Chapter 24 #2
My hands were shaking so badly, I dropped my phone. Kylie picked it up, holding on to it. Georgia was saying something—at least, her lips were moving. But it felt as if I were underwater, and I couldn’t decipher the words.
I knew that comments of strangers on the internet shouldn’t—didn’t—matter. But in that moment, it felt as if a hot knife had sliced through my chest, cutting me wide open.
Was this truly what people thought about me? That I’d profited off my husband’s death, and now I was so easily moving on? As if I’d never loved him. As if losing him hadn’t been so incredibly painful.
I hated feeling as if I’d betrayed Derek. I hated that anyone was questioning my motivations, my love for him. And the idea that the piece I had left of him—his legacy—might be tarnished beyond repair was heartbreaking.
“I can’t—” I clutched my throat, unable to draw a full breath. “I can’t. Breathe.”
“Hey.” Georgia’s voice was soothing. “Hey.” She guided me to one of the seats in the lounge area of the bathroom. “Slow down. In through your nose…” She waited until I did just that. “Out through your mouth. That’s it. There you go.”
I clawed at my shirt. It felt too tight and all wrong. Ever since I’d put on the custom jersey, my skin had felt itchy and hot. I yanked it over my head and tossed it aside.
I’d betrayed Derek. I’d failed him—again.
I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. When his heart had failed, I couldn’t save him. And now, I was letting him down once more.
And this wasn’t just about Derek; this affected Frasier too. In all the years he’d played hockey, he’d never gotten into a fight on the ice. I was negatively affecting his focus, his safety. Hell, I was lucky that the team had stood behind him. Otherwise, his career might be on the line as well.
“Bryn,” Kylie said, crouching down beside me. “It’s going to be okay.”
I gathered my knees to my chest, resting my head against them. “I betrayed Derek. Our marriage. His memory.”
“You didn’t,” Georgia said. “Everyone knows how much you loved each other.”
They had, but now people were questioning if I’d been unfaithful to him. The mere suggestion of it made my head swim and my stomach churn.
“They think I cheated on him,” I cried.
Georgia rubbed my back in a soothing motion. “No one believes that.”
“Clearly, they do.” I sniffled, gesturing to my phone. “And they think I capitalized on his death.”
“No one who matters believes that bullshit,” Kylie said.
Whether they believed it or not, it was out there now. I stood, scrambling over to one of the stalls. And then I heaved over the toilet until there was nothing left. I rested my head on my forearm, wishing the room would stop spinning.
I should’ve been careful what I wished for, because the spinning stopped. And then everything went black.
Georgia: You need to come to the bathroom now. Bryn fainted.
I stood and pushed back my chair so fast that it toppled over. My teammates all turned to me with looks of concern.
“What’s wrong?” Gabe asked.
“Bryn.” I headed for the bathroom, ignoring the curious looks of nearby diners.
I raced down the hallway, nearly colliding with a server and their tray. I apologized but continued on. I pushed open the door, not even bothering to knock because I was so focused on getting to Bryn.
Her eyes were open, which was a relief. But her skin was pale, and she was resting on a chair.
“Frasier?” She blinked a few times.
I went over to her, kneeling on the floor. I took her hands in mine. “Angel, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I checked her over, relieved that she showed no signs of injury. But it was concerning that she’d fainted. Why had she passed out?
Was this what it had felt like for her to see the fight? To worry that I’d been injured.
“I’m fine,” Bryn said, rubbing her forehead.
Georgia gave me a worried look, and Kylie shook her head. Bryn had recently eaten, so I didn’t think it was a blood sugar issue. She’d been drinking wine, but she’d also had just as much water, so I wasn’t too worried about hydration. Still, I didn’t understand why she’d fainted.
“What happened?” I asked Kylie, trying to remain calm and not freak the fuck out.
Kylie chewed on her lip. “Bryn threw up, and then she passed out.”
“Bryn,” I sighed, cupping her cheek. Her skin was pale and clammy.
I squeezed my eyes shut briefly. Now I was really worried.
I opened my phone, debating the best course of action.
I could call one of the team doctors to see if they’d help me.
But if Bryn needed an IV or some type of intervention, a hospital was the best bet.
Maybe I was blowing things way out of proportion, but I wasn’t taking any chances where she was concerned.
I opened my ride-share app and requested a car. It was supposed to arrive in about five minutes, which was a relief.
“Angel. Do you feel up to walking or should I carry you?”
“Carry me where?” Her eyes went wide. “You’re not carrying me through the restaurant.” She shook her head but then stopped, lifting a shaky hand to her forehead.
I frowned. Only then did I realize that she’d removed her—my—jersey. She was wearing a tank top and jeans, the jersey cast aside.
“Come on,” I said. “Up you go.” I gathered her in my arms then headed for the door. “Can one of you get her purse and things?” I asked Bryn’s friends.
Georgia jogged over, jersey and purse in hand. “Where are you taking her?”
“The hospital.”
“Would you please stop fussing over me?” Bryn said. “I’m fine.”
“Bryn.” I glared at her. She couldn’t be serious.
“What about curfew?” she asked, knowing I had to be back at the hotel, back in my room, before eleven.
I gnashed my teeth. “Fuck curfew.” The team could fine me for all I cared, because I was not leaving Bryn’s side. Not now. Not ever.