Chapter 13
Thirteen
HOPE
Isurvived the night. Or at least, I think I did.
Dimitri and Jaxon are already awake and gone when I get up and Knox is sleeping so heavily that even when I force his arm away from around me, he doesn’t wake up.
He just rolls onto my pillow and clutches it against his chest, just like he was holding me.
After pausing a moment, I run my fingers through his hair and wonder what he went through to find me in the cabin. What did all of them do to find me there, to track us? Who knew about the cabin at all outside the family? Obviously not Dimitri’s dad.
Shaking my head, I push that thought down. I’m not letting my father control me or affect me, especially now that he’s dead. I have a job to do and if I’m suddenly not there, we’ll be more suspicious.
I throw myself into getting ready, probably with more enthusiasm than I should. It’s a quiet morning though, like all of us are using distractions to keep from focusing on what could happen.
When we get to work, Knox pauses. Jax hangs back when he notices that Knox and I aren’t following, but after a second, he shrugs, then goes back to planning for the game with Dimitri.
Knox clears his throat and glances around. “No matter what happens…”
“Don’t,” I breathe.
“This isn’t on you, Hope. It never was. You survived it. You deserve the life that he made you miss out on and you’re going to get it. No more battles for you to fight,” he says.
It’s supposed to be a reassurance, but it feels like a goodbye. I take his hand and squeeze slowly. Knox looks down at our fingers laced and lifts my hand, kissing my knuckles. “I know you’re trying. None of us are rushing you. Last night was a big step forward.”
“And we all survived it,” I murmur. “Can we just not talk about… that?”
He nods once and kisses my hand again. “Jaxon doesn’t get to cuddle you every night. He’s had plenty of time with you.”
“I’m not a toy that’s going to be fought over,” I grumble as my face goes red.
“No, you’re a wounded gazelle, remember?” he teases with the best smile he can manage.
Wounded gazelle… I almost scoff at hearing that remark again.
We part ways once we get into the gym. I’ve never really questioned why they don’t touch me when others can see. I just appreciate it. It feels like respect and it makes things easier, until Coach Carpenter spots me and motions me over.
I hesitate for a half second, just long enough that the guys would pick up on it, then head over to the coach. He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “If you need to talk to someone… I mean, I’m your boss, but I’m here.”
“Coach Carpenter?” I ask.
“Your dad, being missing and all. I saw the news and what they said… Just, if you feel like you want to talk or you need someone to share with, I’m here.
I know what it’s like to lose a father, even one that’s not perfect,” he answers with a shrug.
“Especially the ones that aren’t perfect. It’s strange.”
“Um… I mean, he’s not…”
“No, no. He’s not dead. Missing. But they can feel the same, I think. Anyway, I won’t push. He was—is who he is and if you want to drink safely or just get things off your chest…” He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes once. “If not, I won’t overstep.”
My body tenses under his touch and I try to breathe through it. “Thanks,” I murmur.
“And if you need time off, you just let me know. Screw HR and paperwork.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Your dad made good players. I might talk with the guys too.”
And that’s it. No extra praise. No talking about what an amazing coach or man he was, a role model, a mentor. Just some mention about him not being perfect, the assumption he’s dead, and instead of comforting me, it makes me suspicious.
What does he know?
What could he know?
Is it an open secret that my father was a terrible man who abused me? Was I the only one that he…?
I shake my head. I can’t think about that right now, so I go to my office and turn on the lights, determined to stay focused on work.
Maybe others will think it’s weird that I’m determined, or if I’m shaky, they’ll think it’s because of the news and that will work.
Either way, it’s a matter of time before police come knocking, no matter what we do.
Just as I pull out my chart, I notice the flowers. A cheap vase filled with daisies. At least two dozen, if not three. My brow furrows and I move closer. I don’t lock my door because the whole gym is locked when no one’s here, so who…?
Maybe it’s the coach trying to offer me a kindness. I touch one petal as my door opens. I turn around and see Ben. He flashes a warm smile and clears his throat. “I’m here for a checkup.”
“Good. Just let me get my things together,” I say.
He nods and looks around, then chuckles. “Someone wants your attention. I didn’t think daisies were romantic.”
I grab them and move them off to the side and out of the way. “Stupid flowers. Pointless and annoying. So messy.”
“No daises then. Heard loud and clear,” he chuckles.
I force a smile and shrug. “I just don’t want to think about things. These are definitely not romance.”
“Oh, about your missing—”
“I’d rather not talk about it or think about it,” I say quickly.
He nods as if that’s understandable and I turn, bumping the flowers. I notice a card I missed and glance at it before my eyes glue into place.
You won’t get away with this.
Someone knows. I rip the card in half and try to toss it in the trash. I’m not going to think about it. I can’t do anything about it. I’m not going to spiral. I won’t be suspicious.
How can someone know?
It has to be something else. Wrong person.
It can’t be about Dad. There were no witnesses.
“Hope?” Ben asks. “If you need—”
“I’m fine, really,” I lie. It must be obvious because his brow furrows. He reaches out to me, then curls his fingers into his palm. I clear my throat. “Let’s get started.”
I try to focus on the game tomorrow, I ask what he’d bet on if he were allowed to.
He laughs about it depending on Jaxon’s blocking skills.
He asks if I’m going. I talk about the expected crowd and the new field.
We go back and forth, but when I have to take his blood pressure twice because I miss it the first time, I see worry in his eyes bloom.
“You know, we’re going to do great against the Panthers. They don’t play dirty, so you shouldn’t have much work. It was neck and neck last year, came down to a field goal, but I think the guys are going to make all the difference.”
“Yeah,” I answer, my voice high and tight.
“Hope, this isn’t helping. Clearly the big game tomorrow isn’t distracting even if it decides whether we’re knocked out of playoffs,” Ben murmurs.
“I’m sorry. I know it matters. I mean, it’s the ticket into playoffs and I know that it’s important. Everyone’s buzzing about it,” I say.
“And since it’s not helping and touching you isn’t an option, trust me on that… who should I get?” he asks.
I stare at him blankly.
What the hell is he talking about?
“Knox, Jaxon, or Dimitri?” he clarifies. “Which one works best for you?”
I laugh. It’s ridiculous.
“I’m not sure what’s going on between you and those three, but I’m not judging,” Ben teases.
“I’m fine. Tell me about how you guys plan to counter their defense. That’s where they’re strongest. It’s the only reason their offense works at all, because the defense doesn’t give up many yards,” I insist.
He talks about the plays they’ve been setting up based on the games they’ve seen and what they remember.
Coach Carpenter is determined to bring in something new and apparently, Dimitri has a clear idea of how to ruin the defense, namely by mowing them down since Knox just won’t give up the ball once he has it. It doesn’t leave his hand.
The back and forth feels normal and calms me down. Because I have to prove to myself that I don’t constantly need the guys to stay sane. I can manage it myself.
KNOX
“I should be out there running plays with the other guys. The game is tomorrow and—”
“That can wait, Knox. Your old coach is missing and with the game coming up, I need you to be straight with me,” Carpenter says.
I lean back. I should have seen this coming.
Of course he’d expect this to affect the game.
It’s supposed to. Coach was my mentor for years.
He saved me from the shit I was living with.
I felt powerful, competent, like I wasn’t just a waste of space and punching bag when I was with him.
He fixed things that I couldn’t and showed me that I had a future other than alcohol and cigarettes and fighting every day to get what I needed.
That doesn’t mean he wasn’t a shitbag pretending to be human.
I can’t forget what he did to Hope.
He deserved to die.
“I’ll play fine.”
“Look, being a coach is one thing, but I’ve heard plenty about the man. He really… took an interest in his players. He was more than just a coach and if you or the guys—”
“We’ll play,” I say darkly. “It’s what he would want.”
Which hurts as much as it helps.
I can’t separate my emotions. I hate him. I still feel like I owe him. I loved him, saw him as the dad I wanted and the man I wanted to be, and did for years. How can I just… turn that off? Turn off knowing that the man I worshiped was a fucking monster and tried to make me one too?
Killing him should have been easy.
A hell of a lot easier than realizing the truth.
“Knox. Be straight with me. I’m not your counselor. I’m not your friend. Are you going to be able to show your best on the field tomorrow?” Carpenter asks.
I appreciate his lack of bullshit and the fact he doesn’t want to be more than my coach. So I nod. “Yeah. We’ll be good. We all knew Coach Harbaugh, but he’s just missing. He’ll turn up. Until we have answers, nothing changes and we’re going to make sure the team doesn’t suffer.”
Carpenter watches me for a long moment. “And Hope?”
“She’s… dealing,” I answer, not bothering to hide her wavering. She has to be sympathetic. “They were estranged, but it’s still news. And not the good time.”
“Yeah.” He nods once, then rubs his chin. “Anyway, run some plays with the guys. I’ll talk to Jaxon and Dimitri. I don’t want any surprises. We beat the Panthers and we’re guaranteed a shot at playoffs.”
“Loud and clear,” I reply.
It’s only when I’m heading down the hallway and out to the field to run drills that I realize I didn’t call Carpenter Coach once. The title is ruined. The word still twists my gut with a mix of hope and a bitterness I can’t shake.
There will only be one “Coach” and he built me into the monster I was, the player I am, and until Hope showed who he really was, I believed he was a fucking saint. Now he’s rotting in the ground and it’s not enough… because I’m not the reason he’s dead.
I don’t know if I’ll ever kill that part of me that still wants to believe there was something worth saving in Coach. But I sure as hell won’t let one positive thing cross my lips. No matter who starts the conversation.
No matter what it means for me.
Dimitri’s phone call with his dad proved that we’re going to have to deal with this one way or another. I couldn’t finish off Coach, but I can finish the trial with a quick confession… if it comes to that.
“Knox, heads up!” one of the guys yells before throwing the ball.
I catch the perfect spiral and point at him. “Let’s run the play!”
I’ll worry about morals and court cases later. Right now, I’m needed by the team and I’m keeping my word. Carpenter and our team are getting to the playoffs.