Free Storm: Book 3 by Evelyn Rosado Page A

of my fingers. I feel alive. I head over to the indoor field and do forty-yard wind sprints until I nearly puke.
    “Don’t give up Brynn,” I say to myself under the crack of light spilling into onto the field from the hallway. It’s just enough light for me to run. I’m wheezing, keeled over, grabbing the hem of my shorts, sucking air. I love the feeling. For the first time I embrace the pain. It fuels me.
    I’m not giving up, no matter what comes my way. Not Chase. Not Connor. Not any drug. No drug. Whatever comes, I’m going to power through it. It’s only going to make me stronger. I can’t go back home.

Chapter 2
    I get back to my dorm before the crack of dawn. The campus is beautiful at this time of morning. The sprinkler system kisses the blades of grass and flowers. The sound is repetitive, but almost hypnotic and soothing. Nobody is on campus except for a few heavy panting joggers wearing headphones and a guy walking two dogs.
    Surprisingly, Tessa is already up, in the bathroom curling her hair. She looks at me—the sweaty, spent, but fulfilled mess that I am—and smiles with a slight look of sadness. This is the first time we’ve spoken since we found out the news about Chase from her brother. She looks at me like a mother would when she finds out the boy her daughter had a crush on turned her down.
    “Hey,” she says placing the flat iron down on the sink turning towards me.
    “Hey,” I say, flopping the gym bag down on the floor heading to the mini fridge for a water.
    “Brynn, I’m soooo sorry. Are you okay?” she says inching towards me, her voice tender.
    I take one long swig and put the bottle on my forehead to cool down from the early morning humidity outside. “I’m fine,” I say taking another sip.
    Her face is still inquisitive, like she knows I’m saying empty words and on the inside I’m torn apart. “If you need to talk about it, I’m here.”
    “Tessa. I’m okay with it. It’s just one boy. I’m only eighteen. Yeah, I’ve been through some fucked up stuff this semester, but guess what?” I’m standing straight up, confident, in the glow of the sun beaming through the curtains, “None of it has kept me down. It’s knocked me down, but I don’t plan on staying there. I’m going to keep trucking through.”
    She slaps me on the arm. “That’s the fucking spirit. You’re not a quitter, I can tell. You’re so much stronger than me.”
    “Don’t say that.”
    “You are. All the shit you’ve gone through I would’ve packed up my shit in the middle of the night and jetted back home and never looked back.” I nod slowly, biting down on my tongue. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this. But at least at least you found out right? It sucks, but that’s one way of looking at it right?” I nod. “I have class. If you need me to stay and keep you company I can,” her eyes are earnest and forgiving. I clear my throat and regain my bearings at least on the surface.
    “Yeah…I’m okay. Just kinda…you know still reeling,” I say. “I guess I at least found out in the beginning right? And not three kids later.”
    “Exactly. Look you’re a hot freshman girl in Los Angeles. So what a tatted up ex-felon rapist broke up with you. You’re back on the market. You should be jumping for joy. You’re prime real estate. You’re like a number one draft pick.” My phone buzzes in my pocket. “So where are you coming from at this time of the morning. You’re usually not up this early,” Tessa says.
    I pull the phone out of my pocket. Someone tagged me on Instagram. “I just got back from the gym.” I look at my screen. It’s another post from Connor. He’s tagged me in his post with another picture of me I don’t remember taking it. It’s of him and me at the Theta house. From that Friday night—the night that I try to block out of my memory. He has that disgusting smug grin on his face holding a red cup towards the camera. I don’t remember taking this