NINETEEN
HAYDEN
BOSTON
DECEMBER
“Hayden will always be a part of the Bullies family, and we wish him nothing but the best moving forward.”
Ruby fake gags at that. “What a load of shit.”
“Ruby,” Linda chastises softly, gently brushing a sleeping Emerald’s hair to detangle it. Linda said my girl has been wanting a shower, but the chest tube needs to come out first—just a few more days.
Linda, Tim, Ruby, and I are watching Doug’s press conference on the television in the hospital room. Tim and Ruby sit by the end of the bed, while Linda and I sit on either side of Emerald.
"Sorry, Mom," Ruby says, trading a grin with Tim.
“In moments like this, organizations show who they are. We believe in taking care of our own,” Doug grins, broad and wide. “Which is why the Boston Bullies will be covering Emerald Sawyer’s hospital bills as she continues her recovery.”
Doug Murphy paints himself as the hero.
And what a hero he is, sitting in front of the flashing cameras, sweaty and practically vibrating in his seat.
“Christ, he’s high as a damn kite,” Tim rumbles. Ruby and I both glance at him, startled. There’s nothing different about the way Doug is acting now than the way he always acts. Oh. Because he’s always high. Great .
Tim snorts. "I build for guys like him. He thinks he’s the Master of the Universe. He’s just a coked-up rich kid with a big head."
“Tim,” Linda scolds softly, sending her husband a look I’ve seen Emerald give me.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Tim says, blowing his wife a kiss. She scrunches her nose at him, not stopping her brushing ministrations. My lips curve even as the longing strikes me.
My gaze drifts to Emerald’s face.
The unease tightens. I can’t shake it, no matter how I try.
Reaching out, I gently trail my finger on the back of her right hand, watching her fingers twitch slightly. Her hand suddenly jerks away from my touch, and my gaze flies to her face. She’s still asleep.
The unease grows.
“I’ll take your questions now,” Doug says as multiple reporters yell over each other.
“Has there been any further development in the assault of Emerald Sawyer?”
All of our eyes lock on the screen at Emerald’s name.
Doug swallows, jaw grinding left and right.
“I’m not privy to any details about the investigation, but the Bullies organization is cooperating with the authorities and giving over any information we can,” Doug smiles easily.
“We have our utmost faith in the police department that they will catch this man and prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law.”
“Was this release Hayden’s idea or the Bullies' idea?”
“Completely mutual decision,” Doug sniffs. “We wish him and Emerald nothing but the best.”
“Did the organization fail to protect a player’s family member on its own property? ”
Doug shakes his head, clearing his throat. “No comment.”
“Has the organization had concerns about how fans and media have treated Mrs. Sawyer all season?”
“No comment.”
“Will Emerald Sawyer have permanent facial injuries?”
“I’m not privy to her recovery—”
“Are the Bullies paying her bills to avoid a lawsuit?”
Doug looks visibly frustrated at that.
“No comment.”
“Do you have any comment about the filmed domestic dispute with Hayden Sawyer outside of the locker room?”
My heart drops at that question.
That goddamn video. My goddamn anger.
It’s the moment that I always go back to. It’s what I fixate on before I go to bed; it’s the main themes in the nightmares that keep me from resting.
I can feel Linda’s eyes watching me, but I can’t take my eyes from the television.
“I’m not privy to the details of their marriage.”
“Did the organization offer a financial settlement to avoid a negligence suit?”
“No comment.”
“Has Mrs. Sawyer suffered psychological trauma in addition to her physical injuries?”
“No comment.”
“Is it true she may never look the same?”
The barrage of questions turns my stomach, and when I look back at Emerald, I freeze.
Her eyes are cracked open, watching the screen.
“Turn it off,” I say immediately, catching everyone’s attention .
When Ruby sees Emerald, she grabs the remote and clicks off the television, the sudden silence deafening.
Emerald doesn’t tear her eyes from the screen, even now, even as it’s off, and the look on her face guts me. When Ruby and I returned earlier, she looked both concerned and relieved to see us. She wrote what happened?
Ruby passionately regaled her with what happened at the apartment and how I handled Britney verbally, and then Ruby handled her physically.
Emerald’s eyes just slid over to me. I had to look my wife in the eye and tell her the woman who had been stalking and harassing us for the past year had been in our apartment, wearing her clothes, invading our space.
And I watched her pleased-to-see-us-again face melt into something I had never seen on my wife before.
I don’t know how to describe it other than hollow defeat.
After staying strong for so long, this violation tipped the scales. I was in the middle of telling her my plans for us—to sell the apartment, to go back to Michigan, and focus completely on her recovery—when Emerald gestured for the whiteboard.
I’m tired.
I gave her a small smile and told her to rest, but Emerald’s face stayed terrifyingly blank. She just sank into the bed, closing her eyes. It felt like she folded in on herself, going to a place that I can’t follow.
And as I look at her now, I try to say her name softly, hoping for even the smallest glance.
“Emerald?”
She doesn’t look at me.
She just stares blankly, still in that place.