Page 207 of Broken Saint

My future had already been mapped out. Football and pain.

I’d accepted that long before I moved to Florida for college, and I still know it now.

It doesn’t matter how much I want it. Want her.

“Colton,” Luca bellows impatiently.

“I’m coming,” I call back, wincing from the volume as I tie my sneakers.

The last thing I want to do is go and exercise—the jerk knows it, too. But he’s also fully aware that if he doesn’t drag me out ofthis house and force me to continue living my life, I’m going to drown.

He’s done everything he can to help. Forced me to watch him pour bottle after bottle of alcohol down the drain. But it hasn’t helped.

I just ordered more.

Everything is easier to deal with when it’s fuzzy.

Right now, it seems like the best option.

Ella has left, and I’m no use to my team.

I’m no use to anyone.

What’s the fucking point in any of it?

Heavy footsteps thump my way, and I’m almost done with my laces when he stops in the doorway.

“Everything okay, man?” he asks, his concerned stare burning into the side of my face.

“Yeah,” I grunt, refusing to look at him as I reach for the hoodie lying on my bed. “Fucking peachy.”

“Colt,” he sighs.

“Don’t, okay.”

Every single time he’s turned up here, he’s pointed out the obvious. The obvious that I’m trying to ignore.

I could just go to her.

She’s gone back to Texas. She’s not on the fucking moon.

But as much as I want to…As much as I want to turn up at her door and grovel for her forgiveness…I know I can’t.

It might feel like she’s ripped my heart clean out of my chest and taken it with her, but it’s for the best.

“I’m not saying anything,” Luca says, although when I glance up, I find a knowing smirk playing on his lips that says otherwise.

“We going or what?” I grunt, forcing my way past him and out to my building site of a living room.

I might have had good intentions of making the most of my time here and doing some work, but as yet, nothing has happened. But even living in this mess is favorable to returning to my apartment.

All I’m going to see when I step inside that place is her. All I’m going to smell is her sweet scent. And there’s no fucking way I’m ever going to be able to sleep in that bed again, or look at the bathtub.

I shake my head and rub the back of my neck, massaging the tight muscles there.

“Yeah, we’re going to be late for your appointment.”

“My appointment?” I ask, my brows furrowing.