The Jock's Secret [3] |Ongoing|

❂ Chapter 6 ❂

❂ Chapter 6 ❂

"Of course, I would."

Of course, he would. I managed to take a sip of my coffee and not cough mid-gulp. It tasted awful. I looked out the window. People walked along the footpath, all minding their own business. Must be nice, I thought, though I didn't have much to think about. I sighed. I couldn't make this situation grey and continue wasting time thinking about how guilty I'd feel after all this. It would have to be black and white. A yes or no. And I'd have to say yes. Yes to whatever the man says.

Rory ended up needing surgery for her wrist. She got a cast. She said that she was in a hit-and-run. The doctors said this was the best outcome. When dad and I got home, I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I made sure dad and mom didn't see that. I didn't want to scare them. At that moment, I was terrified. It both wasn't and was my fault. I didn't want to think about it anymore. After that episode, I rushed to the coffee shop where I first met the man.

He was there. Waiting for me. He knew I would come.

I looked over at him. He drank his coffee. Composed. He understood that I was agreeing to his terms now. That he gave me no choice. He had the ability to hurt my older sister who's in a completely different state. There was nothing I could do now but go along with his plan.

"What should I call you?" I asked the man.

"Henry."

I frowned. What an innocent name. "Okay."

"We'll meet here next week," he said. "I expect you to bring the files."

He didn't wait for a response. He left. I watched his back. The way the door closed behind him. And through the glass, him walking along the sidewalk.

I tried to take another sip of coffee. It spilled on my lap.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath.

I stared at the stain on my jeans. A lump filled my throat and my eyes burned. It might have been only a simple coffee stain but not being able to clean it made me realize just how little control I had over my life now. Can't even clean up my own mistakes. There's no way I'll be able to clean up whatever happens next.

I looked back up. I couldn't see him anymore.

I took out my phone. I wanted to call Rory. I needed assurance from her that she truly was okay. Then things would at least feel okay. I called her.

She picked up after a few rings. At the sound of her groggy, "Hello," I felt terrible. I felt a whole lot of things. I knew I should have called her sooner. But I was calling her now, I told myself like that meant something. I was calling her because I needed to make sure she was okay so that I could be okay. It doesn't mean something other than that I'm selfish.

"You sound like you died," I said. I was trying to be funny. Distracting. Instead, I probably sounded morbid. Jokes are hard.

"How kind of you to say so, Jaxon," she said but I could hear her smile and I felt myself smile too.

"How are you?"

"I could be worse."

I frowned. I didn't like Rory saying that. She shouldn't be saying that. She had a real reason to be upset. To feel something. It's the middle of the spring semester of her first year in college. This is going to make things hard for her. And she's smart. She's really smart. And hardworking. She's very hardworking. But just because she's all those things, doesn't mean she should deal with this.

"Don't say that," I said over the phone. It came out as a plea even to my own ears. I didn't want her to think the same way I did.

"It's true," Rory insisted. "The doctors said so themselves. I only have a broken wrist. I should be completely healed by the summer."