instead she follows us outside. “We are no longer friends,” I tell her as Rocco scoops me up into his arms. He carries me to my house at breakneck speed, and the whole time I struggle, pound on his chest but it doesn’t slow him down or faze him. I hate that he’s so muscular, that nothing I can do, that not even my fist can penetrate his heart.

  He carries me inside, and I’m not sure what he just said to Miranda, but she follows us up the stairs and stays in the hall when he sets me on my bed. He drops down with me and for a brief second, compliments of all the alcohol, I forget what he did. I snuggle into him as he pulls the blankets over our head, and makes a safe fort.

  “Nice,” I mumble.

  He places a soft kiss onto my forehead. “Get some sleep, Sunshine.”

  Sunshine.

  My memories fill back in. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

  He crawls out of our secure fort. “I know.”

  “I hate you, Rocco.”

  “I know that too,” he whispers as he walks across the room and quietly closes my bedroom door behind himself.

&n
bsp; I push the blankets off and stare at my door, my tears falling hard. “I love you.”

  I close my eyes, and the next thing I know, it’s morning. I peel one eye open and try not to move. Did someone get the name of the linebacker who took me to the ground? No, I remind myself. It wasn’t a Falcons linebacker. It was the team’s tight end who tore my feet out from underneath me and ripped my heart in two.

  I groan loudly, and a knock sounds on my door. I try to sit up, but the room spins, so I flop back down, and put my arm over my eyes. “Come in.”

  The door inches open and Miranda peeks her head in. “Hey. I was waiting to hear you wake up.”

  “Ugh.” Wait, she was the one responsible for calling Rocco.

  “You okay?”

  “No. I’m mad at you.”

  “I know. Can we talk, though?”

  “Only if it’s not about Rocco, or Cochrane, or anything else that involves my heart.” I glance at my easel. “We can talk about painting.” I frown. “No, we can’t.” Air leaves my lungs in a whoosh as I shrink into myself, wanting nothing more than to throw the blankets over my head and hide from the real world. “Rocco bought me that easel.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I want to talk about.” She takes a seat on my bed, everything about her serious.

  “Miranda, please—”

  “Something isn’t right, Reagan.”

  I give a very unladylike snort. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “No, I mean it.” She frowns, and shakes her head. “None of this makes sense and I stayed up all night thinking about it.” She picks at my bedding, and I can almost hear her brain spinning. “I ran into Rocco when he was looking for Cochrane. He wanted to kill him.”

  “They wanted to kill each other.”

  “I know, but he was so angry, he said some things to me he probably never meant to say.”

  Now she really has my attention. “What did he say?”

  “Something about football. He said his football career was over.”

  My heart lurches. Oh God, no! It’s all he ever wanted, all he ever fought for. This can’t be happening. I might hate him right now, but I love him too and want only the best for him. Don’t even ask me to understand that.

  “Why?”

  She shakes her head. “I really don’t know, but my guess is it has something to do with Cochrane, and…you.”

  “Why would I have anything to do with him losing a career in football?”

  “Cochrane wanted you back. You didn’t want him. His father has a lot of pull, Reagan.” I go quiet, barely able to fill my lungs as I consider all the things Cochrane could have done to destroy Rocco. “I think he’s behind all this.”

  I roll away from Miranda and stare at the white wall as I remind myself of yesterday’s conversation. “He said mean things. He didn’t even deny it.”

  “Yeah, but we all say mean things when we’re mad, don’t we?”

  I swallow, and my insides squeeze as I consider all the cruel things I shouted at Rocco as he just stood there beaten and bloodied and took every single barb.

  “Yeah…”

  “Maybe he’s pushing you away because he’s afraid…or maybe he’s protecting you. I really don’t know.”

  Rocco had a horrible upbringing, and to this day he has a lot of demons. “People have always left him. I wasn’t going to leave him.”

  “Then maybe he was protecting you.”

  In all the time I’ve spent with Rocco, he was there for me. Helping. Protecting. Encouraging. That does not sound like a guy who was playing a game with my heart. “From what?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I…guess not.”

  “All I know is what I’ve seen with my own eyes these past few weeks. You’ve blossomed, Reagan, and I’ve never seen you happier. I think you two should have a conversation.”

  “But it was all a lie.” I groan and pound the bed, clinging to the hurt from yesterday, the cruel things he didn’t deny. “Our relationship, it was a lie, Miranda.”

  “What if it wasn’t? You know better than I do that Cochrane gets what Cochrane wants. That he plays dirty.”

  “Yeah,” I say, my breath coming a little faster now as worry for Rocco pushes back the anger I’ve been holding close.

  “I called Rocco from the pub because you needed him, and you know what he did, Reagan?”

  I go quiet for a second, then say, “He came running.”

  “Would a guy who was fucking with you do that?”

  I turn to my window and wince at the light filtering in. “No.”

  “Right. So like I said, none of this makes sense. He’s pushing you away for a reason. Even if he did say those things in the beginning, and maybe he did mean them, things changed, and you two fell in love.”

  I blink through the tears blurring my vision, my heart jumping in my chest. “You think he’s in love with me.”

  “Of course, he is.” She takes my hand. “He’s protecting you…from something.”

  Panic fires every nerve ending in my body. “Oh God, Miranda. Oh God.” My throat gurgles as I roll to my back. “All the mean things I’ve said to him. Why would he ever talk to me again?”

  “Because he loves you.”

  25

  Rocco

  I step outside my house, and not even the early evening sun does anything to lift my spirits. Not much can. Fuck, it’s been three days since I lost my girl—although she was never really mine to begin with—and I don’t even have a bike to jump on and go for a ride to clear my messed-up head.

  I take a deep breath as cars drive by, horns honking as everyone heads to the football field to watch tonight’s game—that I won’t playing in. Fuck me. I guess I can look on the bright side of things. I get to stay in school, get to finish my education. That’s something. It’s just that none of that feels important if I don’t have the woman I love to share it with.

  I pull my keys from my pocket and open the lock on the shed. The second I pull open the doors, my heart falls into my stomach. No. Fucking. Way. Anger floods me. Cochrane destroyed my bike and then took everything from me. Now he’s gone and taken the crumpled bike too.

  I stare into the empty shed, and my hands fist at my sides. If I go find him and give him the beating he deserves, the only thing I have left will be taken away from me. Maybe it’s worth it, though. Maybe I was never meant to be anything, to have anything in this life.

  I slam the doors shut and the bang reverberates through me. As my teeth rattle, I turn and head down the sidewalk, toward Wolf House. I keep my head down as partiers yell from their vehicles. I’m sure everyone on campus knows I’ve been kicked off the team by now, and I’m sure the rumor mill is doing its magic. What will they say about me this time? Do I even care? Honestly the only one I care about is Reagan. What she thinks matters. But I pushed her away, and in the heat of the moment, she said cruel things about me. Things I deserved after hurting her. But I couldn’t let her get dragged down with me. I’m just glad she saw Cochrane for who he really is, and there will be a better guy out there for her somewhere.

  I pick up my pace when the sound of my bike revving reaches my ears. I spin so fast, I nearly do a faceplant. Who the fuck is riding my bike? From the distance, I can only tell it’s two people. A big man on the front, and someone smaller on the back. I stand there as they come closer, and the second I realize who it is, the world goes a little fuzzy.

  The bike stops, and Mr. Ellison takes off his helmet and gives me a smile. “She rides nice, son.”

  “How…what’s going on?”

  Reagan climbs off the bike behind him and my heart hurts when I look at her. I love her so fucking much, all I want to do is run to her, pull her into my arms and tell her everything will be okay. But that’s a big fat lie, now isn’t it, and I really only ever wanted to be honest with her.

  “Reagan,” I begin and swallow around the lump in my throat. “What’s…going on?” My gaze goes to my bike. It’s running smoothly, an
d even the gas tank has been replaced.

  “We fixed your bike.”

  I shake my head. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to, and remember you once said to me, who am I to stand in the way of a girl who knows what she wants?”

  I nod. “I remember.” Of course, we were talking about sex. I glance at her father, a little uncomfortable. My thoughts should not be going to the bedroom and all the fun things we did while he’s standing there.

  As if reading my sudden unease, he smiles at me. “I think I’m going to take in the football game,” he says.

  Reagan gives him a hug. “Thanks for all your help, Dad. We’ll meet you there, okay?”

  She’ll meet him there. Me, I’m not going anywhere near the field.

  “Reagan?” I question when she turns to me. “What’s going on?”

  “Dad helped me fix the bike.” She waves toward my ride. “He called in a few favors to get it done quickly.”

  “Thanks, but you didn’t—”

  “I didn’t mean those things I said,” she blurts out, her eyes wide and worried, her cheeks pink. “You’re not a rat, you’re not trash, I was never slumming, and you do belong here at Kingston.”

  I take a breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not mad at you, Reagan.” I’m mad at myself for dragging her into my shit. Then again, I guess Cochrane was responsible for that. I’m just glad I got to spend time with her. Got to know her…touch her. It’s those memories that will help me get through life.

  “I said those things to hurt you.”

  I nod in understanding. “I know.”

  “You hurt me.”

  My heart thumps and I pinch my eyes shut. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know.” My eyes fly open. “I once told you, I knew you’d never do anything to hurt me. Purposely, that is. I guess I momentarily forgot that when Cochrane told me you said mean things, and you never denied it.”

  “I did say those things.” My gaze moves over her face, waiting for her to react, and when she doesn’t, I continue with, “I was just trying to piss Cochrane off after the card game. He took everything out of context.”