Chapter 11 Adrian
ADRIAN
The image of her using her arms to hug herself rips straight through me, knocking all the air out of my lungs.
But then.
I swear, a second later, her arms drop back at her sides. As if the vulnerability was a trick of the light. There one moment and gone the next.
“Hey, are you okay? Sonya darling—”
Her dark eyes go dull.
Ah, fuck. Rookie mistake. I called her darling.
Based on my reputation, I bet she thinks I use the same line on every other woman.
My stomach wrenches, this anchor dropping straight through the bottom.
She’s never going to change her perception of me.
It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve tried to show her other sides of me, because my past isn’t a lie.
It’s a proven track record. Before I met Sonya, I spent most of my career jumping from one fling to another.
But that doesn’t matter right now.
Around us, the stage is being emptied. Whoever the older lady was that ordered the curtains shut—she stormed away.
Sonya tries following, but my forearm claims her mid-section. “Hey, darling? You didn’t answer. Are you okay?“
We’re facing opposite directions. I can’t see her expression, but her nails prick into my skin. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” I insist.
“I’m fine.”
Her answers are robotic. Like all her frustration has just zipped back inside her, and now it’s sealed tight, with everything else she must be feeling shoved in there, too.
It’s not nothing. Not after what just happened.
I try to shake the image of her falling, but it’s looping in my head. Wrecking me.
Sonya starts pulling away. I panic.
I don’t know what to say next. She won’t meet my eyes. So maybe I have to push harder.
“Hey, don’t make me pull out the big guns.” What big guns? Who the fuck knows? My mouth won’t stop running. “Just tell me what’s going on?”
No response.
“Let me in,” I singsong, while internally cringing. Because I have no idea if this is working, at all. At least she isn’t pulling away anymore.
Still nothing.
Like a jackass, I laugh. “I’m running out of cheesy lines here, Sonya. Either talk to me or I’m seriously gonna start embarrassing myself. Not that it’s a problem. I don’t mind going on. It’s been a while since I saw you. Have you missed me? Because I’ve definitely missed—”
She groans, this exasperated sound cutting me off. Tilting her head to look up at me, her eyes are full of fire. Not flat like I was scared they’d be. “Why must you be so obnoxious?” she grits out.
I grin, absurdly relieved that she’s speaking to me. I’d rather she be angry at me than…possibly at herself. “That’s just my personality! Please respect my vibes, darling.”
“Go away—”
“First, tell me what happened.” Please.
“Nothing happened. I fell.” Her arms twitch as if she’s about to wrap them around herself again, but she doesn’t. “It’s not a big deal.”
“As long as you’re not hurt…” I start.
“I’m not.”
“At least let me know if you need anything. I can help.”
Backlit by the stage lights, the strands of her dark hair seem to glow. This tiny ugh noise escapes her. “You know what, I’ll be calling Quinn later to yell at him for sending you here. I don’t need to be checked up on. I was going to call him back.”
Cue the sound of her familiar quiet snarling…
It relaxes my spine. My next smile is more genuine because she can lash out. Grumble. Roll her eyes. I’ve bugged her plenty. Years of trying to get her to open up. Probably deserve her frowns by now.
Sonya has free rein to do whatever she wants with me, as long as she’s not hurting. That’s a deal I’ll take every time, no questions asked.
She wriggles away, and her finger jabs my chest. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
I smirk. “Given the choice, I’d much rather be around you.”
“Like you watch ballet,” she scoffs.
“Should I rip up my season’s subscription to your studio?” My voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper. “Are you telling me to not support the arts?”
“Yes, to all of the above,” she snaps. “Don’t you get it? You’re not supposed to be here. So even if my overprotective brother asks you to spy on me, never listen to him.”
My smile freezes in place. Never? Does that also mean she never wants to see me?
I guess since the last time we met, nothing’s changed. She doesn’t want me around. I should take that as the rejection it is and move on.
Why can’t I do that?
Her nostrils flare. “I’m good, so you can go. I’m going to go find my dance mistress, which means leave.”
I debate stopping her, but her parting look halts me in my tracks. It screams that if I push any harder, she’ll never forgive me. There’s this distress behind her dark eyes. As if she can’t handle this conversation any longer and needs to be alone.
I watch her leave. Then I have no choice but to force myself to walk out of the building. Later, when I’m back home, my cat, Diana, watches me repeatedly rub my face while I pace.
“She said she’s fine,” I say. “But I should tell Quinn about her performance, right?”
I take my phone out. I’ve already texted Quinn that I’d found Sonya, but I haven’t mentioned what happened on stage yet. That follow-up message is already drafted.
Turning the screen over, I let Diana read it.
Mayday! Sonya fell! Come home right away! Let’s assemble a team to see what she needs!
On that team would be Kavi. And grumpy Lokhov. And me, of course. And we’d sit Sonya down and ask her what’s going on, and she would…
Hate us. Hate me.
My shoulders curl in, when I imagine her reaction. I have a pretty solid gut feeling that she’d actually never speak to me if Quinn came home once I tell him about her fall. I wrinkle my brow and chew on my lip.
She said she was okay, Adrian.
But is she? If I go against her word, does it mean I don’t trust that she knows her own feelings? Is that…misogynistic?
I drop down on the couch and groan. Diana plops down on my lap, telling me in her own way to calm down. And that I’m behind schedule. I should be reviewing more hours of game tape.
Because if I don’t, I’ll also fail my teammates. That’s not an exaggeration. Being the captain of the Wings is more than having an extra letter stitched on my jersey.
I’m responsible for leading the team during our games and practices. I’m also the designated liaison between the team, coaches, and management. It’s my job to make sure we’re all working towards the same goals. On and off the ice, I have to be the glue that pulls us together.
If I do all that…
A great captain can flip a losing streak into a winning streak.
There’s a problem, though.
I haven’t been feeling like a great captain lately, no matter how hard I try. Nothing I’m doing is working.
I cuddle Diana, sneezing multiple times in a row. The allergy pills are too far away. I don’t want to stop petting her.
Diana licks my cheek. I sigh. Okay. I’ll watch the game tape now, so I can figure out how we can win again before our new season starts.
And I’ll wait a few days before prodding Quinn, to see if Sonya told him about what happened herself.
If she doesn’t, then I’ll mention it. That’s my plan for now.