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Riley did as I asked, moving mechanically. I pushed her arms through the sleeves and tugged the rest down. “They’re using me as a scapegoat. That’s all I ever was to them. A pawn. Worthless.”
A familiar swell of rage flared up at her words, but my anger wouldn’t help anything. The athletic director could go fuck himself—my focus was Riley, who hadn’t asked me to leave yet.
“Come here.” I took a chance and pulled her into the camper, settling on the tiny bed with her in my lap.
“Parker, I tried so hard, and I still lost everything.” She curled into me, and I threaded my fingers through her wet, tangled hair.
“I know, baby, but you didn’t lose everything. You have me. I love you and nothing will change that.”
Her walls crumbled, and she sobbed in my arms. My heart hurt. I wanted to raze the administration to the ground for doing this to her, but guilt hit me with my own culpability. I couldn’t be sorry for the way things played out because she was worth it. Maybe it made me a selfish bastard, but I’d take Riley over football any day.
She tucked her hands under my shirt, and I hissed when her icy fingers made contact with my stomach. Nothing in the world would make me move them though. In maybe the worst moment of her life, Riley had turned to me for comfort, and I’d sit there holding her for as long as she needed.
After a while, the tears stopped, but Riley didn’t pull away. Both of us were soaked from the intermittent drizzle outside.
“Can I take you home?” I asked quietly.
“I just want to sleep,” she whispered, closing her eyes and pressing her cold face against my neck.
I took that as a yes and scooped her into my arms. Riley wasn’t light, but I could carry her to my car thanks to the adrenaline coursing through my system. She let me buckle her in, compliant and hollowed out.
Riley wasn’t compliant. She pushed and demanded what she deserved. Without me, she’d be at training with the rest of the team, prepping for our playoff game. I turned the heat up in the car and studied her for a long second.
“Don’t give up on me, Lorelai.”
She had every reason to hate me, but Riley reached out for my hand. I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat and kissed her fingers.
I may have helped fuck this up, but I intended to fix it.
27
Islept for almost a week, and it wasn’t nearly long enough. Parker made me eat, bringing me food in bed and pestering me until I sat up. He held me when he wasn’t at practice, and I hated the time he was away. If his arms were around me, I could forget about the way my life had taken a sudden turn to shit city.
Not once did he mention how ripe I smelled, but when he left for his morning training on the day of the first playoff game, I couldn’t ignore the stench anymore.
I’d exhausted myself going over what-ifs and hypothetical situations. Maybe a change of scenery would get me past the closed loop of doomscrolling in my mind. The bathroom would have to do.
I didn’t make it far past the scrubbing phase before the looming question mark of my future overwhelmed me. My heart raced, and I had trouble drawing in a full breath past the tight band across my chest.
With the warm water cranked, I fell back on the cool tile, sliding to the floor in a heap. Luckily, Parker liked his space tidy, so he actually cleaned his shower. I’d have to thank him later, when I emerged from my sloth phase.
With my knees bent up to my chest, I dropped my head and took several slow breaths, careful not to inhale any of the water streaming down my face. Part of me knew this was coming. As long as I stayed in Parker’s bed, I wouldn’t have to face the aftermath of my career going down in flames.
But my dad would hate seeing me like this. He’d raised me to be strong and face the hard parts of life. Like him dying. Like George’s lawsuit. Like convincing people to take me seriously as a football player.
Especially the last one.
Of course, Dad would have ignored all those people and just kept going, working toward his goals. He’d tell me to do the same. I’d been pushing away my memories of him, hoping if I could just get a little more distance the reality of his death wouldn’t hurt so bad. It turned out distance and walls didn’t help, but Parker did. The others did.
I wasn’t alone. Whatever my future ended up looking like, I wouldn’t be alone.
The tightness eased a little and my shoulders relaxed. I planned to sit there until the water got cold, but someone knocked on the bathroom door.
I frowned. Parker wouldn’t knock, and no one else should be in there. I could have sworn I locked the bedroom door anyway out of habit. Probably not a murderer as I assumed they didn’t knock first. If I didn’t answer, maybe they’d leave on their own.
I should have known better.
Mac called my name from outside the bathroom, and I groaned, not bothering to look.
