Coach nods. “I would have believed you before today, Layla. And now you have multiple people who have seen that Morales is a loose cannon. I don’t trust him, and until I get the proper protocol covered and a plan in place, you’re not stepping foot outside of this hotel again. In fact, I’d be more than happy to send you back to Denver right now to ensure your safety.”
“No!” I shout. “I don’t want to lose my job! That’s why I didn’t tell anyone!”
Coach smiles sympathetically. “You aren’t losing your job. Hell, at least half the team talks about how much you’ve taught themalready. They love your recipes, and how you’re showing them it’s easy to eat healthy. Even this guy,” he points to Max, “has managed to eliminate at least a tiny portion of saturated fat from his diet.”
Max chuckles. “I still eat fried chicken, and that’s a non-negotiable.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, laughing lightly. Sniffing, I swipe at my cheeks. I hate crying in general, and crying in front of the team baseball coach is a new low. But crying in front of Max? I somehow feel even worse. “I’d like to get some sleep. Can we table the discussion about the game until tomorrow morning? I really don’t want to let the team down.”
“You aren’t letting anyone down, Layla,” Coach says. “Your safety and security will always be more important than team dinners and whether or not the guys get their electrolytes in time. We can handle everything.”
As the three of us stand, Coach looks between me and Max. “And you’re sure there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”
I vehemently shake my head. “No. He’s lucky I haven’t spiked his food with laxatives due to all his incessant whining over healthy eating and vegetables.”
“Nice,” Max says with an eye roll. “Nothing going on, Coach. Just trying to be a team player and a supportive friend.”
Coach hums noncommittally, but his gaze tells me he doesn’t fully believe us yet. As I walk him to the door, he whispers, “I’d keep things quiet about the two of you. You know, when the nothing becomes something. I don’t care about fraternization, but management might.”
“Oh. Uh, okay?” I say, confusion evident in my tone.
“Goodnight, Layla. Reach out if that asshole shows back up here again. I’ll be speaking with hotel security to make sure he’s banned from the building, but just to be safe, here’s my contact information. You probably have it somewhere in your files, but now you have it direct from me.” Coach hands me a card, giving me a small smile. It’s as if he’s telling me he believes me, and he’s on my side.Then he looks toMax. “Get some sleep, Callahan. I expect a repeat of today’s numbers.”
“Got it, Coach.” Max nods as Coach Dunn opens the door, then we both stand silently as the door closes.
The silence is deafening.
My rapist showed up at my room tonight. After cornering me at my job.
I let out a shaky breath, then hold it as Max’s arms circle me from behind. It’s like he knew where my mind went and wanted to support me through it.
I bask in his embrace as I will my heart to slow, until Max finally speaks. “Can I stay in here tonight?”
Exhaling quickly, I nod. “Yes, please.”
Javier Morales is a fuckingdead man.
No doubt about it. I’m going to commit murder.
Do they have conjugal visits in prison, or is that just a myth they have in television shows and movies? I wonder if Layla will come visit me. I’ll obviously have to admit our full history, but one has to hope I’d get a conjugal out of murdering her rapist.
That man fucking raped her.
I am so furious, and so incredibly livid, I’m shaking.
I’ve always been big on consent. Sex is a two-way street in my book. When a man and woman agree on the parameters of a sexual relationship, it only enhances the experience in my opinion. Yeah, I like control. But if I’m with a woman who can’t handle that, obviously I’m going to change up my m.o. I’ll never understand why men get off on raping a woman.
To think that Layla had the guts to speak to Atlanta about what Morales did, and they didn’t believe her? God, I want to burn their entire ballpark to the ground.
After I murder Morales, of course.
If I’m gonna go down, let’s have it be in a blaze of glory. Murder and arson.
“Okay, I’m ready for bed,” Layla whispers, turning off the bathroom light as she steps back into the hotel room. She’s pale and clearly exhausted, but still so beautiful it hurts. Her silver eyes are full of pain, but I see the moment of relief when I open my arms, and she comes into them willingly.
“What would make you the most comfortable?” I ask quietly. “I’d like to hold you, but if you’d rather I just be here in support, that’s completely fine. Whatever you need, Lay.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her head resting against my chest, arms tightly around my waist. When she finally speaks, her voice is tentative. “I think I’d like you to hold me, but I can’t guarantee I’ll want to stay put. I very much like my own space while sleeping, and I don’t know if I’ll fall asleep cuddled against you. You’re really hot.”
