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“Yes, you can stay there,” he insisted. “I know you’re scared, but you have to keep yourself safe. Kyler needs you safe, son. You know that. And if they gave you a ticking clock, you don’t have time to argue with me about this. I’m going to hang up and call Kyra. Forward me those texts right now.”
My dad hung up, and I immediately went into the house, locked the door behind me, and forwarded the texts like he’d asked.
“MOTHERFUCKER!”I roared, letting my fist fly into the door.
I wanted to be mad at my father for telling me to stay put. I wanted to ignore him and march right back out to my truck. But I couldn’t be mad, because I knew he was right. I couldn’t go anywhere near where Coach and Max were holding Kyler.
I just had to trust that the police were going to save her. Because I wasn’t sure if I’d survive it if they didn’t.
* * *
“Ian,” my dad panted as he walked in the door. “Thank God you’re safe.”
I stood up from the couch, and he pulled me into a strong bear hug. And that was the last straw. All of the fear, the anger, the pain…it all came rushing forward at once, and I just started bawling. He squeezed me tighter.
“Kyra and her partner are on their way now, with a few other officers,” he said quietly. “She promised to call me as soon as she knows anything.”
“It’s my fault,” I sobbed. “This is all my fault. I should have been there. I should have been driving her.”
“No, son,” he murmured. “This is in no way, shape, or form on you. This istheirfault and no one else’s. Do you hear me?”
“How didn’t I see it? He’s my coach,” I choked out. “I trusted him, and he…he…”
“I know,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Trust me, I know. He won’t get away with it, I promise.”
For the hundredth time, bile rose in my throat, and this time, there was no holding it in. I tore out of my father’s arms and raced to the half-bathroom in the hallway, barely making it to the toilet before I lost my lunch.
I tried to stand up so I could rinse my mouth out, but my stomach turned again, and I sank back to my knees as I emptied the rest of my stomach’s contents.
“Fuck!” I groaned as I flushed the toilet and sat back against the wall.
A fresh round of tears bubbled up, and I buried my head between my knees and yanked at my hair, needing to feel something – anything – other than the soul-crushing agony of knowing that the love of my life was in danger and I couldn’t do a damn thing to help her.
I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there when my dad quietly knocked on the bathroom door.
“Ian?” he called. “Kyra just called.”
I quickly scrambled to my feet and opened the door. “What did she say? Is Ky okay?”
He sighed. “She’s alive and stable, but she’s on her way to the hospital.”
Another lump rose in my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it down. “How bad?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. She didn’t want to tell me over the phone. Come on. I’m driving. Maya’s meeting us there.”
