Chapter Three
“I haven’t so much as stretched in months, and somehow I’m getting on that pitch tomorrow and going toe-to-toe with my old rival.” I throw my hands out wide, stopping in front of my phone. Thiago blinks, his face filling the screen with rapt interest.
“It’s my damn team! I trained those girls night and day until we were so perfectly in sync, they knew which play we were going to run just by the tilt of my eyebrow. Do you know how much fucking hard work that is?!”
When Thi doesn’t say anything and just keeps staring, I stop pacing back and forth and make a frustrated noise in my throat.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? You never shut up normally.”
The bastard has the audacity to smirk before he manages to hide it, clearly biting down on the inside of his cheeks.
“So, when you say you gave him a right hook, do you mean you lightly tickled his throat or did you sever his voice box?”
I groan, rolling my eyes. I wish it were the latter. It would make everyone’s lives much more peaceful.
“I always punch to hurt, but that’s not the point. Don’t you have anything supportive to say?”
“I mean, you’ve got yourself into a situation you know you’re not ready for. I don’t really know what I can say to change that, but I’ve never actually heard you speak this much. I’m scared that you might stop if I enter the conversation.”
“Well, enter it. I’m stuck in my head right now.” To prove a point, I lift my hands either side of my head and mime that my brain is scrambled. A scrambled, red, raging mess. How Everest gets under my skin so easily is a mystery. Thiago shifts in his seat, getting himself comfortable.
“I get why you’re mad. Dude sounds like an insufferable prick, but you had no intention of jumping straight back into lacrosse this morning. Maybe it’d be best to take a back seat for now. You can work your way up to it when you’re ready.”
Dropping onto the edge of my bed, the mattress dips beneath my weight. It’s much softer than the hard rehab bed I’ve been sleeping on for months.
“I know I didn’t plan on playing again anytime soon, but…ugh,” I sigh. Lacing my fingers together, I push my thumbs beneath my chin. “Everest thinks he's such a big shot, walking around like he owns the place. God, Thi, you should have seen the way he looked at me.”
Thiago tilts his head ever so slightly.
“How did he look at you?” His voice turns cautious, his smirk falling away to be replaced with the seriousness of a thinly pressed line.
“Like it would have made his entire fucking day if I just burst into tears.” I scoff, shaking my memory of those pale green eyes. The confidence in his stance, the arrogance in his smile. “I couldn’t give him the satisfaction.”
“So instead, he’s going to get the satisfaction of publicly humiliating you tomorrow lunchtime.”
“Thanks for that,” I drawl. “You’re supposed to be defending me. He is the interloper here. He should be the one stepping aside from his role as my seat warmer, not the other way around.”
“I will defend you until my dying breath,” Thi’s grin returns, and his hand touches the cotton t-shirt against his chest. There’s a mustard stain beside it.
“I’m just preparing you for the worst-case scenario, so anything better will feel like a win.
” He shrugs unapologetically. I narrow my eyes at him, dragging a pillow into my lap like I might hurl it through the screen.
“That’s some top-tier motivational coaching. Remind me to never let you near my psyche again.” Thi’s eyes gleam against his tanned skin, his aura oozing the kind of charm he’s relied on all these years.
“Too late for that, Amorzinho. I’ve practically taken up residence in there.”
I huff at that, trying not to soften and failing. Even when I’m at the height of being pissed off, Thiago always finds a way straight to my core.
He’s been that way since the day I woke up in an unfamiliar hospital.
Laptop on his thighs, fingers flying over the keys, his feet propped up on my bed.
As soon as his light blue eyes lifted to mine, he smiled, and it was a smile that could wash away a thousand worries.
Talking to him soothes my mind, seeing him eases my soul.
Unless I’m experiencing some delayed Stockholm syndrome for the man who carried me bloodied and limp from a car wreckage. That’s a possibility.
“Anyway,” I say, pushing myself up off the bed, “I haven’t even shown you my new prison cell.
Welcome to Casa de Meg.” Flipping the camera, I slowly pan the room.
“The walls are hospital cream. There’s one bed.
One desk. A single wardrobe. A slim hanging mirror.
One tiny window that overlooks the parking lot of the staff building.
There’s a communal kitchen on the bottom level and a bathroom down the hall, but I do have a basin.
” I show Thi said basin, a sad and singular stature of white porcelain in the corner with a bar of soap.
“Oof,” Thiago says, dragging the word out. “They really said ‘give the rehab kid a safety quarters.’”
“Right?” I walk the camera toward the window, showing the tiny hole in the handle. “They’ve even put a lock on the windows and failed to give me a key. I want some ventilation, not to throw myself three stories south.”
“I can get the guys to look at that tomorrow,” Thi answers. I frown, switching the camera back to myself.
“The guys?”
“Yeah, the guys I’ve hired to bring the computer setup to your new residence. They’re bringing a few extra bits that you might need, and I’ve asked them to do a security sweep. You asked me to handle the removals from the facility, remember?”
I stare at the blinking eyes on the screen, quickly backtracking through my memories.
I think I remember a muffled conversation while I was stuffing my regulation gray sweatsuits into a duffle bag.
Thi asked if I had plans for moving the computer setup, and I’d replied that he’s probably more equipped to deal with those logistics.
I figured he would take the computer back, as if he’s loaned it to me in my time of need.
“I don’t need to be here, right?” I raise a brow.
Thi shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. Thanks,” I offer weakly, twisting the camera just beyond my hair.
The blush working its way into my cheeks isn’t very flattering.
My brain doesn’t work the way it used to.
I have a tendency to overthink now, to think there’s more to a gesture than simply kindness.
He’s asked them to do a security sweep. The man who has only ever known this cynical, angry version of me, yet he’s the only person in this world to consider that I don’t feel safe here.
That I might need protecting. I swallow against the lump in my throat, searching for something else to say.
Apparently, my neighbor also senses that the silence has drifted on for too long.
“What the hell is that?” Thi shouts, frowning at the booming sound vibrating against the wall.
“I believe it’s punk rock,” I call back loudly.
I glare at the offending wall, the one behind the basin.
The mirror rattles against the wall, the vibrations thrumming through the flooring.
Surely the staff quarters will be able to hear it too, sending someone over to deal with it.
Thiago says something I can’t quite catch.
“What?” I refocus on the screen. He holds up his index finger and promptly ends the call.
Thi: I said, your noise-cancelling headphones are also being delivered tomorrow. Hang in there.
In reality, I’m not too irritated by the music.
It’s not everyone’s taste, but it’s better than the peace and quiet to sit and stew in my trauma.
My idea of being stuck in solitary confinement in the corner of campus is shifting, thanks to the self-absorbed asshole next door who is violently reminding me that I’m not alone up here.
Neighborly etiquette might be lacking, but at least the isolation is sinking in slower than I expected, like ink bleeding through water.
I glance around the room again, tapping my finger against my phone.
Meg: Do you think I made a mistake?
Thi: With what?
Meg: All of it. Coming back to school. Marching onto that pitch like I still belong there.
Thiago doesn’t answer right away. The beat of silence gives space for all of my bottled-up doubt to overflow. The three bubbles appear on the screen, then disappear and come straight back. I drop onto the mattress again, crushing my phone in my hand until it finally vibrates once.
Thi: No. I think showing up was brave as hell. I also think you’re not done fighting for yourself yet, and that scares the people who tried to forget you.
A slow, sharp breath moves through my lungs. My heart beats fiercely as if it’s trying to tell me something. I roll onto my back, pointedly ignoring it.
Meg: Ugh. You had to go and be all profound.
Thi: You love it.
Meg: Shut up.
I’m glad he can’t see my stupid grin. I might only have this small room and the bag leaning against the door, but Thiago has a way of making me feel like I have so much more. Like it doesn’t matter if I become who I used to be or someone else completely. He’ll be at the end of the phone regardless.
Lowering my phone onto my chest, I rest my head to the side until another buzz comes through.
Thi: Just promise me one thing?
Meg: What?
I cringe at the quickness of my response. Maybe I should play it cool, pretend I’ve got other things to be doing than hanging on his every word. We’d both know that’s a lie, but it would feel like I’m not giving in too easily.
Thi: Don’t let Everest bait you into self-destructing. You’ve already done the impossible just by coming back, Meg. That’s your power move. Don’t let him twist it into a weakness.
I nod slowly, despite him not being able to see me.
This is what I wanted to hear on the call.
The reassurance I needed from just one person in this world that I’m not completely deluded.
That I’m allowed to take up space. Setting my jaw, I bring a smirk back to my lips and a stubborn set of my brows.
Meg: Fine. But tomorrow, I’m going to destroy him.
Even before his reply comes, I can imagine Thiago beaming, a proud smile that brightens his entire face.
Thi: That’s my girl.