Page 135 of Game Plan

“I’ll say it loud enough for the whole world to hear if that’s the only way you’ll listen. I. Didn’t. Use. It. I opened it, looked at it for maybe two minutes, thought it was a shitty idea since the pool therapy is helping—just not as fast as I would like—and threw it away.”

“We can add a third session per week if needed. It’s still working, right?”

“It is. The stiffness is mostly gone these days. Just some residual discomfort. My range of motion has improved. My joint mobility too.”

“It’s amazing news. Why did you want to shoot up this stuff then? Are you like self-sabotaging your future and your health for fun? It doesn’t sound like you.”

Mason lowered his voice as we moved next to his bed. “I’m just tired of underperforming.”

I tossed my hands up. “You are not underperforming, Mase. That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve read articles online, I’ve checked videos, I’ve heard the chatter at Lola’s. People are impressed by your talent. They call you the next big thing in college football. George wants to add your picture to his celebrity wall, Mase. He’s already named a drink after you, Pierce and Score, and now he wants to create a special dish in your honor. Don’t you see it? While you believe you’re playing like shit, people are obsessed with you. They fancy you. I haven’t heard anyone blaming you for those losses. Not a single one.”

Mason dropped onto his bed, propping his elbows up on his knees and burying his face in his hands. “I’m no fucking football royalty anymore, Shepard. I’m a struggling starting quarterback who has his entire team on his back each time they don’t win a game. They wish Benjamin was back. They don’t care about my ability to throw a ball. They think I’m a cocky motherfucker who needs to wait until their star player retires to shine. It’s a load of bullshit. I’ve never felt so much pressure before in my entire life.”

“I get it, but stop being dramatic for a second. It doesn’t sound like you. You’re the confident jock who knows his value and doesn’t take no for an answer. A team leader who cares about his teammates way more than he should. You are Mason Pierce, for God’s sake. Start acting like him.”

“I really don’t need your stupid positive shit right now.”

“If you don’t want my stupid positive shit, then talk to someone else. Your coach, your college advisor, a shrink, your dad. I don’t know what’s going on because with me, you always pretend everything is all right.”

He lifted his head to look at me. “Because when I’m with you, it really is. You always make the bad stuff seem better. I forget about everything else when I just as much as look at you. And when I’m inside you, I never wanna leave.”

“Mase, I can be your anchor, but I can’t be your escape, and I won’t be your crutch. That’s not healthy.”

“I never said it was. I’m telling you things as I see them. If you can’t—” A soft knock on the door cut him short. “Yeah?”

Craig peeked inside. Wearing dark jeans and a knitted maroon sweater, he appeared less ruffled than I’d seen him most of the semester so far. “You guys are ready?” He must have sensed the tension in the air because his face fell. “Whose cat died?”

I used the heels of my hands to erase the last traces of tears from my eyes. I bet I had smudged mascara all over my face by now. Not wanting my voice to betray me, I remained silent.

“Nothing,” my boyfriend said, his voice missing his usual cheerfulness.

“Whoa.” Craig entered the bedroom with his hands lifted in surrender before him. He took a seat next to his brother. “Did someone die, or are you guys breaking up?”

“No one is breaking up.” Mason’s tone was laced with fury. “Mind your own business, man.”

Craig’s eyes widened, and his attention drifted between his brother and me.

I felt bad for him. For once, he didn’t lock himself in his bedroom or avoid us and appeared to be happy to go out, and Mason and I were fighting, ruining the moment.

“What’s that?” Craig pointed to the forgotten syringe in my hand.

“Huh.” I shut my eyes, not sure how to answer without throwing Mason under the bus. At the same time, perhaps he could help. If Mason had a drug problem, I couldn’t be the only one saving him. Craig had proven many times over the years he was trustworthy. I opened my eyes but said nothing. The older Pierce brother was smart. I saw the exact moment it all clicked in his head.

I locked the bedroom door, trying to give us a bit of privacy since their roommates were downstairs.

Craig nodded, thanking me silently. “It’s yours, isn’t it?” he asked his brother.

Beside him, Mason grew rigid but remained silent.

“Wanna tell me when you started shooting up, Mase?”

Again, my boyfriend stayed silent.

“How long has it been going on?”

Mason never answered.

Craig turned to face me. “Some help here, please. Can someone update me on the situation and fucking fast before I blow a gasket and draw my own conclusions?”