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Now that I'm not facing the coach, the tears can fall freely. I'd be in trouble if I didn't know the way back to my office by heart. All I can make out are vague shapes in front of me as I almost stagger down the hall, breathing in sharp, hitching gasps that hint at the panic attack that hasn't given up yet. It wants to overtake me. I'm thinking it just might do that because, let’s face it, I don’t have it in me to hold it together.
I hear their voices before I see them, but my overwhelmed brain won’t let me process the presence of visitors in my office until I round the doorway.
It’s Ash who speaks first. “There you are. We saw your car?—”
I stop dead in the doorway, both relieved and horrified to find them waiting for me. They weren’t supposed to wait for me. Nobody can see us together like this.
Who am I kidding? What difference does it make now? A high-pitched laugh stirs in my throat but turns into a broken whimper. Ash stops dead in the middle of his statement, probably because I must look like I witnessed a bloody massacre or something similar. I'm a complete mess, in other words, and not what they expected to find.
“What happened?” A hand closes around my upper arm and pulls me into the room, while another hand starts rubbing my back after shutting the door.Close. They're too close to me.I can't breathe. I shake my head and wave my hands and stumble against the desk, reaching blindly for the tissue box.
They are both the only people I want to see and the last people I need hanging around here. My wounded heart needs their comfort, but the rest of me knows damn well they shouldn't bein here. I can't bring myself to tell them that. I can barely get enough air in my lungs to speak in the first place.
“Tell us what happened.” Now that I can see a little better, I know it's Soren who's demanding answers.
It's so strange. Everything is so sharp and clear. The tiny crack in the ceiling, right above my desk. A slight chip in the tile floor, close to the door. The humming of fluorescent lights—I don't normally turn them on in here, since they're so harsh and the sound can be distracting, and now the sound fills my ears like the humming of bees. The soft woosh of air coming through the vents. The faint shimmer of my red nail polish.
It's amazing, the things you pay attention to when you're on the verge of losing it.
One fact about my training, it allows me to stand outside of myself and diagnose the problem. Not that it would take any sort of medical professional to get to the bottom of why my thoughts are racing and my awareness keeps drilling down on the most mundane, inconsequential things. It’s easier than facing the elephant in the room. An elephant I can't bear to look in the eye and accept. I was building a life here. I was building something I was proud of. I have to start from square one and I don't know where to go.
And Coach Kozak hates me. I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life, knowing I broke the trust between us. He's a good, kind man who went out of his way to make me feel welcome and appreciated. How did I repay him? By flinging all of it in his face. I know I'm going to lose sleep for years to come, staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night and replaying every ugly moment.
“I think she's in shock.” Ryder doesn't bother being gentle or careful with me, taking me by the shoulders and forcing me to sit on the sofa. He drops down next to me, taking one of my shaking hands between both of his and craning his neck until we are eye to eye. I can't even look at him. I can't look at any of them.
“You can talk to us.” Ash crouches in front of me, his hands on my knees. I wish I could accept the comfort he wants so much to give me. I know they all do, and I sense their growing frustration when I can't give them the answers they're looking for. I can barely breathe, much less speak.
“If somebody hurt you, you have to tell us who.” For once, Soren’s the one who looks like he is about to lose his shit. He's always the calm one. The guy with a handle on his emotions. He's the one pacing like a caged tiger, clenching and unclenching his fists in a steady rhythm. “Was it somebody on the team? Tell us. We'll make them regret being born.”
“Damn right,” Ash growls. All I can do is cry harder, so hard my body shakes, so hard my shoulders and my ribs ache from it. So hard I can't breathe, can't speak, can't think. It all hurts. It hurts so much.
And they are the last people who could ever help me through it.
They still think somebody hurt me, like I was attacked or something. Like that's the worst thing that could happen. As they poke and prod, trying to get information—which only leaves them angrier, since I can't find the words—I know these are the last moments we'll have together. When everything comes to light, that's it. Nothing will ever be the same. As miserable as this is, and as angry as they're getting thanks to my silence, it's still better than what I know is coming next.
I don't want to lose this. I'm already losing my job and everything that mattered before I met them. That is more than enough to deal with. But I have to lose them, too. I mean, there's no way we can be together now. I'll be the fallen woman, the disgrace, the temptress who used her position of power over them to fulfill my carnal desires or something like that. I have no doubt that's what the story will be. That's who I'm going to become. I could just die from embarrassment, not to mention disappointment in myself. There's plenty of that, for sure.
I can't keep them waiting forever. They're either going to find out from me, or directly from the coach. All things considered, it will be easier to hear it from me. It will give them time to prepare themselves for when he inevitably confronts them.
I only wish it didn't feel so much like I'm being marched to the electric chair and there's nothing I can do about it.
Here goes nothing.
4
ASH
Iam not the guy who sits back and lets things happen. I am not somebody who waits with his thumb up his ass. That's probably why the past several weeks during my recovery were so tough. I get shit done. I command my destiny.
In other words, I'm pretty sure my nerves are about to shred while we wait for Harlow to tell us what happened. Seeing her like this and not being able to help her or even comfort her is torment. Whatever happened, it wrecked her. She's practically inconsolable.
Now I understand what it means to want to burn down the world for the woman you love. I want to crack some skulls. I want somebody to hurt the way she's hurting. How dare they, whoever they are? Of all people, she doesn't deserve whatever that asshole put her through. Whoever he is.
“Come on. Calm yourself down.” Ryder leans closer to her, touching his forehead to her shoulder. “Do you want me to go get you some water?”
For some reason, the idea freaks her out. She sits up straight, shaking her head hard while her eyes bulge. Bloodshot, tear-filled eyes. What I wouldn't give to take that pain away, but first I need to know where the pain is coming from. Why won't she say anything? Ryder’s right, she needs to calm down. She's as close to hyperventilating as anyone I've ever seen and in the few minutes since she came stumbling into her office, the intensity hasn’t lessened. She's just as upset as she was before. Maybe even more.
“It's okay,” I murmur, settling in on her left while Ryder sits on the right. “We won't leave you alone. We'll stay here with you.”
