All I can do is hope like hell that protecting my family doesn’t cost me everything.
Because tomorrow the league will weigh in. Sponsors will call. The media will build a story out of whatever angle sells best as the internet decides who I am in thirty seconds or less.
And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
For now, I pull my girls close and hold on tight, bracing for the fallout.
Because the punch has already been thrown.
Now comes damage control.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we survive the storm.
41
Kia
I pace from the windows to the couch and then back again, my footsteps carving the same restless path into the floor. My hands refuse to settle. They continue tugging at the hem of my sweater, twisting the fabric until my fingers ache.
Down the hall, I hear Laiken’s voice as he puts Elody to bed.
It’s low, calm, and steady.
Just like the man himself.
The sound wraps around me, reassuring me in ways I don’t understand. How does he manage to sound like everything is normal? Like the world didn’t tilt off its axis a few hours ago. Like there aren’t videos circulating with his name attached to words like violent and unstable.
I stop at the table behind the couch and brace my palms against the warm wood, forcing myself to breathe.
In.
Out.
And then again.
Elody says something I can’t quite pick up. Her voice is softer than usual, blurred by exhaustion. Laiken responds, murmuring reassurances. My chest tightens at how easily he gives her exactly what she needs.
That should be comforting. Instead, it only sharpens the fear until it’s almost unbearable. If everything falls apart, and today costs him his daughter, then every murmured word drifting down the hall will feel like a promise I helped turn into a lie.
That thought has me pacing again before it can fully finish forming.
My gaze falls on my phone. Even though I shouldn’t check it, I do it anyway.
The screen lights up, and it’s like stepping into a room full of shouting. A clip loads of Laiken’s fist connecting with Collin’s face, slowed down, zoomed in, framed like entertainment. Another angle follows. Then another.
The headline beneath it has bile rising in my throat.
Unable to help myself, I scroll. There are hundreds of comments from strangers dissecting a moment they weren’t part of. People argue over whether Laiken should be arrested, suspended, or fined. Whether this is a pattern, and if his daughter should be living in a home like that.
My hands start shaking so hard I nearly drop the phone.
In a courtroom, it won’t matter if Collin grabbed me first or if Elody was scared.
It won’t matter that Laiken reacted on instinct.
The videos start with the punch. Probably because that’s when people realized who he was.
I press a hand to my stomach, as if I can shield my baby from the rush of fear flooding my system. The room tilts just enough that I have to grab the back of the couch and blink rapidly until the nausea eases.
