Chapter 27 #2
But that’s not what he did, and that’s what’s literally suffocating my insides. His fingers remained gentle and sure. Then, he snuggled me inside his clothes and surrounded me with his body.
My stomach twists, attempting to wring itself of everything foreign.
Tracker must see it and sits forward again, his voice tender. “Ry.”
I can’t look at him.
Shit!
I blow out a breath, wanting it to purge whatever is happening.
“All of this is ok. I want you to know that.”
I swallow bile and tears.
Ha. Nothing about any of this is ok.
“You don’t have to be afraid. Not of him.”
I’d really like to ask him how the hell he knows that.
But I can’t because my freaking throat is being eaten alive with all the times I was afraid, and my instincts fired correctly.
The looks of complete horror. The pity. The “I’m sorrys” that make me want to knock that person’s lights out.
“I’m sorry” is just a fucking excuse to slink away when someone can’t handle what I’ve actually lived through. What I’ve endured and survived.
I couldn’t handle it from Cole. I just. . .couldn’t.
“You’re heading to The O after you pick him up?” His switch in topic is a minor relief, and all I can do is nod.
Eventually, I add, “He asked Cole if he’d be back.”
“Where do you go from here with these threats?” He casually sips his coffee, shifting us back into work mode, fully aware I need it.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I want to hear what he learned in this meeting, but without a pattern, it’s difficult to predict. The only consistency is football.”
“When is his next game?”
“This Sunday. He’ll be gone overnight, so we need someone planted outside his hotel door.”
Track makes a note.
“He also has a fundraising event coming up. After that, it’s his bye week.”
“Is he sticking around for that?” Track sets his pen on his desk.
My face scrunches, waking the soreness in my cheek. “Yeah. His sister has been nagging him about going to Denver for Thanksgiving. He’s never mentioned wanting to go, though.”
Tracker’s hand runs over his jaw.
I check my watch and push out of the chair. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Hey.” Tracker stops me. “Let me know what came out of this meeting. Maybe we need to start from scratch and identify what we’re missing. This guy knows what he’s doing and is getting more aggressive.”
Yep. All my jacked-up feelings and emotional overload will be shoved aside so I can focus on figuring out what this guy is planning next.
Tracker is right. They’re escalating, and I won’t be letting them anywhere near Cole again.
______
“Why is it lately, every time I’m in this chair, I feel like I’m either going to hyperventilate or puke?”
Kerry laughs. “Well, there’s a lot that’s stirring things for you. Things you like to remain undisturbed.”
My eyes roll to the corner, peeking at her and her astute description of exactly what’s happening.
I want to crawl out of my skin, and she knows it.
I stand to stretch and walk to the window, watching Cole toss a football to the boy who has informed us his name is Matt. It bounces off his small hand and rolls toward the pool.
Kerry joins me, both of us staring out at the backyard and the two of them. The tall, handsome athlete with the world at his fingertips and the forgotten little boy who was pulled from the pits of hell.
Matt tries to place his fingers around the football and uses his whole body to throw it back.
“Do you think some of this discomfort and confusion may be related to experiencing something you’ve never allowed yourself to wonder about before?” She pauses, letting that shit just sit there and waft around me like the stink of a skunk.
It’s alarmingly suffocating and will linger for some time after we’re done.
“What if you quit fighting yourself?” she adds oh-so-calmly as if she’s not stepping into sacred territory.
I might not be familiar with what exactly this territory holds, but I can feel the thick layers of walls she’s pushing against, and I am not here for it. Not today.
I twist toward her, but her attention remains on the game of catch outside, clearly unbothered by my pure and outrageous annoyance.
“It’s ok to let yourself explore, Ryder.”
Explore.
Now, I might really vomit all over her cozy office.
I rest my hand on the window ledge, seeking grounding amid the whirlwind of anxiety that’s taking flight with her words.
“Ryder, I sat with him and that little boy. He’s beautiful, and I’m not talking about his physical appearance.
” She finally faces me, resting her hip against the windowsill while I force myself to breathe evenly.
“You don’t have to force it. Maybe just. .
.give yourself permission to be open to whatever it is you’re feeling. ”
“I don’t want to be open to anything,” I say with complete honesty.
She laughs, but it’s subtle. “Honey, I think that’s exactly the problem. You can tell yourself that all you want, but in here,” she spreads one hand over her chest, the other over her stomach. “There’s a longing for something different, and it’s ok to let yourself want those things.”
I pull air in, holding it. I don’t want to fucking feel anything.
“Just be patient with yourself.” She turns back toward the window. “I think you have plenty of time to sort this out.”
I peek at Cole and his breathtaking smile as he pulls his arm back and gently releases the ball. I think that’s it. I don’t want to spend time figuring this out. If I did, if I allowed myself, what then? Where in the hell would I go from there? Just like always, it wouldn’t be anywhere good.
I leave Kerry’s office, not feeling any better. Before heading outside, I stop in the kitchen. If I can’t kick the absolute shit out of something, maybe chocolate will help.
Hope is pouring boiling water from a kettle into a mug.
“I was hoping I’d see you.” She sets the kettle back on the stove and reaches for a hug, but stops mid-lean to inspect my cheek. Her lips push to the side. “It was a hell of a night, huh?” She hugs and releases me.
“Yeah.” I tug open the fridge, desperate for some kind of sugary zap of relief, but settle for a handful of grapes.
What I need is a half dozen of Cole’s winning cookies.
I pop a grape in my mouth. “Matt, huh? Think that’s his real name?”
Her mouth curls into a subtle smile. “If not, he chose wisely. He’s smart. He knows a good quarterback and a good name when she sees one.”
The kid has great instincts.
Hope wraps her hands around her mug. “It was a rough night. He didn’t sleep much, but when he did, it was squished into the corner on the floor.”
She carries her tea and follows me from the kitchen to the back of the house. “It was nice of him to come today. Matt asked about him.” She pauses. “He’s really good with him.”
He’s good with me.
The thought startles me, and it’s suddenly a bit harder to breathe.
I inhale and let it out, stopping near the back door. “We told him we would, but we need to be careful. I don’t want him to get attached.”
There’s something about those words that pinches me right in the center of the chest. Hard.
Hope nods. “He’ll have to be placed in a home, but I’m hoping that if we give him a little time here, it’ll make it easier. I hate to throw him into another strange environment just yet.”
My body tenses at the thought of him going somewhere with people he doesn’t know or trust. He hasn’t even had time to learn to trust us.
Hope pulls the door open, and we step out where Cole and Matt sit at a table, watching videos on his phone again.
Cole’s eyes flick to mine, but his gaze falls away just as fast.
There are so many unspoken questions I’m not prepared to answer.
That brilliant smile appears, and my stomach sucks itself in tight.
“See right there.” Cole points to his phone. “They weren’t even expecting it. Total fake out. It’s called a sneak.”
“You doing all right?” Hope asks as if she can sense my turmoil.
I stare at Cole and his blue eyes that hold nothing but gentleness as he explains the next play to Matt.
I’m absolutely not ok.
“Yeah.” I lie.
Patience. Let myself explore.
It sounds awful, like complete torture.
Cole peeks at me again. He blinks once. Twice. His smile falters a little, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
I wonder if it’s possible he feels any of these strange things I do.