Page 157 of Game Plan

Football had always been the only thing I’d ever been talented at. What would happen to me if I lost it? But if I cheated to keep my sport and lost Melinda by doing so, would any of it have been worth it in the end?

Not all love stories were meant to end with a happily-ever-after, but my gut had always told me ours was worth fighting for if she ever gave me a chance to prove myself. That we could be it, for better or for worse.

I made up my mind. I wouldn’t risk Melinda or my career. I craved both. I needed both to feel alive. For a little longer, I would keep up with the charade and pretend I was in control. My earlier plan made sense. Once the season was over, I would find a doctor who would treat me under the radar. One who would not snitch on me to my coaching staff or the university.

I pushed myself up, using my left hand, and lifted the toilet tank lid to retrieve the plastic bag I’d stored in there. Just once more. I was aware I had told myself that multiple times in the past, but this time, I truly meant it.

Sitting back on the floor, I unwrapped a brand-new syringe and held it between my teeth.

I stared at the vial nestled inside my shaky palm, still debating my options. They were so limited that I couldn’t think clearly anymore. I should throw it all away and forget about it. I should call my parents and ask them for their support. Even in the middle of the night, they would drive here without asking questions. Why was it so hard to just reach out to them? They wouldn’t judge my actions but would try to help me find solutions instead. Sure, they would be disappointed at first—or worried—but they would be there for me. Every step of the way. Even though I was always surrounded by people, I felt so alone right now. I should also go to Coach first thing in the morning or wake up my brother and ask him for his help. I sighed.

All the should’ve, could’ve, would’ve made me dizzy, and yet they didn’t hold me back.

Breathing in, I removed the syringe from between my teeth but stopped mid-movement when I heard a noise.

“Mase?”

Melinda’s soft voice from behind me, as she entered my bedroom, dragged me out of the hell my mind had turned into. A chill crawled up my spine. What did I almost do? How could I have been so stupid? Without knowing it, she had probably saved me from committing a huge mistake right about now.

The sound of her footsteps crept toward the bathroom, and I held my breath. Why didn’t I lock the door?

I closed my fist around the needle and scooted to the side to hide the vial with my thigh.

“Are…huh…are you in here?” Something in her voice put me on high alert.

She pushed the door open. I held my breath. Think fast. I kicked the syringe and vial behind the toilet and moved the garbage can in front of them before moving to stand. “Hey, what’s up?”

She entered the room, hugging her body with her arms, a look of fear shadowing her face.

I blinked, not sure what was going on. Did she suspect—consciously or not—I was about to do something I swore I’d never do again and came to stop me? Could she possess a sixth sense when it came to me? Scanning the length of her with my eyes to make sure she was okay, I stopped when I noticed the red stain covering the front of her pajama pants.

I inched forward as if she could explode anytime, resting one hand on her upper arm. My insides twisted into a tight knot, and a sense of panic filled me. I forgot all about my own predicament. My heart raced into a spiral of dread. “Mel, you’re bleeding. What is it? Are you hurt?”

All color drained from her face when she took in her red-stained pants.

“Ohmygod. I-I woke up because I had big cramps...and you weren’t there. I’m…I’m not due for my periods for another week. This is so humiliating. I’m such a mess.”

“Do you think it could be a side effect from that kick in the stomach you received earlier?”

“I… Mase, I have no idea.”

She hugged herself tighter. “These cramps are no joke.”

“Let’s clean you up, okay? I’ll get you some clean underwear and pants.”

“Can I borrow those sweatpants of yours I always wear? I kinda need some comfort right now.”

“Sure. They’re in the laundry room. I’ll go get them. Wait here.”

I kissed her forehead and hurried downstairs, praying it was nothing serious. Yes, Melinda would be okay. She had to be. The opposite was not an option. Not under my watch. I wouldn’t fail her another time. Nah. This time, I would save her…or at least be there for her and make sure she got better. I would even bring back Nurse Pierce if it meant she would let me watch over her twenty-four-seven without complaining that I was being too helicopter. I tried to keep my emotions out of the equation. I had to stay level-headed. Be smart. Take charge. Yes, I could do that. I had to keep my mind moving, or I’d lose it. Fight, flight, or freeze. I was a fighter. Always.

It took me less than three minutes to grab all I needed without rousing anyone before making my way back upstairs.

The sight of her—face twisted in agony and skin ghostly white—as I entered the bathroom, froze the blood in my veins. Melinda was sitting on the toilet, folded in two, her bloody clothes discarded on the floor at her feet. Only her harsh breaths could be heard. Memories I never wanted to relive of the night she had her appendix removed came rushing back.

“Mel?” No reaction. I tried again. “Mel?” She didn’t even blink, pain carved into every line of her face.

I squatted in front of her, resting my palms on her knees.