Shaking for a whole different reason than when I started the car, I slow to a crawl. Spying a newly vacated spot alongside the main road, I pull off. There’s a meter, but I make no move to exit the car. In front of us people flow from the bar; luckily, most of them are too caught up in their own worlds to notice us. No cameras. Yet.
“Mae,” I croak, turning to her immediately. “I’m so sorry. I should not have taken you out here like this.” I reach my hand out to her, and she takes it timidly. “I’m so sorry if I scared you. I promise, I don’t usually handle losses like this. I just got overwhelmingly frustrated, and there’s a lot of pressure -”
She turns to me and lets out a shaky breath, effectively ending my sentence going nowhere. “I’m sorry if I crowded you. I justhadn’t seen you angry before, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
After a brief moment of silence, Mae opens the door and stumbles from my car. She raises the phone to her ear, and on the other end of the line I can make out Raleigh’s strained voice. After a minute of Raleigh’s yelling, she turns back to me. “Dalton is coming to pick me up.”
“Do you want to wait in the car?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She wraps her arms across her chest again and shakes her head. “I think it would be better if I stayed out here.” Briefly, she glances at her feet before opening her mouth to say something. “I …”
“Hey, look who it is!” A man’s hurried voice carries from the nearest bar. It seems innocent enough, but my senses are immediately heightened; we’ve been discovered.
“The Gators’ bad luck charm!” another voice calls. This one is much less coherent and far less chipper.
Mae turns towards the men and my heart rate quickens. Hopping from my car, I slam the door and round the front. I’m at her side in seconds, thankfully before the two men wearing LA jerseys. I square my shoulders, hoping I can take care of this with a picture and an autograph.
The man who is clearly sloshed leans around me toward Mae. “Hey little missy, you need to leave our boy alone! Don’t need him losing any more games because of a little brunette distraction.” I feel Mae shrink behind me. Extending a hand behind me, she takes it.
“I assure you boys that the loss is my fault alone,” I say with every intention of de-escalating the conversation. Intent on steering it away from Mae. From the corner of my eye, I can see the phone camera flash of a bystander.
“Either way,” the other, much rounder man, says, “can we at least get a good look at her?” He laughs, then reaches past me and yanks Mae forward into the glow of the bar’s neon. When I see his hand gripping her arm, all I see is red. Stepping forward, I shove the man backward. He releases his grip, but the other man is getting defensive. I grab the collar of his shirt, intending to punch him into next week, but I feel Mae’s gentle caress on my arm. I let him go and step back to her side as the round man finds his feet.
“This bitch has him wrapped around her sweet little finger,” the round man slurs to his friend. Mae gasps at his word choice, and I’m about to retaliate when the drunk man reaches for Mae again. Grabbing her by the hair, he loses his balance, and they both topple onto the pavement. I flinch as Mae’s cheek connects with the sidewalk.
I immediately jump to reach for her, but the man still standing runs at me and attempts to take me down with a tackle. At this point, other bar hoppers have stopped to film what’s happening. I’ve been trained how to behave when there are cameras around, but right now I couldn’t care less. With Mae unable to stop me, I shake the man loose, reel my fist back, and punch him straight across the face. There’s a cracking sound, and the man is screaming on the floor, clenching his nose.
Before I can reach down and finally help Mae to her feet, a police siren sounds and part of the crowd scatters. Parking in the street, two officers exit their car and wander toward us. Dalton appears shortly after and goes to Mae’s side immediately. I’m relieved we’ve gotten backup, but then again, I wish I’d been able to protect her myself. My stomach drops as the police approach me with handcuffs, and I realize I might be going to jail. For putting Mae Evans in this kind of danger, I deserve it.
***
It’s been a few hours at the station, but we’ve finally gotten it all sorted out. They slapped me with a few charges; I don’t even know what. They had Mae relay her version of the event, which surely helped my cause. I have no idea what the two other men are being charged for. One was taken to the hospital with serious facial injuries, and the other was in the cell next to mine.
Steven arrived and helped sort everything out. I called Coach and had to tell him the whole story. It’s safe to say my conditioning workouts are not going to be kind the next few days; that’s only if I’m not suspended from the team or worse.
The front lobby of the precinct has been sectioned off because journalists work fast. The video of me socking the guy went viral in 0.2 seconds. With it, most of Mae’s fans have turned on me. They have good reasons, of course; I never should have put her in that place, and I should have protected her. My sphere of sports media hasn't been kind either.
Had those men called Mae things I’d never ever think of calling a woman? Yes. Had they instigated the violence? Yes. Did I break the face of a man wearing an LA Gators jersey? Yes.
Groaning, I bury my face in my hands.
My misery doesn’t last long because a side door opens, revealing Steven, Dalton, and Mae. She’s holding an ice pack to her cheek, but when she sees me, she removes it. I try not to flinch when I see the bruising already taking over.
When they reach me, the men continue outside, where flashing lights ignite, and Mae pauses in front of me. I can tell there are tears in her eyes.
“Wyatt, I am so, so sorry,” she cries. I waste no time; pushing myself up from my seat I wrap my arms around her.
“This is not even remotely your fault,” I whisper, resting my chin on her head.
“Oh, but I think in a way it is,” she says, pulling away. With a deep breath, she tells me exactly what I was hoping I wouldn’t hear come out of her mouth: “I’m going to fly home tonight.”
We’d planned on going back to LA for a few days to hang out, but tonight has changed everything, and tomorrow the fallout will hit. It’s best if we’re far away with our own circles to back us when the cynics start lurking. “I understand, but Mae, I don’t want this to be over.”
“I don’t either,” she breathes quietly. “But I think it would be best if we slowed things down.” She continues, whispering like she’s ashamed, “I’ve done fast-moving relationships in the past …” She trails off before straightening slightly. Looking me in the eyes, she continues with the truth, “I just hadn’t seen you angry, and that scared me.”
I suck in a sharp breath. The pain of knowing I’d scared her, that maybe I’d even hurt her more than the two strangers in the street – it’s almost too much. My reaction was unprofessional and childish. I’ll forever try to make it right if she gives me the chance.
“Mae, I’m so sorry.”
