Chapter 7
Seven
KNOX
While we scrimmage the next day, I notice that Hope’s reading something at the side lines. When her face twists and she stands, I forget the field and end up getting tackled. Coach Carpenter yells about my focus while Ben takes my hand and helps me up.
He gives me a weird look. “You good?”
“Yeah, fine,” I say, patting his chest. “Good tackle.”
We restart the play and I catch Dimitri staring at me.
I toss the ball to Jaxon and can feel Dimitri’s stare on me again.
He edges closer and slams his shoulder into my stomach, just below my padding.
I get him off me and Jaxon scores a touchdown, but Dimitri swats my helmet nearly hard enough to turn it around. I shove him. “Hope’s reading.”
He looks up at her and I do the same. She keeps gripping the paper in her hand—it’s her file. Her fingers scrunch and release over and over again. When Coach Carpenter calls a break, I tell Dimitri I’ll handle it. He snorts at me but goes to get water with Jaxon.
I sit next to her and offer her some water. She gulps it, then makes a face. “Water.”
“Were you expecting tequila?” I joke.
Hope looks from the file to me and back.
She flips over to a page and takes a breath.
“Based on my own personal experience with Coach Harbaugh, I’m concerned that Hope is showing a pattern of false memories or a lack of touch with reality.
She’s able to provide a great deal of descriptions and her emotions are real, however, there’s no evidence of hospital visits or other information that confirms her experiences.
Perhaps the three men she’s with have fed her delusions.
It’s hard to say what trouble this can cause in Hope’s psyche and beyond. ”
“What the fuck,” I breathe.
“Didn’t you read it?”
“I read your stuff, not the notes at the end. I probably should have done it the other way around,” I admit.
She looks at me for a long moment, her eyes filling up, then shakes her head slowly. “Why is it always like this, Knox?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I don’t know what to tell her. I didn’t believe her either. Dimitri and Jax didn’t believe her. We believed her dad. Everyone did.
“We shouldn’t have pushed for this. I’m sorry, Hope. It’s fucked up and we were fucking idiots for believing what he said from the start. It was fucking insane,” I mutter. Then I see her pulling at her shirt, trying to hide the scar we left on her.
I gently trace it with my finger, then lift her chin. I lean towards her and press my forehead against hers. “She’s fucking wrong. You know what happened. We know what happened. She can go fuck herself with this file and I hope she gets every papercut she deserves instead of coming.”
It’s supposed to make her laugh, but she just stares at me. “If a therapist doesn’t believe…”
“Then it’s because she’s biased and that means it’s a damn good thing that Jaxon broke in. Because we know. We know she’s a fraud who can’t be trusted. That means we can do something about it, right?”
She shrugs, then slumps, willing to rest her head on my shoulder. I stare down at her, then rub her back. Coach Carpenter yells that we all need to be back on the field and I kiss the top of Hope’s head.
“We’ll take care of this,” I whisper against her hair.
“I won’t let you,” she mutters.
“You will if we decide to do something about it,” I argue, stroking up her back and playing with her hair as she stares up at me. “We’re bigger, stronger, and much more willing to be bad.”
HOPE
She doesn’t believe me. She doesn’t believe me.
She believes my dad.
My terrible, asshole dad who created the best possible defense: a legacy.
He helped people. He focused on the kids he saw potential in, the ones who were in the worst situation, and brought them up to a level where they could sing his praises.
He did “so much for the community.” He helped people, donated funds, set up charity drives.
A man who does all that couldn’t possibly be hiding something.
A man whose wife left him, a man dealing with his whore of a daughter, a spitting image of her mother, and still trying his best for the world couldn’t possibly have a secret.
Anger and hopelessness war inside me for the next few days.
I can’t stay focused on my conversations with the guys.
I can’t help but read into every conversation I have with other teammates.
When Ben tells me he’s sorry he scared me, that he won’t touch me, that it’s okay if I don’t want to touch him for normal checks, he’ll understand…
all I hear is him saying he’s better than I expect.
And because he’s good, I’m crazy.
My therapist thinks I’m crazy. If anyone else heard what I have to say, they’d call me crazy too.
My dad’s reputation escaped our town and that can only mean that silence is the way to handle this. Until I spot Dimitri sitting off to the side in the workout room. He’s ignoring the free weights, which is something he never does.
I walk over to him. “Are you sore?”
“Hmm? No,” he says.
“Yes, I think you are. Did you strain your bicep?” I touch it, gently massaging. “We should go to my office to make sure.”
He watches me, but doesn’t argue, so I lead him back. Once the door is shut, I rub the back of my neck. “I have therapy today.”
“Yes. Do you want to go alone or cancel it?” he asks. “Want us all there?”
“I thought… with how the last session went that she believed me,” I admit. “And… I want to talk to her, I want to confront her with things, but her comment is I don’t have evidence.”
“Hope, I don’t like where you’re going with this.”
“We do have evidence,” I whisper. “Not just my memories. Not just what you guys saw, not just…” I rub my wrists. “We have recordings.”
“That you don’t ever have to experience again. No, Hope.”
“Yes, Dimitri. I’m the one in those videos. You don’t own them. They’re mine,” I argue sharply.
He watches me, his jaw ticking. “And I’m saying no. I’ll delete them. I’ll just get rid of them and—”
“After I expose him. No one gets to believe he’s good. Do you really want some therapist to be able to tell others that I’m making this up? I don’t.”
Okay, I know she can’t share what I told her with others, I know that.
But I want someone to believe me for once.
And I get that Dimitri doesn’t want me to relive it, but I already do that every single night.
I relive the worst possible experiences.
My therapist says I need to take control.
Jaxon’s method was wrong, but he exposed something worse.
It’s time for me to take the reins. It’s time for me to own my past, to refuse to be quiet.
“I’m done being quiet about this. I won’t shout it from the rooftop or go to social media or newspeople. But I won’t let anyone tell me it wasn’t real. You can support that or you… I don’t know,” I finish.
Dimitri’s fingers brush my hand, then he takes my wrist, guiding me closer. He puts my hand over his chest and laces his fingers through mine. It’s oddly intimate, weirdly intense for him too. He studies my eyes and nods.
“I’m with you, sweetheart. You know that. I’m with you,” he says, his voice low and heavy.
“I-I want the footage and… and I want Jaxon to go with me.”
“Leaving me with Knox?” he snorts and lets me go.
I put my other hand on his chest. He’s solid. He feels good. I don’t want him to pull away. I want him wrapped around me right now. I want him to hold me together so I don’t have to admit exactly how fragile I feel.
This is a test of my will, of whether I can convince this woman that I’m honest. Dimitri doesn’t move. He just watches me. I don’t want to manipulate him. I don’t want to change his mind. I want him to understand.
“I know things aren’t great for you. I know that. I… I need this. Jaxon will go with it. He won’t second guess and he’ll handle it. He won’t charge in until he has to. Please, Dimitri? Figure out whatever’s going on with you too,” I whisper.
He considers it, then finally nods. “This will help you.”
“Yes. I promise.”
“In the long run. I doubt it will feel good today.” He strokes down my sides, then gently rubs my hips. “So, make it feel worse for her.”
For half a second, I want to kiss him. I want to wrap my arms around him, climb on top of his feet, and kiss him. It’ll be rough, intense, wonderful. I know it will. Dimitri’s been watching me with so much pent-up emotion. Letting it out here and now might result in more than I’m ready for.
Even though my whole body is begging for more of his touch, is begging for his mouth on mine, is begging for everything I know we could have, I don’t kiss him. Dimitri keeps studying me, eying my mouth as I lick my bottom lip.
If he feels the hunger sparking in the air between us, he doesn’t comment on it. He just kisses my forehead. “I’m serious. Make her feel terrible. Make her question her choices. Make her want to quit.”
JAXON
I glance at Hope in the car again. She looks pissed, furious, and she keeps gripping Dimitri’s laptop. We’re running late because she insisted on getting it, but I’m not about to tell her no when she looks like this.
I read everything in that damn document.
I know her therapist is fucking trash. After reading it, I did research on her.
And after a very long late-night deep Facebook dive, I found out that she worked alongside Hope’s dad “helping” teenagers.
She wasn’t a school counselor, but she got a hell of a lot of business from Hope’s dad.
Honestly, I wouldn’t be shocked if they’d fucked at some point.
Well… given what I know about Coach, maybe I’d be a little surprised.
“You’re quiet,” Hope hums.
“Waiting for you to explode on me again. I have to save up my energy to control myself when you get all… riled,” I tease.
She scowls. “This anger isn’t for you.”
My eyebrow raises a tad. “No?”
“Just wait in the lobby, okay? I might be loud this session.”
I laugh. “How loud?”
“Just don’t come in. You specifically aren’t allowed in after what you did last time. Can’t be trusted,” she grumbles.
I put my hand on my chest. “I’m very trustworthy. Very protective. I’m hurt you’d say otherwise. Perhaps we should both go in so I can prove it.”
“No, Jaxon,” she insists.
I sigh. “I’ll prove it yet.”
“By doing what I say, please. Just wait in the lobby unless security is called, okay?”
“I heard you, loud and clear.”
She gives me a long look that only lets up when we park. I lock the door so she can’t get out and hear her banging against the passenger door until I open it. I reach in and take her hand, pulling her out and against me.
Hope squirms, but then I bend down and whisper in her ear. “You’re a good girl for me, baby. You can be bad with everyone else. That’s one of the benefits of having me in your corner.”
“I liked you better with piercings,” she grumbles.
“I know,” I tease.
“You know?”
My lips curl slightly. “You love pulling them out and scratching them out of my face when you’re sleeping,” I taunt.
Her face goes bright red and she starts to say something but cuts herself off before touching my lip. Something like regret sparks in her eyes.
I wink. “I deserve it. Especially considering I get hard every time I pull you against me and hold your wrists above your head.”
“Jaxon,” she gasps.
Smirking, I take a step back and rub the small of her back, guiding her forward. She keeps grumbling under her breath, something about sleeping on the couch, as if I’ll let that happen. I open the door for her and pull her against my side.
“You don’t have to hold me so close. I’m not going to run,” she hisses.
“I’m holding you close because I like how you feel,” I tease. “And because it has the fun effect of you not overthinking.”
She pushes out of my arms and checks in. She sits down with the tablet and starts filling this simple questionnaire she has to fill out every time. I keep trying to rub her thigh, forgetting about the laptop before I huff and settle for keeping my arm around her shoulder.
I leave it there when the therapist comes out. She glowers at me, then softens her face when she looks at Hope. “Hope, are you ready?”
“Yes,” she answers.
I squeeze her shoulder once, then kiss her temple. “Pretend you’re talking to me if you need some rage.”