Chapter Thirteen
The Edge coffee house was practically deserted as Razor chugged down the rest of her iced caramel macchiato. A cold drink on a freezing February morning probably wasn’t smart, but the small potbellied stove in the corner made it cozy enough to have her drink of choice without shivering.
She’d discovered The Edge on her way to practice one day when she’d taken a detour down Aggie Road.
She’d needed a little pick-me-up after returning late from another tournament, then turning around and opening Slugfest the following morning.
She took in the quaint decor of the house turned coffee shop, furnished in solid oak round dining tables with mismatched wooden chairs.
Whenever she walked through the door, she was immediately greeted with a warm smile and a thick Southern accent.
What the place lacked in space it more than made up for in coffee.
Razor was surprised they didn’t have a sign boasting Best Coffee In Jonesboro on the window.
And when paired with a fresh blueberry muffin?
She nearly drooled on their beautifully polished oak floor as those two aromas mixed together.
Razor arrived this day after the morning rush, long after muffins had been baked and sold, and all that remained was the quiet guitar of a folk song playing on the stereo in the background.
Every so often the bell above the door announced the arrival of a customer, and the espresso machine whirred to life.
Ice rattled as Razor set down her cup without looking up, her focus on her laptop with the panel list for the sport psychology conference that April in New York.
She’d seen the flyers posted throughout the department, and Professor White encouraged her students to take advantage of the online panel discussions since they were free and offered extra credit to students who showed proof of attending.
Ashton had revealed her plan to attend in person, excitement dancing in her eyes.
Razor couldn’t help but catch the same fever and knew the panels were on topics she probably wouldn’t be privy to unless she took advanced psychology classes someday.
But the old adage knowledge is power burned brightly in Razor’s brain, and this conference, even attended remotely, was a vat of knowledge to be tapped.
She scrolled through the list, looking at times as well as content.
With her busy schedule, she’d be able to take refuge at Slugfest to log in to morning sessions, since they didn’t open until eleven, and none of her classes were until the afternoon.
Now if she could only find panels that interested her at that time.
As she hit the second page, one panel caught her attention: The panelists were members of a team who confronted their coach after being verbally abused for a season.
As a result of the confrontation, they discovered they weren’t the first to report him, but a cover-up by the staff had kept him in power for years.
Razor didn’t think twice before registering, and she added her name to list of attendees.
“That must be some intense homework assignment if you’re taking it out on your keyboard. Should I be worried?”
Razor looked up and smiled when she saw Courtney standing there. “Nothing you need to worry about, Coach.”
Courtney guffawed and took the vacant seat across from her. “Please. When we’re not on the field, it’s just Courtney.”
“Fair enough. What brings you by?”
She huffed as she set down her briefcase and sipped her iced coffee, sighing contentedly. “I needed a little caffeine before I pick up the boys from daycare. I have to run them home, feed them, pass them off to my husband once he walks in, then head over to practice.”
Laughter bubbled out of Razor. “Are they running you ragged?”
“You have no idea,” Courtney admitted. “Four-year-old twins were not in the cards. Between them, the game schedule, and my coaching duties, I’m worn out. I’m surprised Grant hasn’t filed for divorce yet.”
“Nah, Grant loves you. And he’s a former athlete, so he knows what this entails.”
A sweet smile graced Courtney’s face at the thought of her husband. “I know. And he does love spending time with the boys. I can see he’s itching for them to start playing so he can coach them.”
“Well, y’all have a standing reservation at Slugfest anytime you want to use it. I even have a T-ball cage.”
Courtney raised her cup in salute. “I plan to take you up on that. It’s cheaper than downing coffee drinks every hour.”
They small-talked for a little bit longer about Courtney’s family and Razor’s classes, and eventually it came around to Summer.
“We’re getting there,” Razor stated. “The first couple of weeks were rough, but we started coming together after the Memphis trip.”
“I know it didn’t go exactly the way we’d hoped, but we righted the ship.
Three out of four at the Alvy Early Memorial Classic, then three more wins at the Raising Cane’s Softball Festival have given the Hornets a winning season for the first time in forever.
Who knew one little trip to D&B could make all the difference. ”
Razor nodded. Yes, that weekend, that event had been the turning point.
How the weekend ended, though, still weighed heavily on her mind.
She’d promised Harper and Summer she’d never outright tell Courtney they’d lied, but she hated lying, even by omission.
If there was one thing Razor had learned, lying only led to more problems.
“We’ve definitely improved,” Razor said somberly.
“That we have.”
They sat silently, which was strange. They never had an issue keeping conversation going, but something was off. Courtney obviously had something on her mind.
“Are you worried we’ll regress?” Razor asked. “I know we’re still working on a few things, but an eight–seven record isn’t bad at all.”
“No, nothing like that, it’s just…” Courtney paused, took a deep breath and dived right in. “Have you heard from Haley?”
Razor tensed, flexing her hands on the table. “Why would I hear from Haley?”
“She called me this morning.”
Razor breathed deeply through her nose. She hadn’t heard Haley’s name in ages. She didn’t even name her when she told Ashton about the assault.
“What did she have to say?”
“The FBI contacted her. They’re investigating Gary.
” Razor sat back, stunned. “Apparently, he assaulted a student up in Idaho. When she tried to file charges, the administration swept it under the rug. So she went over their head, and law enforcement found similar complaints on him through the years at different universities.”
“But why contact Haley?”
Courtney shrugged. “My guess is they’re tracking down any players Gary came into contact with to see what shakes out.”
A mixture of emotions flooded Razor’s mind. She was elated Gary would finally answer for his crimes, but also angry it had taken so long. Angry at herself, specifically.
“Have they contacted you?” Courtney asked warily.
Razor shook her head. “You?”
“No,” Courtney replied. “Haley called to give me a heads-up that it may be coming.”
“How did she sound?” Razor choked on the emotion threatening to spring forth.
“Good. We talked for a little bit. Caught up.” Courtney paused. “She asked me how you were doing.”
“Really?” Razor was surprised.
“I think she’s ashamed and feels guilty about what she did. Or in this case, what she didn’t do.”
Razor shook her head. “Tell her she has nothing to be ashamed of, and that I’m doing okay.”
Courtney leaned across the table with a determined gaze. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re taking all the blame again. But I know the truth. I was there. What you did, you did with your heart. You wanted justice for your friend.”
“Did I?”
“Razor…”
“No, Courtney, don’t defend me,” she insisted. “Yeah, I got caught up in the whole hashtag #MeToo, wanting justice for all women who’d been taken advantage of. But in the end, I wound up being no better than those who made false allegations to get their fifteen minutes of fame.”
“You’re nothing like those people. You didn’t make false allegations. You didn’t seek notoriety. You wanted Haley to not feel alone, to not have to testify alone, to have someone in her corner.”
“And in doing so, I ended up losing my team, my school, my friends. Not to mention, Gary walked away free as a bird.”
She was happy the coffee house was empty as her voice rose.
“I’m sorry, Razor. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s okay.”
“For what it’s worth, I think what you did was very admirable.”
“How is what I did admirable?”
Courtney’s eyes softened, and she smiled. “Because you protected Haley. You never named her. You took a lot of abuse, and it was all to keep her safe.”
The tension slowly ebbed. They sat quietly, allowing the emotions to envelop them, until the alarm on Courtney’s watch went off.
“I need to pick up the boys.”
Courtney slung her messenger bag across her chest, then threw her cup in the nearby trash bin. She opened the heavy oak door, and a gust of freezing wind sneaked through the crack.
“I’ll see you at practice?”
Razor gave a tight smile. “I’ll be there.”
Courtney returned a similar smile, then headed out into the cold. Razor closed her eyes and regrouped before opening her laptop to resume her task. But the screen blurred, and she couldn’t focus. She slammed the thing closed and covered her face with her hands, willing the tears to stay away.
* * *
Ashton abhorred the sound of fingernails tapping against glass. Partner that with Razor’s deafening silence as she stared into the firepit in Ashton’s yard like she was trying to find answers among the sparks and flames, and Ashton nearly lost her patience.