Page 163 of Game Plan

“Mason. STOP.” Her words barely registered.

I grimaced in pain as I drove my fist forward, aiming for my brother’s jaw.

Just as it was about to connect with his face, two arms yanked me back, stopping my momentum.

“Enough, son.” Dad’s baritone voice roared in my ear. “What has gotten into you? Since when are you two coming to blows to deal with your problems? What is going on here?”

Craig gave me a sharp shake of his head. “Mase…I…I didn’t. I would never…”

“What the heck are you two talking about? What did you mean by drug use?”

I fought Dad until he set me free. Once I calmed down, he released his grip on me, and I stepped as far away from him as possible, feeling minuscule right now. Feeling like I was on death row, about to be executed. Maybe I could still salvage this. One could only hope.

“I don’t understand what’s going on.” My attention pingponged between my parents and Craig. “Then what did you tell them, man? What is this intervention all about?”

“Craig told us you hurt your shoulder in the fight with your teammate, and your coach asked you to take it easy, considering how bruised it was. Before you overreacted seconds ago, we were about to ask you if it was the same injury you had last year that you never opened up about and if you needed us to book you an appointment with a physical therapist or get X-rays, an MRI, or an ultrasound to make sure it was healing properly. Or if your coaches knew you had injured it last year and they needed to look at it more closely to make sure it wouldn’t impact you or your game in the long term.” Mom harrumphed. “We’re way past that right now. Mason Pierce, you’ll tell us everything there is to know about that drug use you hinted at. Start talking. Now.” She switched her attention to my brother. “You too, Craig. One of you will tell us what it’s all about, and don’t leave any details out.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I exchanged a glance with my brother and closed my eyes, wishing I was dreaming the entire scene. I was completely trapped. My heart sank inside my chest, and I prayed the floor would open and swallow me whole. This was bad. Way worse than the time Melinda or even Craig had found out the truth. Why had I assumed he would rat me out? What was wrong with me? I’d been so nervous about getting caught the last time after Nichols’s encounter that I’d ended up exposing myself. Tremors ran through my body. I started shaking, and I wasn’t even cold. My nerves deserted me. Whatever fake bravado I had left dissolved on the spot. I didn’t feel like cracking jokes anymore.

“I’ve got you, bro. I love you,” Craig whispered in my direction. “Don’t do or say anything stupid, okay? I have your back… Always. We can get you through this…huh, maybe.”

I offered him a half-nod, still searching for bits of courage scattered inside me. To no avail. I had none left.

“You better start talking now, boys, or neither of you is playing the next game, and you’re not going back to Crestwood anytime soon. You’ll spend the winter break at home until we get to the bottom of this.”

“Mommm. You can’t do this. I’m the starting QB. The team counts on us.” My outrage fell flat. Just shut up, Mase.

“Watch me.”

I felt tiny as she watched me, her eyes like laser beams ready to dissect me. “It’s…it’s not what it sounded like. No need to go all prison-guard on us.” I hated myself in that instant. Once again, I should have kept my mouth shut instead of trying to be a smartass. With every word, I was only digging a deeper grave for myself.

My folks weren’t stupid. They would never let me walk out of here unless I told them something. It didn’t have to be the full truth, but it had to be believable enough for them to think I spoke the truth. Geez, I was such a lame liar.

My brain was overactive, coming up with scenarios that didn’t even make sense.

I had to face the fact. I was screwed. I had screwed myself over like a true champion.

My blood froze in my veins.

Dad directed us to the living room without a word, his expression carved from marble.

I slouched into the couch as the first tear leaked from my eyes. Maybe if I showed some remorse, they’d cut me some slack for what I’d done—and understand why I did it. My shoulders slumped. No, there was no way out of this one.

Craig knew it too because he kept his glance down.

Nobody said anything for the longest time. I fidgeted with my fingers, not sure what to do with my hands, before stuffing them into the front pocket of my hoodie.

At some point, it was like my tongue had untied itself, and I spilled it all out. Every single little detail. I kept nothing to myself. I blurted out everything. From the cliff-jumping incident to wanting to take drugs the night my teammate had fucked me up.

When I was done, my parents looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“Mason… Why didn’t you come to us? Why would you think doping yourself was the solution to heal your shoulder? Why would you put that junk into your body? Ohmygod, my baby was drugging himself, and I had no idea.” Mom dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

I leaned closer and held her trembling hands between mine. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t want to worry you. I-I understand now how wrong I’ve been. It was never my intention to become a drug user.”

“Drug user. I never would’ve imagined those words coming out of your mouth. This is bad. Really bad. You could be an addict. How did you let it get this far?”