22. KOA
22
KOA
Rolling over, I check the time on the clock. Fuck. I slept a lot longer than I planned. The last few days have been emotionally draining and hell on my sleep cycle.
I rub my eyes and let out a long yawn. I was going to head up to Ray’s and wait for Sydney to get off work but she’ll be leaving any minute now.
I grab a clean shirt and shorts and throw them on before I go downstairs to get something to eat. I’m fucking starving after sleeping most of the evening. I haven’t eaten anything since the breakfast we had before we got on the team bus.
Nash is asleep at the dining room table and using one of his textbooks as a pillow. Poor guy. The late nights and early mornings are catching up with him too. I should wake him up and get him downstairs so he can get a few decent hours of sleep before morning workouts.
I’m in the process of folding down his laptop and stacking his notes and textbooks when his phone starts to ring with a familiar song. Sydney’s ringtone .
I check the time on the microwave clock. She should be on her way home. Why is she calling this late? Maybe she calls Nash every night on her drive home.
Intuition is telling me this isn't a nightly tradition and there is something else going on.
“Hi, baby,” I say, acting casual. I don’t want to freak her out if she’s alright. She doesn’t say anything. Is she mad I answered or is something else going on?
“Are you okay?” I ask, full with worry. Her breathing gets heavier and then I hear her sniffling. She’s crying. “What’s wrong?”
“My tires.” She sniffles aggressively. “They’re flat.”
“All of them?” I question, as calmly as I can.
“Yes,” she says, her breathing returning to normal the more we talk. “I must have run over a broken beer bottle or something.”
“Is anyone there with you?”
“No. Everyone left already. There is one car in the parking lot. I could go see—”
“No,” I say, cutting her off. “If you aren’t already, I need you to get in your car and lock the doors.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and call her on my phone. “Switch lines. That’s me calling you.”
“Okay. Hello.” Her sweet voice echoes through my soul. I hang up Nash’s phone and leave it on the table.
“Hey, baby.” I hold my phone against my chest. “Nash,” I smack him on the arm jostling him awake. “I’m going to go get Syd from work. She’s having car issues. ”
“Do you need me to go with you?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.
I shake my head. “I’m good. Go to bed. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.” Walking out the door, I hold the phone back to my ear. “I’m on my way. Don’t open the door or window for any reason. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah. I got it. You’re starting to scare me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.” I place the call on speaker phone, trying to remain calm as I start my car. I peel out of my parking spot and down the main road that will take me off campus.
I have an eerie feeling. What are the chances that all four of her tires went flat from broken glass in the parking lot? It seems highly unlikely to me.
“How was work tonight?” I ask. I need more information. I don’t understand how something like this could happen.
“Really busy. A lot of regulars showed up for my last night. It’s probably a good thing you couldn’t make it. We needed your table,” she jokes, but she’s hiding something.
“I’m sure Margo appreciated the extra tips from customers who have more than one beer a night.”
“She did but I think she missed seeing your face for whatever reason,” she says, then hesitates.
“What? You sound like you’ve got something else to say.”
“He came back.”
Her words send a chill down my spine. I know exactly who she's talking about and it makes me hit the gas a little harder. “Did anything happen? ”
“No, well, it was weird. He was just sitting there drinking a beer. It was creepy.”
If I wasn’t so fucking worried at the moment, I would take offense to this statement.
“What kind of car is in the parking lot?”
“I don’t know. It's really dark. It’s white and it has a black racing stripe down the side.”
Fuck. That’s the asshole’s car. He did this. I know it in my gut.
“Is there anyone in the car? Can you tell?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. It probably belongs to someone who was too drunk to drive home,” she says, with a slight tremble in her voice. She’s putting on her strong act. Sydney has always been the kind of person to keep it together until the very end.
“Don’t apologize. You’re doing good.” The light turns red in front of me and I want to be mad but this gives me a minute to send a text to Hart.
He’s the only person I know who’ll be up. He’s always up late watching documentaries with Lauren.
Me
I need you to call the cops and send them to Ray’s.
Sydney’s tires got slashed. I’m driving there now. I’ll explain later.
Hart
Give me a minute .
I tap my thumb against the steering wheel waiting for the light and his text. I’ll feel better knowing cops are enroute.
Hart
Done. They’re on their way. Text us when you can.
“You’re quiet,” she says, cutting through all my worried thoughts.
“That’s not new information.”
“Have you always been quiet?”
“No. My mom always called me her little chatterbox. Once I started, I didn’t know how to stop.”
“Why did you stop?”
This isn’t something I want to talk about over the phone but if it keeps her mind occupied while she waits for me and the police then fine.
“There are two reasons I turned into a quiet kid when you met me. One reason was because of Hart. I hated how other kids treated him when he wouldn’t talk. I thought if we were both quiet then maybe the kids at school wouldn’t tease him so much. Or if they did, they would have to deal with both of us.”
“That’s really sweet of you.”
“I told you I was a nice guy. I might not always make the right decisions, but I make them with good intentions.”
“I never said you weren’t nice. I know you’re a good guy. I’ve never questioned that. I’ve questioned if you were a good guy for me.”
“One day you won’t have to question that anymore. ”
“I think you’re right,” she says, and my heart lights up with hope.
“You do?”
“You said there were two reasons you stopped talking all the time. What was the other one?” she asks, returning to our earlier conversation.
“When I was twelve I moved to Alabama and I met this girl. She loved stories as much as I loved having her talk to me. I figured out early on if I stayed quiet long enough, she would fill the silence with her stories.”
“Koa…that’s…Koa,” she says my name a second time in a deep whisper. It would be sexy if there wasn’t a hint of fear in her tone.
“What is it?” I practically shout.
“The lights. The lights on the car. They just came on.”
“I’m almost there. Hold tight for ten minutes. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah. I can do that.” The tremor in her voice is destroying me. I’m coming up on the exit. I’ll be there soon but it’s not good enough. I need to be there now.
“Did he get out of the car?”
“He? How do you know it’s a man?” she asks, half hysterical. “Koa, how do you know? It’s him, isn’t it? He did this to my car.”
“The police are on their way. Please—”
“Koa, he’s driving over here.”
Fuck. I push the gas harder. Why does this place have to be out in the middle of nowhere?
“What’s happening? Keep talking to me. As long as you’re talking you’re okay.” As long as she’s talking she’s okay . Maybe if I keep repeating it over and over I’ll believe it.
“He’s opening the door and getting out of his car.”
“Listen to me, Syd. I know you don’t like me telling you what to do, but I need you to do this for me. You ignore him. Don’t react to whatever he says or does. You don’t give him the satisfaction of letting him think he’s getting to you.”
“What if he breaks the window or something and he can get to me?”
Then he’s a dead man.
There’s a loud thud followed by a scream from Sydney.
“You listen to my voice. Not his,” I say as he curses at her through the car window.
Her agreement is lost among tears and sharp inhales of fear.
“Tell me what happens with Vincent and Aster,” I say to distract her.
“Wh-what?”
“Give me the best spoilers. Just like you used to. Does Aster pick Vincent or is she going to break my heart and pick Troy?”
“There is a crazy man banging on my window and you want me to tell you about a book?” she hisses.
“Yes. I want to know everything.”
“Bitch, I know you can hear me. Open the fucking door or I’ll bust it open,” he screams at my girl.
“Tell me about the badass queen in the story, baby” I say, knowing full well I’m talking to the queen in mine.
With a slight tremor in her voice she tells me parts of The Magic of Fire and Bones I haven’t read yet. As I figured, Troy was out for himself—the one that looks like the good guy never is. Nothing is ever what it seems.
The banging continues on her window. I’m surprised he hasn’t punched his fist through the glass yet.
“V-Vincent isn’t helping as much as giving orders to her. He acts like he doesn’t like her but I think he’s secretly falling in love with her. He just doesn’t know what to do because he’s not supposed to love her.”
“I knew it. Why not?”
“Because he was poor and she turned out to be a queen. He wasn’t allowed to like her.”
As I wait to turn on to the two lane street leading to Ray’s, three cop cars come up behind me with lights and sirens, blowing through the light and disappearing down the road.
“I hear sirens. He’s backing off and walking back to his car. He’s going to get away.”
“No, he won’t. They will get the road barricaded and stop him before he gets that far.”
“But that means you can’t get in.”
“Nothing can’t stop me from getting to you,” I say as I pull up behind the cop car.
I roll down my window and wait for one of the officers standing at the barricade to approach my car.
“This road is closed. I’m going to have to ask you to turn around. ”
“My girlfriend is the woman in the parking lot with the slashed tires. I would really like to be the one to give her a ride home.”
He gives me an understanding nod. “Give me a moment,” he says, then goes back to his cruiser.
“Sydney, are you there?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“The cop is coming back.”
“The other unit is coming out now with the perpetrator. Once they’ve cleared the location, we’ll let you through and you can take your girlfriend home.”
“Great. Thank you.”
“You can follow us down,” he says. He walks back to his car and gets inside. He maneuvers the cruiser so it’s no longer blocking the road.
The other cop passes in the opposite lane after stopping beside the officer in front of me and having a brief conversation.
I keep my head focused on what’s in front of me. This guy doesn’t deserve a second glance. The only thing I can think about is getting to Sydney.
As soon as I’m parked, I’m out of my car and rushing over to her. She’s frozen, sitting in her car.
“We tried to get her out but she didn’t respond,” an officer says as I pass him .
“Thanks. I’ll give it a go.” Even with my gentle approach, she flinches when I make it to her window. I place my palm against the warm glass. It’s something we used to do when we were teenagers.
If one of us were grounded and trapped in our bedroom, we would put our palm against the window and wait for the other one to hear our call. It was our way of letting the other person know we were there for them.
Her arm lifts and her palm presses against mine. The lock on the door clicks and I whip it open. For a second I think I should approach her with caution, but I need to feel her in my arms. I know this whole situation scared her more than she’ll let on.
Hell, sitting alone in a dark parking lot is scary enough without having some creep watching you across the lot, and then banging against your car and yelling obscenities at you.
Before I get a chance to scoop her up she is unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing out of the car. Silently she collects her book bag and cleans the back seat of her car, throwing miscellaneous items into a large reusable shopping bag. She pulls out her phone and begins to type furiously.
“Let me put these in my car.” I take her bags and put them in the backseat of my Camaro. “Is there anything else you need?”
She shakes her head, placing her phone to her ear. She sighs in frustration and then starts scrolling on her phone again.
“What are you doing?” I ask, approaching her.
“Trying to call for a tow. I need to get it to a shop. I need my car.”
Reaching for her phone, I say, “Let me—”
“I don’t need you taking care of me,” she snaps, cutting me off. “I don’t need you looking out for me. I can do this myself. Soon I’m going to be living alone in a state hundreds of miles away. You won’t be there to swoop in and save the day every time,” she says, frantically. The fuck I won’t. I cover my hand over hers and slowly remove her phone from her hand.
She is independent and strong. I love this about her. It isn’t her fault I’m the one with this overwhelming desire to take care of her. I also hear what she’s saying underneath her armor.
She feels alone. Her life is changing faster than she can blink at the moment and she’s feeling the impact. I want to reassure her I’m not going anywhere. If she thinks I’m not going to try everything I can to get drafted to North Carolina, she would be dead fucking wrong.
“I know you can do this by yourself, but I also know someone who can help.” I look up the contact on my phone and hit the call button.
“Kind of late for a call, man,” Milo says, tapping away on his keyboard.
“Don’t act like you were about to go to sleep. I can hear you gaming.”
“You know me well. What can I do for you?”
“I’m going to pass the phone to Sydney. She’ll tell you what she needs,” I say, my eyes focused on her. She rolls her eyes with a hint of a smile.
“Milo is Gage’s older brother. He runs the garage in town with his dad.” I hand over my phone.
While she’s working out the details with Milo, I seek out answers from the police officers who have been walking around casing the place and noting details from the incident.
“Hi. I was wondering if we were okay to leave or if you needed to talk to her tonight?” I ask the officer who has been searching through the guy’s car.
“I would like to get her side of things tonight for my report but she can make a formal statement at the station tomorrow. I’m sure she's ready to call it a night. Ray has cameras filming the parking lot. We’ll come back and get the footage from him to see if we caught him on tape.”
“Thank you,” I say, shaking his hand.
“Here’s my number if you need me for anything,” he says, passing me a small white card. “Stay close to her tonight. She’s lucky he wasn’t able to crack her window.” The officer nods toward Sydney.
“I don’t plan on letting her out of my sight for the rest of my life.”
He nods and I take that as my cue to leave and check on Sydney.
“Is everything all set?” I ask.
“Yep. He’ll be here early in the morning to pick it up and he’s going to call me when the new tires are on.”
“He couldn’t come tonight?”
“He offered, but I told him it can wait until the morning. It can’t get any worse.” She pouts, looking at her car one last time.
“Come on. Let’s talk to the cops so we can get out of here.” I put an arm around her and usher her toward the officer who seems to be in charge. She tells them everything that she remembers from seeing the guy at the bar—in my motherfucking seat no less—and then walking out to her car.
He makes his notes, repeats what he told me about the video cameras, and confirms that Sydney wasn’t harmed physically. The bile in my stomach crawled up my throat at the thought.
“We’ll be in touch,” he says, leaving us to finish taking photos and examining the guy’s car.
I open the door for her and wait for her to sit down. “I’ll take you to the station first thing in the morning to file charges.” I buckle and start the engine.
“I’ll get Nash to take me. You have baseball stuff and classes in the morning,” she says, staring absentmindedly out the window. She has her arms wrapped so tightly around herself you would think she was cold. I turn down the air conditioning just in case but I have a feeling she’s cold with fear.
“Why don’t you call Lauren and let her know you’re okay? She’s probably worried,” I say.
“How does she know what happened?” Sydney picks up her phone where I dropped it in the console next to mine.
“I needed Hart to call the police for me. I didn’t want you to know how serious the situation was. I was afraid…” I hesitate, searching for the right words to describe how I felt.
“I couldn’t handle it?”
I shake my head. “No. You can handle anything. It’s more me wanting to shield you as much as I can. I wanted to protect your peace. I don’t think I did a good enough job.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she says, before hitting the call button on Lauren’s number.
Hearing the two of them talk brings mixed emotions out of me. It reminds me of when I didn't trust Lauren but at the same time I was glad Sydney had her friendship. Lauren was quiet and didn’t ever want to come over to our place when Sydney would visit. It wasn’t until she started hanging out with Hart and I got to know her, I realized she had the biggest heart. She's a fighter and cares about everyone. She was exactly who Sydney needed. Who we all needed.
Learning that Lauren was Sydney’s first real friend since me, wasn’t something I was happy to hear. I’ve failed her way too many times. I won’t do that to her anymore.
I stop at a drive-thru and pick up some food. I don’t know if I can eat after all of that or if she’s hungry but I would rather have it just in case.
When we get back to my place, I start wondering at what point she's going to start fighting me for bringing her here instead of dropping her off at her dorm. She's been quiet since she got off the phone with Lauren .
Sydney helps with carrying the food, while I grab her bags from the back seat. Once inside, she heads to the kitchen and sits down at the table. I follow her lead, leaving her bags by the stairs. I’m glad Nash made it to bed. I make a mental note to update him on everything in the morning.
We eat in silence. I want to ask her how she’s doing but I think the answer is obvious. She is processing tonight’s events and I want to give her the space to do that.
“How’d your games go?” she asks, as she throws away her trash.
“Good. It’s going to come down to the final games against Enzo and Marco.”
“They will love that.” She starts up the stairs and I trail behind her.
“I’m already getting texts from Enzo.”
She laughs, but it’s barely audible. “Do you have something I can wear to bed?” she asks, once we’re inside my room.
“Of course. Do you want to shower?” I glance over my shoulder, as I grab a shirt from my closet. She nods. “Come on.” I place a hand on her back and escort her to the bathroom.
I turn on the water then dig in the cabinet for an extra toothbrush, a new shower cap, and anything else she might need. “I’ll give you some privacy, but I’ll be right outside the door. If you need me, just yell.”
She nods and I leave her to wait in the hall. Ten minutes later, she opens the door and walks out in my shirt. Fuck she’s gorgeous .
“I’m going to brush my teeth and I’ll be right there. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says. I don’t believe her, but that’s okay. She’ll break when it’s time and then she can start to heal from this experience.
She’s already stretched out in bed staring at the ceiling fan when I enter the room. I turn off the overhead light, leaving only the dim lighting from the lamp on my side of the bed.
Removing my shorts and shirt, I crawl in beside her and wait for her to say something. Anything .
She moves closer until her arms are wrapped around me and she’s curled into my side. Looking up at me, she says, “I need you to help me forget.”
Letting out a deep sigh, I kiss her forehead and then reach for my glasses on the nightstand. “Give me a second,” I say, and she moves back, giving me enough space to move around.
I put on my glasses and then bend down and grab a book I have under the bed. “Come here,” I tell her. She pulls the covers over us and snuggles deep against my side. “Turn the pages for me?” I ask.
I don’t know how long I read. I don’t stop until her arm falls limp and the pages stop turning. Tomorrow might be a different story, but tonight Sydney is home. She’s safe. And she’s mine.